"Whitney, can I talk to you for a minute?" Michael asked.
Whitney glanced at her friend Robyn, who also was at the table. It didn't take a genius to see that Michael wanted to speak with her in private. "Yeah," she said, removing her cloth napkin from her lap. "Rob, I'll be back." The other woman simply nodded.
Michael and Whitney left one large room and went into another. This time, instead of the dining room, they now occupied his study. Michael opened the door for Whitney and closed it once he was inside as well. He watched as Whitney looked around.
"You weren't lying when you said you like to read," she said, running her manicured digits along the spines of just a few of the thousands of books in the room.
Michael couldn't help but be amused. "Why would I lie?"
Whitney shrugged, then turned around to eye him. "But I know you didn't bring me here to talk about books. What's up?"
Michael bit his bottom lip. Whitney was already a very attractive woman. Gorgeous even. And her directness often made her sexy, too. He took a couple steps until he had her cornered against one of his shelves.
Whitney's eyebrows lifted. She then broke eye contact, looking to the side and chuckling. "Mikey, what are you doing?" she smirked when her eyes returned to his deep brown ones.
"Why did you bring her?" he asked. He looked upset again like he did earlier when she and Robyn arrived.
"She's my friend."
"I have friends, too, do you see any of them here?"
"Bubbles and them? Yeah."
He stale-faced her.
She laughed and raised her hands in surrender. "I didn't think bringing her would offend you."
Michael held her hands and her gaze. He laid kisses on her knuckles. She shivered slightly when he kissed the skin between her thumb and pointer. His kisses moved to her wrists.
"Michael," she laughed.
"Stop frontin'. You know you remember." He slowly released her hands with a knowing look.
She closed her eyes and exhaled. Michael seized the opportunity to grasp her curly mane and slowly suck her jaw.
"I can't do this now," Whitney managed, pushing him off her. "Maybe I'll come back tonight."
"Why, when you're already here?"
"I'm not gonna fuck you while she's here."
He grinned and tapped his chin. "Okay, and when you come..."
She looked at him expectantly. "Yeah?"
"Wear a dress."
She smirked. "I'll see."
"Wear a dress, Whitney."
"Whatever, boy. So damn bossy." She walked off with a grin of her own.
Michael wore a white T-shirt with slacks, his jet black hair still damp from his shower. He debated wearing his burgundy satin button down. Deciding it was a go, he put it on. As he buttoned the top, his phone rang. It was Whitney, who he met at the door. Thankfully, she was alone, just like she should've been earlier. And she was wearing a dress, just like he requested. Her long legs were on display but the most exciting thing to Michael was what he planned to do to her with said dress on.
He kissed her cheek after they embraced and invited her to his kitchen for wine.
"So, how was the ride here?" he asked, making conversation. They both knew why she was here, but small talk never hurt anyone. Besides, Michael also knew they had all night, so there wasn't a need to rush.
