And so he had brought the drinks to her table himself, setting them down on the table before her, then taking a seat. He had yearned to skip the drinks, step in behind her, and run his mouth along the side of her neck. He’d wanted to taste her again, to run his hands over her body the ways she loved, to tug her back to him and kiss her in a storm of released hungers. He knew that dress. He knew the snap at the nape of her neck that would release the straps running up from the arms, over bare shoulders, and fastening above a bared back. He knew the feel of her breasts and stomach on his hands when he had once released those straps and let the black fabric fall…
He needed to sit a moment before he could catch his breath enough to voice a greeting. “It’s good to see you.”
Her lips curled upward demurely. It was a modesty betrayed by the look that flared in her eyes: *Take me. NOW.* Unvoiced, but spoken so clearly without words. Unspoken, except in the heat of past evenings when the words had come as clearly from her lips as anything he had ever heard her say. Anything she had ever demanded. As clearly as she spoke now: “It’s good to see you, too.”