Chapter Four

Holly

The rest of that shift passes in a complete blur. In fact, when Patrick walks back out of the breakroom and leaves with a smile thrown my way, the rest of the night is a mess of strange faces, playing cards, and whiskeys.

By the time I’m climbing into my bed, I’ve decided that my goal to live for myself most definitely includes this new man that has my insides all in a twist. With more confidence than I feel, I determine that I’ll be reaching out to him in the morning.

With thoughts of his soft smile and handsome face on my mind, I drift off to sleep.

Sticking to my convictions, when the sun streams into my bedroom, I type out a short message to Patrick to let him know that I really enjoyed our talk from the night before. Almost immediately, his reply comes through. He enjoyed it too, and he asks if I’d like to join him tonight for dinner. Obviously, I tell him that I’d love to see him.

To keep myself from dwelling on our impending meeting—is it a date—I decide to clean my apartment like I was planning on doing anyway. This proves to be the right thing to do. When I’m finally satisfied with the way my floors look and all of the laundry is folded and put away, it's time for me to hop in the shower and get ready.

I arrive at the restaurant that’s just outside of town a few minutes before the time we agreed upon and head inside. When I walk in, the host asks if I’m joining Patrick, and I’m whisked away to a secluded booth in the back corner. He’s already settled in with a glass of sparkling water sitting in front of him, his eyes lighting up when he sees me approaching.

“Holly,” he says warmly, rising from the booth and pulling me into a tight hug. When he lets me go, he says, “It’s so nice to see you in something other than your all black uniform.”

I look down at the short red dress I’m wearing and feel my face heat up. “It’s nice to get the chance to dress up a little.”

“Well, I’d love to give you more opportunities to do so.” He gestures toward the bench. “Please, sit. Our appetizer should be here soon.”

“Our appetizer?” I inquire, sliding into the corner, feeling my stomach swoop pleasantly when he climbs into the same side beside me, pressing our thighs together.

“The artichoke dip is incredible,” he informs me simply as he passes a menu to me. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want to drink, but I’m sure that Grace will be here to grab that order soon.”

As if on cue, a pretty girl with long, curly black hair pulled into a tight ponytail arrives with our appetizer and takes my drink order. I tell Patrick to order for me since it’s obvious from his banter with our server that he’s a regular here. Then, when she walks away, he puts his hand on my knee and gestures for me to eat.

“How’s your day off been?” he asks, an easy start to the conversation.

“It was okay,” I reply as I swallow the creamy, delicious dip. “Much better now that I’m here.”

“You’re just saying that to flatter me,” he teases, smiling at Grace when she places my sweet tea in front of me.

“I’m not,” I giggle, giving into my impulse to lean into him. “What about you? Did you do any work today?”

“I actually have the next few weeks to myself,” he replies.

“Really? What kind of job do you have that you’re able to have such long periods of time on?” I can’t conceal my interest at that.

“My investments do most of my work for me,” he responds vaguely in what’s clearly an attempt to dodge the question. “When I travel, it’s to look for new business opportunities.”

“I see,” I humor, wondering if the rumors about Maxwell, my boss, extend to Patrick. What would two guys from New York want to do with a small town like Cherrywood Village?

“I might be able to bring you along on one of my business trips if you’re interested,” he offers, either not sensing my suspicion or choosing not to acknowledge it. “I don’t ever go outside of the states, but there are plenty of beautiful places in the country.”

“That sounds fun,” I concede, unable to hold back in the face of a chance to travel and because mafia members would have business outside of the U.S. too, right? “I’ve always wanted to see more of the states. I just haven’t really had the chance yet.”

“Like I said before,” he says after swallowing the bite in his mouth, squeezing my knee. “You’re still young. You have plenty of time to see the world.”

“I hope so,” I reply, my eyes catching on our server walking over with our meals in her hands. “Already?”

“They know me here,” Patrick replies nonchalantly. “I always get the best service.”

“Wow,” I comment, staring at the beautiful display of grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and mashed potatoes on the platter in front of me. “This looks amazing.”

“Oh, it is.” The hand on my knee moving up my inner thigh. On instinct, I spread my legs, in turn urging him to shift his touch higher. “Just tell me if you want me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” I breathe, slightly worried about where this is going but the curiosity far outweighs the concern.

With my permission given, he continues his way up my leg, his fingertips hot against my skin. Warmth spreads from each point of contact, all of it settling in my center. As his hand gets closer to the edge of my panties, I realize what’s going to happen.

My heart pounds in my chest with excitement. Between my legs, I start to get wet. For a moment, I do consider asking him to stop—we’re in public after all. Patrick seems confident that we’ll be left alone, though. And, his eyes are scanning the restaurant. If someone comes our way, I know he’ll stop.

I have to bite my tongue when his knuckle rubs against the gusset of the fabric. He chuckles under his breath as I inhale sharply. The way he’s clearly enjoying making me squirm makes everything about this even sexier.

After a few seconds of teasing, he slowly pulls my panties to the side and slides the tip of his finger through my folds. This time, I whimper. My legs shake. It’s ecstasy.

“You have to keep your voice down,” he murmurs, his mouth right next to my ear, his fingers still working my over gently. “You don’t want to get caught, do you?”

“No,” I whisper, gripping my thighs tightly and repressing another sound.

“Good girl.”

Then, he dips a finger into my opening, pumping in and out. His pace slowly gets faster. With each thrust of his hand, it gets harder to keep myself quiet. I don’t want to get caught though, so I focus on breathing.

As if trying to challenge me even more, he removes the digit and circles my clit. It’s overwhelming, and my legs spasm. I bite down a moan, and it comes out as a low growl.

“God, I wish we were somewhere that I could hear you,” he mutters as he continues his onslaught. “I’m sure you make the prettiest noises, Holly.”

“Mm,” I hum, wanting to respond, but knowing if I actually open my mouth I’ll be too loud.

“This feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, clearly not expecting me to respond. “There’s even more where this came from.”

I gasp, his words coupled with the insistent circling of his fingers collect in my lower abdomen. A pleasant pressure builds steadily. It’s so intense, feeling like it’s both too much and not enough. My hips twitch forward without my permission, searching for more friction. I’m chasing something , but I don’t know what it entails.

“You’re getting close aren’t you?” Patrick murmurs, amusement apparent in his tones. “I can tell. It sounds like it’s getting harder for you to keep quiet.”

I exhale sharply, something deep in coiling up tightly. Then, with a few more strokes of his finger, it springs off. I fall over the edge, my vision lighting out as I twitch in my seat. I bite down on my tongue as Patrick works me through it.

The intensity of my orgasm subsides after a few seconds, and when my body stops shaking, Patrick withdraws his hand. He pulls my panties back over my sensitive sex. Then, after smoothing down my skirt, he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking my juices off of each of them.

“Just as sweet as I imagined,” he says, giving me a wink that makes me giggle.

“Oh my god,” I murmur, shock in my voice. “I can’t believe we did that.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?” I blush deep and nod. “Good because I did, too.”

The rest of our time together is charged, but we manage to keep our conversation on the right side of casual. We both tell stories about wild things we’ve seen in the casino, and Patrick tells a few stories about the kind of trouble he and Maxwell would get into.

When we part with a kiss in the parking lot, I can’t help but think there’s something that Patrick’s hiding from me. Even the stories he told about his time in New York had details omitted. He might have thought that I didn’t pick up on it, but I’m more perceptive than I let on. There’s something that he doesn’t want me to know, and despite how strongly I think he’s it for me, I wonder if whatever he’s keeping from me is a dealbreaker.