I couldn’t help but smirk at the transition from tough love to coy and quiet as she bit her lip, avoiding my gaze.
“You and Cade have been dating for nearly as long I’ve been married. You know I’m not secretly holding any grudges, right? As long as he makes you feel like the awesome, beautiful woman that you are, we’re good.” I went serious, wanting to make sure I wasn’t mistaking her awkwardness about my colored past with Cade for some more recent transgressions. Maybe there was some sort of alpha male oddness going around the city, and our guys had it bad. “He’s treating you alright?”
The nervousness that settled over her relaxed and the smile returned to her lips. “Better than alright. We had our issues, you know all about that.” She gave me a look that summed up all the drama when Cade pursued her and she was sure he was just like the guys she usually gravitated toward. Guys who definitely did not treat her alright. “But he looks at me and I swear we’re the only two people on the planet. And when he tells me he loves me, I believe it with everything in me. I never had that before.” She cleared her throat, emotion getting the better of her. With a sniff, she reached for my wine glass. After she downed the rest, she perked, tears of happiness still glittering in her eyes.
I could see how happy she was and after all the hell her ex’s put her through, seeing her smile and finally get the happily ever after she deserved made tears sprint to my eyes too.
We both fanned our eyes, red faced and laughing. “Now if they would just take a picture of me where I don’t look completely awful, I’d be set,” I quipped. I picked at the rest of my sandwich. “I wish I could tell you it gets easier with the photographers, but you pretty much have to embrace it, or ignore them.”
“Only two options, huh?” She inhaled deep, then faced the street and waved. “I guess sometimes,” she said through clenched teeth, “You just have to not give a fuck.”
She said it so simply, but it resonated with me. There was only one way to find out the answers to my questions. I had to summon up my courage. Put all the fears of ‘what if’ on silent, and just do it.
Tonight, I thought to myself. I’ll ask him about it tonight.
I plastered a smile on my face, then I waved at them too.
FOUR
****
Working late. Don’t wait up, love.
Under normal circumstances, after all I’d done over the past hour, Jacob’s text would have sent me spiraling down and I’d console myself by eating everything in sight...and then I’d turn to the liquor cabinet. Considering the root of the romantic night I had planned was to find out if he was keeping something from me, his short, somehow curt and sweet text revealed nothing.
In fact, the empty chairs standing in front of untouched plates of spaghetti and the delicious red I knew he loved was still corked, begging to be drank and the quiet just intensified my questions.
I glared down at my phone. My first instinct was to type back a wordy response, explaining that I’d made dinner and even dessert—personally made it, not ordered out—and I needed him home. Because I needed answers.
Was he keeping secrets? Why would he keep anything from me?
I put my phone on the table, safely out of batshit insane texting range. This was probably why he kept things from me. Because he didn’t want to worry me. Didn’t want me to jump to ludicrous conclusions. I was leaps and bounds better at keeping my cool, but Megan was right. Reading into things was signature Leila behavior.
So I sat back in my chair, closed my eyes and breathed in and out until the image playing on the back of my eyelids was Jacob, tense above a stack of deadlines. Not Jacob purposefully keeping things from me and throwing a wrench in our romantic evening.
And then I knew just what to do.
Sure, I could be a little crazy, but I had my charms. And my questions would be answered in time. There were more pressing issues, a way for me to show him what I had in store and give him something to think about besides work.
Warm from head to toe, I extinguished the candles, my pursed lips craving Jacob. Needing to be wrapped around him. Craving the feel of him pulsing and hardening until everything but his body and my body was irrelevant.
The savory aroma of meat and spices didn’t dull my hunger. I needed a different kind of sustenance. A satisfied fullness that had nothing to do with my stomach.
I dashed up the stairs to our bedroom, the early evening sky a blue-ish purple that reminded me of the way Jacob’s eyes changed when lust took over. What would his eyes look like when I popped over to his office to surprise him?
There was only one way to find out.
I zeroed in on the closet, pressing a button that rotated my dresses and revealed the storage space where I kept odds and ends. Post cards from Venice. Mementos from our favorite restaurants. My wedding bouquet...and a long, slender white box.
I picked it up and shook it, just like I had all those days ago. The day my life changed forever and I agreed to be Jacob’s submissive.
I ran my fingers along its spine, tracing the edges as I lifted the lid.
The trench coat was draped in the box. The ebony material was soft to the touch. And just like the day it was given to me, I stripped down. I shimmied out of my bodycon dress, and the only items keeping me from the nude were the lingerie I'd ordered from Paris: a strappy, blood red bra and a gorgeous caged back pair of panties that showed more ass than it covered. When I saw it I knew they were perfect. All the straps reminded me of being tied up. Bound for him. And the panties? They were a visual come hither. He wouldn't be able to suppress the urge to grab it. Squeeze it. Spank it.
A warm ripple of longing fluttered through my groin as I pulled on the trench coat. I made sure the knot was secure. I still had a journey ahead of me, the walk past the security guard, and a ride in the elevator until a wardrobe malfunction would be more than acceptable.
My heart pumped with excitement as I breezed into the elevator and practically sprinted toward the lobby. I hailed a cab, the wind rustling my curls. I unpinned my bun and let my hair free. I rolled the windows down and imagined it was his fingers gliding through my hair. Tugging it as he pulled me close and kissed me like he couldn't get enough of my lips. Like he couldn't get enough of me.
I knew what lay beyond this buzz. The worry on the edges of the throbbing anticipation. But I put up a mental wall, not letting my doubt chip away at the desire. There would be time for questions. A time for me to breathe when he told me it was no big deal. For now I was just a woman, going to surprise her man in nothing but underwear and a coat.