“Hmmm.” She looks up at the ceiling like she has to think about it. “Well, I did have sex on a desk in my office last week.”
“That cannot be the strangest place you ever had sex.”
Her grin would border on bashful if she wasn’t looking at me like she might crawl across the table and straddle me.
“I think it might be,” she says, her laugh a little self-conscious. “I guess I just haven’t been adventurous.”
“Or maybe you haven’t had the right lovers,” I offer with a roguish grin. “You’re welcome.”
“Asshole.” She rolls her eyes, predictably, but still smiles. “And what about you, Mr. Sex Anywhere?”
“The strangest? Let’s see. Once backstage at a U2 concert.”
“Damn, you do have good taste in music.”
“Told you.” I laugh and keep going. “Once in chambers. She was a judge. Aisle four of a grocery store. She was closing.”
“Okayyyy.” Her expression grows more curious and incredulous with each revelation. Since she’s a Catholic, I think it best to omit my sexual encounter in a church confessional.
“A PTA meeting.” I laugh at the horror on her face. “One of my clients was out of town and asked me to talk to the teacher.”
“So I guess you enjoy the thrill of possibly getting caught?”
“No, I just like sex and have it whenever the mood strikes me.” I shrug and shoot her a lopsided grin. “You should see your face right now. You’re like Green Eggs and Ham, the Sex Edition.”
“What?” She wrinkles her nose, obviously confused. “What does that even mean?”
“I would not do it here or there,” I affect a droll accent, quoting Dr. Seuss. “I would not do it anywhere.”
“Oh my God,” she chuckles. “You’re ridiculous.”
“A train! A train!” I keep at it. “Could you, would you on a train? Not on a train. Not in a tree. Not in a car.”
“Shut it!” she manages through her laughter. “I’m not a prude or anything. I just haven’t been given the right opportunities.”
“Ohhh, you haven’t been given the right opportunities,” I say, eager to provoke a response. “And here I thought you were the kind of woman who made her own.”
Her eyes slit at my prodding, lit with a mixture of excitement and determination. She glances around the deserted terrace, and I’m not sure if I should be scared or aroused by her impish grin. I’m gonna go with aroused, since that seems to be my default with Banner.
“You know what,” she says, tossing her napkin on the table. “You’re right. That is the kind of woman I am.”
She slides down her seat and disappears under the table.
“Banner, what—”
The sibilant hiss of my zipper jerking down shuts me right up. Her hands at my belt make me go still. I like where this is going.
“This is really happening?” I ask, afraid to hope.
“Uh huh,” she says, her voice muffled through the wood.
I slump in my seat and spread my legs. I want to make this as easy as possible for her.
She pulls me out, her hands firm and cool, her mouth hot and wet.
Holy fucking shit.
All the alcohol I’ve consumed starts boiling in my blood and rushes to the head below my belt. I’m going to enjoy every damn minute of this, and if our server comes back, I’ll stab him with my steak knife.