Squeezing my thighs together, I start to worrythere might be a wet spot on the back of this silk dress when I stand up.
He looks me in the eye again, but his gaze quickly diverts as a shadow falls over our table. At first I think it’s the waiter, but quickly realize the cologne is different. This scent is strong and cloying, so musky it’s almost offensive. I glance up at a man I don’t recognize, but he’s not looking at me. He lightly drums his fingers on our table before pointing at Nate.
“Nathaniel Windemere. Nice to see you. I have to say, you have quite the bold choice of dates this evening.”
Completely unruffled, Nate reaches out and shakes the man’s hand. “Been a long time, Killian. My girlfriend is the one who made a bold choice. She’s much too good for me.”
The man gives me a cursory glance, distaste clear in his eyes. I’m not sure if he believed a word of that, but it made my heart squeeze all the same. I can’t remember the last time anyone said something to defend me. Aside from Cleo, that is. It feels good to have someone in my corner.
“Thank you,” I say quietly once the intruder has gone.
Nate’s attention is on the oysters. “Don’t ever thank me. That right there is the entire point of this whole game. No smile. Look beautiful. Enjoy the food. And think a little bit about what I have in store for you later tonight. You already showed me how good you can suck. We should keep it going.”
His bluntness almost pulls me out of the fantasy that this is an actual date. But I don’t let it. I want to enjoy this feeling a little longer.
By the time our entrées arrive, I’m still riding the high of having my very own knight in shining armor right herenext to me. I don’t care that it’s not real. My soul needs reassurance.
Gesturing to each plate, Nate explains what the varied dishes are. Everything sounds amazing, and nothing like what I was expecting. I watch his masculine hands as he picks up a fork and gives me small bites from each plate. Duck l’orange, dover sole with golden butter, venison with quince and smoked cream. His eyes track my lips with each bite, and it might be my imagination, but it seems like his eyes get darker and darker each time.
“Enjoying yourself?”
I take a small sip of wine before answering. There is only one answer, after all. “Yes.”
He reaches his hand across the table and runs his fingers along my forearm. I go still, watching the movement of his hand against my skin. The little hairs on my arms stand up as goosebumps bloom everywhere. This seems to darken his eyes even more.
“You’re so sensitive. I bet I can make you come in five minutes.”
Oh my God. The fork I was holding clatters against my plate. Pulling in a shaky breath, I look him square in the eye. My brain fumbles over itself imagining how he would pull that off. With his mouth, his fingers? Both? Or something else?
“I’ll take that bet,” I hear myself say boldly.
His eyes flash. “Are you doubting me?”
Blushing hard, I bite my lower lip. “Maybe. Prove me wrong.”
13
PIPER-LILY
“Spread your legs,”he commands as I slip into the passenger seat, and then he closes the car door and goes around to the driver’s side.
My heart races at the implication of what he just told me to do. The dress fits close to my body, leaving little room to move my legs unless I tug the ankle-length hem up to my thighs.
The silk is smooth and warm from my body as I gently work it up. He gets in his seat without looking at me, then pulls into traffic and accelerates like he has somewhere important to be.
Looking at him out of the corner of my eye, I wonder at the change in his demeanor. Gone is the slightly playful, teasing undertone we shared at dinner. Why is he acting so tense and uptight now? Did I say something wrong? He seems almost angry.
Though he expertly maneuvers through the traffic, we get stuck behind a gridlock of cars jammed at an intersection, causing a cacophony of angry horns to blare. It’s darkoutside but the buildings are lit up, and digital displays with brilliant LED lights shine inside the car. People walk past on the sidewalks dressed for the clubs on the next block.
I glance at my naked thighs and the bunch of blue silk gathered around my hips. Someone walking close enough to the car could easily see me like this. My middle tenses as I anticipate the flash of a paparazzo’s camera through the window.
The stoplight half a block ahead turns green, but we still can’t move.
“We’re going to be here for a few minutes,” Nate says.
He puts his hand on my thigh, his fingers pressing lightly into my skin as he slides his palm down toward my inner thigh and then back out again. The caress is warm and heats my skin. Watching his hand, I gasp as it disappears beneath the bunch of fabric. His fingers whisk between my legs, brushing the damp spot on my underwear, and my entire body goes still.
Oh.
