“Look at this guy.” Fred draws my attention back to the table. “He can’t take his eyes off her.”

“Just like you, Freddy boo. Your eyes are always on me. Your hands, too.”

Chloe takes her seat beside me and looks around the table. “Sorry about that. What did I miss?”

“We’re talking about how Barrett can’t take his eyes off you.”

“Oh.” A blush spreads over Chloe’s cheeks. She reaches for her drink and I’m concerned that she’s retreating, our pep talk long forgotten. She surprises me by scooting her chair closer to mine. When she leans in to grab a piece of bread from the basket, she places her free hand on my thigh, and now I’m the one nearly jumping out of his skin.

She keeps it there. Her fingers featherlight over the inside of my pant leg, yet the heat of it feels like I’m being branded. Now I’m imagining what it would be like to have Chloe’s hand wrapped around my shaft, that red-polished thumb circling around the tip.

I clear my throat and move Chloe’s hand lower, toward my knee.

Chloe turns to find me staring at her.

“What?” she mouths, eyebrows raised.

“Nothing,” I whisper, trying not to scowl. Then, I attempt to discreetly adjust myself.

Our food is delivered and over the course of the meal I make several attempts to engage Fred in business conversation, but he’s too busy gushing over Frankie or asking Chloe questions about growing up in Colorado.

“Are we boring you?” Chloe squeezes my arm. “He’s heard all these stories a million times.”

Her once tentative fingers now easily slide behind my neck. Her touch is more relaxed now. A response to finishing off her drink. Her touch is soft at first, almost a tickle, before she applies more pressure. The pads of her fingers sink into my neck, gently kneading the tension there. It feels so fucking good, but I’m not going to be able to stand up from this table if she keeps doing that.

“Chloe, if you like Balmain dresses, you’re going to love their new line of crop tops and leggings.” Frankie manages to put down her drink for a second to clap her hands. “Oh my God, we should go shopping together. We obviously have similar tastes. It would be so fun.”

“That would be nice,” Chloe responds as her fingers continue to tease along my collar. I can’t imagine Chloe and Frankie shopping together. Other than their coincidentally matching dresses tonight courtesy of Bea, they have very different styles.

After paying the bill, a 50/50 split between Fred and myself, we exit the restaurant.

“Very nice to meet you, Chloe.” Fred pats Chloe on the forearm before extending his hand to me. “Barrett, it was a nice time.”