Page 49 of My All American Girl

The conversation flowed smoothly after that, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every now and then, I would catch Dean looking at me. I tried to ignore it.

I brooded and stared at the menu while my father and Dean chatted about me. Great. Just perfect. My rare and hard-to-get father-daughter time was now being shared with the man who starred in my nightly fantasies.

We placed our orders, but I didn’t know how I was going to eat. I felt nauseated. My father turned his attention to me. “So, Sarah, tell me all about how things have been going. Training, the base, everything.”

I glanced at Dean, who was staring into his glass of crystal-clear water. “Dean’s been riding my ass,” I said, making sure to emphasize my words. “Hard.” I shot Dean a look, hoping to get some sort of reaction. “He’s a good teacher. I’ve already learned a lot from him.”

I very quietly kicked off one of my heels. I was determined to make Dean look at me. Under the table, I slid my foot up Dean’s shin, deciding to be a shit-stirrer for kicks. He didn’t react, which only spurred me to push further. The man was like a statue. I nudged his leg more aggressively, daring him to keep a straight face.

My father chuckled, oblivious to the tension. “That’s good to hear. I knew he’d be a great mentor for you.”

Dean remained stoic, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular. My father continued talking, unaware of the silent showdown happening beneath the table. I slid my foot back down Dean’s leg and managed to get my toes under the cuff of his pants.

Dean finally shifted in his seat, causing me to freeze as he discreetly moved his leg away from mine. His eyes met mine briefly, a flicker of warning in his gaze before he smoothly continued the conversation with my father. I bit back my smile and stretched my leg until my foot connected with his leg once again.

As I continued to press and tease, Dean’s jaw tensed ever so slightly. His gaze flicked down toward the table then back up at me again. His facial expression remained unchanging, but his eyes were stormy with warning.

I pressed my foot harder against his shin, a silent challenge. His glance shifted back toward my father, resuming their discussion about the old days when Dean was a young pilot in training. They laughed and reminisced, with Dean occasionally throwing in a comment or two. I scrutinized his every move he made along with the tone of his voice, trying to decipher any sign that he was affected by my provocation.

I got nothing except for the occasional flare of his nostrils or clenched jaw.

Our meals were delivered, and I finally gave him a break. But after a few minutes, I missed the contact with his leg and found my foot sliding back over to him.

Dean sighed, a soft, barely audible sound that had me grinning into my plate of food. I sensed victory just around the corner. I kept my gaze fixed on my dinner, feigning complete ignorance as I continued toying with the man.

My father was too engrossed in his steak, chewing and savoring each bite, to notice anything out of the ordinary. After swallowing another mouthful of food, he asked about a few people I had never heard of. They continued talking about this person and that. I was quickly bored.

When my father excused himself to use the restroom, Dean’s head whipped around, pinning with me an accusing gaze.

“Stop acting like a child,” he snapped, his eyes flashing with irritation.

“I’m anything but a child, and you know it,” I retorted.

“You put that foot on me again, you’re not going to be walking out of here,” he warned.

“You’ve checked me out six times since you sat down,” I said, a smirk playing on my lips.

He didn’t deny it. “You look good in that dress. Sue me.”

I savored the compliment, but I wasn’t about to let him see it. “I didn’t wear it for you.”

“No shit. You didn’t know I was coming. Maybe I should tell your father what a manipulative little⁠—”

He broke off abruptly as my father returned, sitting down and fanning his napkin over his lap. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just talking about training.”

Dad seemed satisfied with that and launched into a story about an old friend from his flying days. I half-listened, my mind still buzzing from the heated exchange with Dean. I probably should have known better, but I couldn’t resist teasing Dean a little more. I was tempted to check out his level of arousal but wasn’t sure if my dad would be able to see my foot stroking Dean’s cock. That might be a bit of an issue.

After I finished my meal, I stood up to use the ladies’ room. When Dean got to his feet in a show of good manners, I didn’t miss the fact he kept the napkin that had been draped across his lap casually hanging in front of his crotch. I almost burst into laughter.

I excused myself with a polite smile and a not-so-polite glance at his crotch. I walked away, making sure I swayed my hips. I knew he was watching and wanted to make sure he knew exactly what he was missing out on.

I looked in the mirror in the bathroom and tried to see what he saw. Tonight, I looked feminine. I felt pretty. Sexy. Dean had to be attracted to me. If he could be turned on by me when I was hot, sweaty, and beet red from a workout that nearly killed me, this had to be doing something for him.

I lifted and squeezed my breasts, making sure the girls looked their best.

When I walked back to the table, Dean was engaged in deep conversation with my father. His eyes flicked to me as I approached, dark and unreadable. I slid back into my chair, feigning innocence, even as I angled my foot to brush against his leg once more beneath the table.

He stiffened slightly but maintained his composure, keeping his attention split between my father and the interaction under the table. I watched him with a perceptive gaze, delighting in the subtle squirm of discomfort he tried to conceal. It was a cat and mouse game, only this time I was the cat and he was the unfortunate mouse.

“I ordered dessert,” Dad announced.

“Great.” I smiled. “What did you decide on?”

“Tiramisu,” Dad replied.

“Perfect.”

Dean cleared his throat when my toes brushed his upper, inner thigh but he continued the conversation with my father without missing a beat. His fingers tightened around his glass of soda momentarily before relaxing again.

This was why he was an amazing pilot. He could block out everything and focus. I admired that. And maybe it was the wine or the lack of sex for months, but everything the man did turned me on.

As the tiramisu arrived at the table, my father and Dean engaged in a lively discussion about the latest advancements in aviation technology. I tried to participate, but my mind kept drifting back to the clandestine game I was playing under the table with Dean. My focus was on something else entirely. I wanted him.

I took a bite of the dessert, savoring the creamy sweetness on my tongue as I dared to let my foot wander even further up Dean’s thigh. His hand twitched slightly, betraying a hint of arousal that sent a rush of excitement through me. I could feel the heat building between us and wondered how crazy I could drive him before he cracked.