Chapter Eighteen

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Chapter Eighteen

There was no way that Jane had heard that right. She couldn't have. She didn't blink, she couldn't. Her brain was stuck as it tried to process those words, and like a slow computer using too much memory, started to freeze up and crash.

Jane swallowed hard over the heavy lump in her throat. She broke eye contact with him. She had to, and she stared down at her salad plate, trying desperately to figure out how this had happened.

"Someone will definitely see that," she said.

Messing around was one thing, but she couldn't just touch herself.

"They're too busy to pay attention to anything other than themselves. You're fine."

Jane glared up at him, her body still on fire, but now she was getting angry. "You're not the one who's going to push your skirt to the side to do things to yourself."

"No, because I'm not wearing a dress, but I never said you had to push the material out of the way. You could keep it covering you if you really wanted."

"I can?"

"Of course. You can still get yourself off by touching yourself over top of your dress."

"I just...no, I can't. Too many people will see. We're not covered here, and we're right up against the railing. If anyone looks up and sees me—"

"Then use your other hand."

He was determined. She had to give him that much.

And part of her loved that he was pushing her boundaries like this.

"You can't say you're not the least bit curious."

Jane reached for the champagne flute this time. She was going to need some alcohol for this. "Have you ever done anything in public?"

"A couple of times, and before Derrick pulled up, weren't you the one saying how much you would love me to take you in the bathroom?"

"That's different," Jane squeezed, clearing her throat. "That would still be private."

There would be two doors to lock. One for the bathroom itself, and the other for the stall if she'd managed to get him inside one.

No one would be able to see either of them, but the way he was talking...it sounded as if he wanted her to risk being seen by all these people here. People who would know her name on top of everything else because her name had been printed on the card, and she was here with one of the event organizers.

Though she had to admit, there was a sense of danger to that which was kind of a turn on.

"Your legs are mostly covered with the table cloth," Silvio said. "Pull it a little higher over your legs. Make sure to use your right hand. There aren't that many people on this floor, and they're all caught up in themselves anyway."

Jane glanced to the side. The larger group that had been sitting near the back had gone. Jane hadn't noticed it when they got up to leave, and the wait staff was quickly clearing away the dishes on that table, along with two other tables that had also left.

He was right. There was less of a chance to be seen from this side of things.

She couldn't believe she was actually going to do this, but she was.

Jane pushed her chair closer to the table, so that her thighs were more hidden by the white fabric of the table cloth.

She placed her hand on her lap, as if she was just resting it there, but she knew better. That wasn't what she was doing, and God, this was so awkward and strange. She didn't have the words for it.

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