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Lacey
The restaurant is right off PCH with a perfect view of the beach. We're somewhere between Seal Beach and Huntington, at some little hole in the wall. One far too casual for my tight cocktail dress and heels.
The fire in Mal's eyes pushes any concerns over appropriate dress away. Appropriate is boring. Dull. I want inappropriate. I want him throwing me on the table and fucking my brains out.
Ahem.
He has his arm around my waist. My body is nestled against his. We're in the cozy lobby, in front of the hostess stand, waiting for said hostess to appear and escort us to our table.
"You look fucking amazing, baby." Mal slides his hands to my ass and pulls my body into his. He drags his lips down my neck then back up again.
"Not overdressed?"
"No. Perfect." His fingers skim my hips. It's like he's feeling for something.
He is feeling for something. He's checking if I'm wearing underwear.
His fingers skim the strap of my thong. "Bad girl, disobeying orders." His voice drops to something low and demanding. "I'm going to have to punish you."
Fuck. I swallow hard. Heat spreads down from my cheeks to my chest, then down my stomach. It collects between my legs.
"But that's what you want, isn't it?" He nips at my ear. It's just hard enough to hurt. Just hard enough to send a wave of pleasure right to my core.
"Ahem." Someone behind us clears her throat.
Mal keeps his hand on my ass as he pulls back. He turns to the hostess with a smile. "Waltz party of two."
"We're the Waltz party?" I ask.
"Aren't we?" He pulls me closer.
"Of course." She smiles as she collects menus. When we move closer, she leans in to whisper, "I hate to ask, but aren't you Malcolm Strong?"
He nods. "Yes, and I'll sign whatever you want—as long as it isn't under your dress—if you help me with something."
She beams. "Of course." She sighs with pleasure. "You and your girlfriend are adorable."
He doesn't correct her. He just leans forward. "We need privacy. We're celebrating."
She smiles at me, somehow genuinely happy for me. "Special occasion?"
"She quit her job today," he says. "Going on to bigger and better things."
"Congratulations." She turns back to the host stand, makes a few marks on the table chart, and leads us into the restaurant. She seats us at a booth way in the back. "This should do." Her eyes pass over Mal. They get hungry, but respectfully hungry. She pulls out her cell. "I hate to ask, but my sister will kill me if I tell her I didn't. You mind a pic?"
"As long as you promise not to post it until we leave," he says.
She nods so hard I worry her neck is going to snap off.
I watch Mal pose with his fan. He's a natural at slipping back into that Malcolm Strong persona. It's only a notch or two away from the actual guy. It's hard to explain the difference. The persona is stiffer and looser at once. He's more and less in control. He's not showing the cracks around the edges—the smiles, the jokes, the affection in his blue eyes.
It's subtle, but it gives me a thrill, noticing the way Mal shifts out of character as he takes the seat opposite mine.
"I am proud of you." His blue eyes meet mine. "How do you feel?"
"Free… terrified I made a mistake, but free."
"It's a risk. But I have no doubt you'll do great things." His lips curl into a smile. Not one of those Mal half-smiles, but a wide one that lights up his eyes. "You're so fucking brave, Lacey."
