Michael’s eyes met mine. “Women.”

“Interesting...” Jonathan reached over and put his hand on my thigh. “What made you choose that?”

“Well, no disrespect to the Children’s Hospital—I worked there for over a decade, but my true talent,” he said as his eyes met mine again, “has always been working with the female anatomy.”

I picked up my wine glass and practically chugged the whole thing. I tried to clamp my legs shut, but Jonathan had already slipped his hand between my thighs.

He wouldn’t dare do this here...

“Hmmm...” Jonathan nodded. “This may seem like an odd question, but do any of your patients ever ask you out?”

He laughed. “Yes, but I always turn them down. It’d be inappropriate.”

“Completely inappropriate.” I felt Jonathan’s thumb circling around my clit.

“Except in your case, Claire.” Michael beamed at me. “If it had been you and not your mom, I’m sure I would’ve broken the rules for you...”

“You two are dating?” Jonathan smiled and looked back and forth between the two of us, teasing my opening with his middle finger.

Before Michael could answer, a group of waitresses brought out a series of plates. Each entrée was floating atop its own silver bed of steaming hot water.

“I had the chef make a miniature version of every signature item,” our waitress said as she refilled our glasses. “He wishes to speak with you personally after your meal, Mr. Statham. I’ll return to check on all of you rather shortly.”

I looked over a small plate of brightly skewered vegetables and sautéed chicken. I was about to pick up my fork and taste a piece, but Jonathan drove two fingers deep inside of me, pinning me completely still.

“This looks amazing.” Michael picked up his spoon. “So Jonathan, I’m sure it must be great being the CEO of your own company. What’s the most difficult part?”

I couldn’t concentrate on the conversation–not with Jonathan sliding his thick fingers in and out of me—slowly, teasingly—like he was going to prolong this session forever.

“The hardest part?” He used his left hand to pick up his fork, keeping his right hand extremely busy. “That would probably be a product’s development stage.”

“Really? I would think that would be the easiest part.”

“No, not at all.” He shook his head. “Let’s say you have this beautiful and amazing product—something you know everyone else will want. You have to figure out a way to keep it to yourself throughout all stages of development before it becomes official. You know, mark your territory so to speak.” His fingers were rubbing against my G-spot, making my breaths shorter and shorter.

“So quite naturally,” he continued, “you have to be willing to take certain public risks.”

“Isn’t your company about to go public in a few months?” Michael asked. “Is that a risk?”

“Yes, it’s a huge risk.” Jonathan’s fingers plunged as deep as they could go. “But, I’m all in and I can’t turn back...Once I’m in deep, the only option is to go deeper and deeper. Isn’t that right, Claire?”

Son of a bitch...

I nodded.

“Are you okay, Claire?” Michael looked concerned. “Did your food go down the wrong way again?”

Jonathan turned to look at me. “Yes, Claire. You’re confusing the two of us...Do you not like the water plates?”

“I’m okay...” I murmured and attempted to pick up a fork. “I’m just...” I felt his fingers punishing me again. “Feeling a tad bit weak...”

Michael shrugged and took another bite of his food.

The waitress stopped by and cleared away the empty glasses, providing us with freshly filled ones.

Before she walked away, Jonathan grabbed her by the arm. “I’m sorry, but could you bring some more hot water for our friend here?” He looked at me. “I think she likes her tier plate extra wet. Maybe that will help you better, Claire.”

“Could I get some too?” Michael spooned butter onto a slice of bread. “Claire, you’ve been quiet all afternoon. How’s your day going so far?”

“It’s going...” I was on the verge of an orgasm—I could feel my clit throbbing, my insides clenching together tightly. Since Jonathan knew exactly what spot to hit and how to hit it, I knew I was only seconds away from a sweet release. “It’s...”

Jonathan turned to face me and smirked. “It’s going well? Is that what you’re trying to say? Do you need help spitting it out, or are you almost there?”

Fuck you, Jonathan...

I nodded and tucked my lips in, trying to remain as still as possible as wave after wave of pulsing pleasure rippled through my body.

“Claire? You sure you don’t want to get that checked out?” Michael sipped his wine. “I know a specialist you can use.”

“No...” I caught my breath. “I’m okay and my day is going very well...”

He suddenly stood up from the table. “This is an emergency page from one of my nurses. I’m sorry, but I have to take this.” He walked out of the room.

“You should try the steak strips, Claire.” Jonathan smiled and removed his fingers. “They’re very succulent.”

He IS insane! “I can’t believe you! You are so—I don’t even know what you are! Why would you do that in front of him?”

“Would you prefer if I did it behind him? When he comes back, we can move the table around and try it. Maybe then I won’t have to deal with him eye-fucking you.”

“He was not! He was being extremely polite! Was that the only reason you invited him? So you could further inflate your ego?”

“No, I did that because you lied to me about the directors’ meeting a few weeks ago.” He laughed. “You didn’t think I forgot about that did you?”

I rolled my eyes. “So you’re really not mad about today?”

“Mad? About today? About the guy I told you to get rid of showing up to your office with flowers because he thinks he still has a chance? Or about this same guy kissing you on your lips right in front of me? Which part?”

“I told you it wasn’t—”

“Tell him you’re not interested or I will.” He planted a kiss on my neck and stood up. “I’ll go talk to the chef and see you back at corporate later...Oh and Claire?”

“Yes?”

“I am the jealous type.”

Chapter 12

Claire

“I am the jealous type...” “I am the jealous type...”

I replayed Jonathan’s last words in my head over and over, knowing that if I was sane I would walk away. No, run away. Far away.

I would stop answering his calls and text messages, ignore him in all of our meetings, and act as if we’d never crossed paths. But I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried to resist him, every move he made and every word he said only drew me in deeper.

I’d finally admitted to myself that I liked him. A lot. But I didn’t want to dig myself into a relationship that I knew would never work out for the long term. So, starting this week, I did the only thing I could do to prevent him from getting too close too soon: put a little distance between us.

I went home early on Monday and Tuesday, skipped the directors’ meeting on Wednesday, and on Thursday—after he asked me to meet him in an emergency stairwell, I told him I had a headache.

There was no way I was getting out of our “first real date” tonight though—not that I’d been thinking about canceling it anyway. I’d been looking forward to it all week.

“See you in a few minutes.” Jonathan texted me.

I adjusted my earrings and ran a brush through my hair, checking myself in the mirror. I was wearing my favorite silver strappy heels and a short emerald-green dress that perfectly complemented my eyes. Its soft satin fabric tightly hugged my hips, its V-neckline made my breasts look a full cup size bigger, and its slimming sleeves fell right below my elbow.