An entirely catlike smile spreads across his face.
"I could skip dinner and just take you upstairs." That probably qualifies as really hitting on her this time, and he likes it. It's one of those moments: his hands, so fluent on the keys of a saxophone, yearn to play her in much the same way.
Since when did he forget all about patience, about the slow art of expert seduction, about taking one's time with things? A good buildup is almost as good as what comes after and so, reminding himself of that, he untangles his hand from her hair and slowly sits back down again.
"But then there wouldn't be dinner, and that was our agreement." Now's the time to take the rest of that champagne out of his coat pocket before it spills all over it and he does, setting it down on the table but to the side: nothing but table gets to come between them so he can reach over for her hand again any time he wants.
Or any time she wants. This is a two-way street and he's been lucky enough to sense that she wants him as much as he wants her... despite everything that's happened.
He wishes he hadn't had to handcuff her and leave her on his bed back on Callisto, but he did. In a strange way that set the tone for this whole thing: it's not about bondage, though. It's about waiting, about patience, about understanding, and while he's wildly crazy about her right now, he knows how to draw a thing out and make it last.
no subject
"I could skip dinner and just take you upstairs." That probably qualifies as really hitting on her this time, and he likes it. It's one of those moments: his hands, so fluent on the keys of a saxophone, yearn to play her in much the same way.
Since when did he forget all about patience, about the slow art of expert seduction, about taking one's time with things? A good buildup is almost as good as what comes after and so, reminding himself of that, he untangles his hand from her hair and slowly sits back down again.
"But then there wouldn't be dinner, and that was our agreement." Now's the time to take the rest of that champagne out of his coat pocket before it spills all over it and he does, setting it down on the table but to the side: nothing but table gets to come between them so he can reach over for her hand again any time he wants.
Or any time she wants. This is a two-way street and he's been lucky enough to sense that she wants him as much as he wants her... despite everything that's happened.
He wishes he hadn't had to handcuff her and leave her on his bed back on Callisto, but he did. In a strange way that set the tone for this whole thing: it's not about bondage, though. It's about waiting, about patience, about understanding, and while he's wildly crazy about her right now, he knows how to draw a thing out and make it last.
"If you still want dinner, that is."
He might not need it, but he'll sure enjoy it.