Chapter 15: The First Official Date
The restaurant was the kind of place Suki would have normally scrolled past on her feed—too polished, too intentionally romantic. But as Aidan pulled out her chair, his hand brushing the small of her back, she felt a thrill that had nothing to do with content. This was protocol. Date protocol. Her stomach fluttered with a nervous, girlish energy she hadn’t felt since high school.
“You look insane,” he murmured, taking the seat across from her. His hazel eyes caught the lantern light. He was wearing a dark shirt she’d never seen before, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“Good insane or bad insane?” she asked, smoothing the sleek black fabric of her dress. It was simple, but it clung.
“Catastrophic insane.” He grinned, that easy, crinkled-eyes grin. “I’ve been thinking about that dress all day. It’s a problem.”
A waiter appeared, young and polished. “Good evening. Can I start you with some drinks?”
Aidan didn’t look at the menu. He looked at the waiter, then at Suki, his gaze steady and deliberate. “We’ll need a minute with the wine list. But first,” he said, and his hand reached across the table, covering hers. His palm was warm, his grip sure. “This is my girlfriend, Suki.”
The word landed in the space between them, solid and real. Girlfriend. It wasn’t ‘our friend’ or ‘my wife’s best friend’. It was a claim, a statement of fact to a stranger in a public place, exactly as he’d promised in the lamplight of their bed.
Suki’s breath caught. She saw the waiter’s polite, unfazed smile, a professional nod. “A pleasure, Suki.” The world didn’t end. The amber-lit room didn’t dissolve. Aidan just held her hand, his thumb stroking her knuckle once, waiting for her to surface.
“Hi,” she managed, finding her voice. It sounded small.
The waiter took their drink order and vanished. Suki exhaled, a shaky laugh escaping her. “You just… did that.”
“I said I would.”
“I know. It’s just different hearing it.” She squeezed his fingers. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. It’s just the truth.” He let go of her hand only to pour her a glass of water from the carafe. “How’s the headspace? After telling Leo and Miles?”
Two nights ago, over deliberately casual beers, they’d done it. Catriona had led, blunt and cheerful. ‘So, we’re dating Suki now. All of us. It’s a thing.’ Leo had choked on his lager. Miles had just blinked, then shrugged. ‘Cool. As long as no one expects me to share my fries.’ The relief had been a physical, liquid warmth in Suki’s veins.
“Still good,” she said. “No pitchforks. Just questions about scheduling. Leo asked if we had a shared Google Calendar.”
Aidan snorted. “Of course he did.”
Their wine arrived. They ordered food, the conversation easing into familiar, comfortable grooves—a stupid thing Cat had tried to cook, a drama with one of Suki’s subscribers, the relentless rain earlier. But underneath the casual flow, a new current ran. His leg brushed hers under the table and didn’t move away. He fed her a forkful of his burrata, his eyes on her mouth. The possessive tension of the stream was gone, replaced by something slower, more deliberate. A claiming that was just for them, not for any lens.
When the tiramisu arrived, a single plate with two spoons, he shook his head. “You first.”
She took a bite, the cocoa powder dusting her lips. He watched her, his expression softening. “You have a little…” he gestured.
She went to wipe it, but he leaned forward. “Let me.”
He didn’t use his napkin. He closed the space across the small table, his hand coming up to cradle her jaw, his thumb gently brushing the corner of her mouth. The touch was intimate, domestic. Then he kissed her. It wasn’t a peck. It was slow and deep, tasting of espresso and mascarpone and promise. Her fingers curled into the sleeve of his shirt. The restaurant noise faded to a distant hum.
He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers. “The promise of the night ahead,” he whispered, repeating a phrase she’d murmured earlier, “is killing me.”
The Uber ride was a blur of his mouth on her neck, his hand high on her thigh, his low laughter vibrating against her skin as she shivered. They stumbled into the apartment building’s lobby, breathless, ignoring the knowing smirk of the night doorman.
Catriona was out—a deliberate plan, a ‘girl’s night’ with a colleague. The apartment was quiet, dark except for the city’s glow through the windows. He didn’t turn on the lights. He just backed her against the closed front door, kissing her again, deeper now, all hungry patience gone.
“Aidan,” she breathed, her hands fumbling for the buttons of his shirt.
“Wait.” He captured her wrists, pinning them gently to the door above her head. “My turn.”
He undressed her like he was unwrapping something sacred. The zip of her dress was a slow sigh in the dark. His hands, usually so sure and steady, trembled slightly as he pushed the fabric from her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. He knelt to remove her heels, his hands smoothing up her calves, her thighs. His breath was warm against her stomach. He looked up at her, his face shadowed, his eyes blazing.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, the words rough. “It hits me all over again every time.”
He stood and lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the bedroom. He laid her on the duvet, on the same embroidered initials, and followed her down, covering her body with his. He took his time, kissing every new expanse of skin he revealed—the curve of her shoulder, the dip of her navel, the inside of her knee. It was reverence and hunger twisted together.
When he finally entered her, it was with a slow, deliberate push that made her gasp, her tightness yielding to the thick, insistent pressure of him. He stilled, fully sheathed, his forehead damp against hers. “Okay?”
She could only nod, her nails digging into his back. He began to move, a deep, rocking rhythm that had nothing to do with camera angles or performance. This was raw, unedited feeling. His eyes never left hers.
“You feel that?” he whispered, his voice gritted with strain. “That’s all for you. Just you.”
Her climax built slowly, then shattered her, a wave that tore a choked sob from her throat. He held her through it, his pace unwavering, his own control fraying. “I’m proud of you,” he breathed against her ear, the words fragmented by his thrusts. “Proud to be with you. Proud to call you mine.”
It was the permission, the raw affirmation, that pushed him over. With a groan that was half her name, half a prayer, he buried himself deep and came, his body shuddering. She felt the hot, pulsing release fill her, a possessive intimacy that was more profound than any filmed creampie. This was private. This was theirs.
He collapsed beside her, gathering her instantly into his arms, her back to his chest. He didn’t pull out. He kept her locked close, one hand splayed low on her stomach as his breathing gradually slowed. The room was quiet, save for their shared heartbeats.
After a long while, he nuzzled her hair. “Cat texted. She’s staying at Maya’s tonight.”
Suki understood. A gift of space. Their first night, just the two of them. She laced her fingers with his over her stomach, feeling the slick evidence of their connection cooling on her inner thighs. She had never felt so thoroughly, so uncomplicatedly, claimed.
“Aidan?”
“Yeah, Sook?”
“Do it again.”
His laugh was a low rumble against her spine. His hand slid lower. “Yeah,” he whispered, already hardening inside her again. “I can do that.”