DIGGING HER FOLK INTO THE moist Amaretto cheesecake, Amara took a bite. The pleasure brought a moan to her lips. It was her second serving for the night. Despite her fear that all the food she ate would go to her hips, she couldn't help herself.
"You like it?" Andrew leaned back on the sofa, finishing his share. "I had it made especially for you."
"Thank you. It's amazing." Amara put her plate down on the table. "I'll regret it all tomorrow."
"Good food should never be regretted."
The clock read 12:38. "It's getting late. I should head home."
"Why don't you stay? I'll drop you off first thing tomorrow morning on my way to work."
"I can't." He watched her with a heavy-lidded gaze. His tongue slid leisurely across the seam of his lips as if he still tasted her. Amara knew that look so well; knew what came after it. It was a look that screamed sex. "I don't want us to..."
"I'm not the big bad wolf, Amara. I enjoy your company." She gave him a stern glare that made him smile. "I promise you. You can sleep in the guest room if you think all I want is to sleep with you."
Her mind wandered off to the memory of his succulent kisses that swallowed her lips. Of his body against hers. Temptation called her and she could do nothing but dance with the idea of the thrill. But she had a habit of falling for broken men. They had handsome cloaks of invisibility covering their faults. It was too early.
"I have to get to work very early tomorrow. I can't stay."
He smiled and of course, sincerity glistened in his eyes. "It's okay. Thank you for trusting me and giving me your time tonight."
"It was my pleasure."
"Can I change into something more comfortable before we leave? Do you mind?"
"Of course not."
The night crackled. Everything had turned to static electricity in the heat. As she waited for Andrew, Amara observed the calm ocean. The palpitating pulse of the sea was steady and peaceful. It was soothing and she was glad to get away from the hurly-burly and stresses of life.
"Done." Andrew joined her. "Shall we?"
All those times she had met him, she'd never really seen him. Of course, she had seen him and appreciated him in his custom made suits and free flowing shirts, but she had never really seen him until that moment in a t-shirt. His tea-coloured skin was sleek and his chest and limbs pleasingly muscular...the only hair on his body were the tight curls on his head. This close, she made out the shape of the bottom of a tattoo on his bicep, which looked like a half-sun.
Christ! She cursed under her breathe as heat travelled down her body to her core.
"Amara..."
"Huh?"
"Are you ready to go?" She nodded. He took her hand. "Come, there's something I wanted to show you. A surprise."
With her back to his chest, Andrew covered her eyes. She staggered as he led her, afraid if he lost sight even for a second, she would tumble. An elevator dinged. They walked in. It descended before coming to a stop. Slowly, he helped her out and walked a couple of paces before removing his hand from her face.
"Blu mentioned you had a thing for sports cars."
A black Lamborghini was parked strategically between a grey Mercedes and a white Jeep.
Carefully, Amara ran her fingers across the body of the car. "Your boss owns a Lamborghini Aventador?"
"I'm surprised that's your favourite car."
"This isn't a car, this is...this... this is heaven on four wheels."
"Would you like to drive it?"
Amara looked at him, he smiled. It wasn't practised charm. It came from the heart. Her smile back felt oddly false in comparison. "Don't joke. Are you serious?"
"Very." He searched through his pockets, pulled out the key fob and threw it to her. "When Blu mentioned that you loved sports cars, I talked to my boss and he let me borrow it for a while. Do you want to drive it?"
Without hesitation, she slid into the black and fuchsia seats with care. Andrew kneeled on the solid floor and pulled the seat belt over her chest before pressing it into the lock.
"Comfortable?"
She nodded yet again unable to find words. Pulling her to him, he kissed her. This time, there was more than insatiable lust and need in his kiss. He got up and slammed her door shut. Ruthless butterflies danced in Amara's stomach.
Andrew climbed into the car beside her and placed his arm protectively on the back of the seat behind her neck. She ignited the car to life. It abruptly halted its progress, slinging her against the steering wheel with bone-jarring force.
"Careful," he said.
"Always."
The sleek beast cruised down the freeway, moving south towards her home. Amara stared straight ahead, only half-aware of a world outside due to the claustrophobic comfort of the car.
"So how rich are you exactly?" The words rushed out of her mouth. "I mean if your boss is wealthy and you're his portfolio manager then it means you're paid well."
The corner of his mouth tagged up. "Why does your voice sound panicky?"
"It's not..."
"I make enough. I'm not wealthy, but I'm comfortable."
Amara squinted at him, blowing a strand of her hair out of her face, exasperated. "That's very vague."
"Why is this your favourite car? For someone so anti-capitalism, I wouldn't have guessed expensive sports cars were your thing."
Amara bit down on her lips preventing herself from asking too many questions. "My father was a mechanic. He bonded with me by teaching me what he loved. Some of his pipe dreams might have seeped into me."
The car made one more circle in the road and then lunged at the cliff. The highway ahead of them was clear, except for one big truck coming their way... and a car approaching the highway to their right.
"It suits you," Andrew said. "Driving it."
"Thank you."
In fifteen minutes, they came up Pike street. Amara braked and pulled the car to the side of the road parking it outside her apartment building.
"Thank you for tonight, I had a good time."
"Anytime."
His eyes still intoxicated her, like a shot of aged whiskey. Staring into them, she forgot all her reservations. If she could sculpt a memory, then she would sculpt his eyes looking at her like...
"You're beautiful, Amara," he muttered.
Amara didn't believe that she was beautiful, only pretty. The same sort of pretty as any other woman, where good make-up and a likeable personality would create the illusion of beauty. To know she was beautiful in his eyes made her beautiful.
"You're beautiful too."
He snapped her seatbelt open and pulled her to his lap. She gasped. "What are you doing?"
In a swift, slow and torturous manner, Andrew kissed, nibbled and sucked her lips. His warm tongue danced along with hers. She traced his whip-like upper body, the roped muscles of his shoulders and chest, the tucked waist and flat abs.
"Curious, how many tattoos do you have?"
"Curiosity killed the cat sweetheart."
A soft moan escaped her mouth when he bit her lower lip. "I don't mind my cat being killed."
Andrew's low chuckle shook his body. "With pleasure. I have to see you again."
"Me too." She found herself saying too quickly.
He pulled back and sought her eyes. "That's a yes?"
Amara's heart pitter-pattered in a frenzy of fear. Not long ago, she was the fool who danced so wildly to tunes that were played by men who showed her affection. Still, she was filled with regrets, of the things she had traded for a single nights pleasure with men who had wives and boys who didn't care. All they left was a burden on her soul, desires in her heart, but damaged beyond that which one could repair. A woman's errors were different from a girl's. They are a characteristic and not a mistake.
"Maybe."
"Maybe is not good enough for me," he whispered before kissing her deeply again. "I have to see you again."
"I'll call you."
Andrew opened his door and carried her out. Gently, he put her feet back on the ground.
"I'll wait for your call."
"Goodnight, Andrew."
"Goodnight, Amara."