Page 212 of The Bluffing Game

“I can’t do that, Dalton.”

“You can. You just don’t want to.”

“I am here with Parker.”

“And what do I care about that?” he says as he slides one of the straps of my dress down my arm.

“What are you doing?”

“This,” he says. He kisses my shoulder to my collarbone and then up my neck and toward my lips again. “I just want to keep doing this all night.”

“Well, you can’t,” I say as I push him back. “We can’t be doing any of this.”

“Pity,” he says. He exhales a deep sigh, and he tucks his shirt back into his pants. “I suppose I need to be a good boy so you can enjoy your date.”

“Yes, you do.” I pull my strap up and gently run my palms down the front of my dress.

“So, what about if I want to take you to dinner tomorrow?” he asks, softer. His eyes search mine.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Before we arranged this date, Parker asked me if I wanted to go to the beach tomorrow, and I told him I’d tell him yes or no, depending on how this date went.”

“Well, obviously, this date went shitty.” He grins. “You’re in the restroom, making out with me.”

“Dalton,” I admonish him.

“What? We can go and tell him right now. If you’d rather, I can go and tell him right now, and he can leave, and then we can go.”

“No, that’s so rude. I can’t do that.”

“Okay, fine,” he says, and he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me toward him again. “You can just pretend like you’re not pressed up against me right now. You can pretend this doesn’t feel good.” He rubs his finger against my bottom lip. “You can pretend you don’t want me to slip my fingers into your panties and feel how wet you are.”

“I’m not wet,” I lie.

He chuckles. “You want to bet?”

“Dalton.” I glare at him as he lifts my skirt up, but I don’t stop him.

“I just want to see something,” he says as he runs his fingers lightly between my legs and touches the thinness of my damp panties.

He grins, and I moan, holding on to his shoulders as he rubs me gently. My legs shudder beneath me. He slips a finger inside my panties and rubs my clit a few times. When he pulls his finger out, my eyes fly open. I am barely breathing.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I just wanted to see if you were lying or not.” Then he licks his lips and sucks his finger. “But now I know the maître d’ wasn’t lying.”

I blink at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“They definitely have the best beverages in this restaurant. Only the beverage I want isn’t on the menu.” He whispers in my ear, “I want to eat you so badly. I want to lick you so badly. I want to taste you so badly. But I can wait, Sage. Know I’m a patient man, and when you’re ready”—he steps back and smiles at me—“I’ll be all yours.”

“Who says I’ll ever be ready?” I stalk toward him and go to grab the door handle.

He pulls me toward him and kisses me again; this time, he lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He pushes me back into the wall and teases me again with his lips while lightly grinding into me so that I can feel his hardness. He slips his hand down, rubs me gently across my mound, and I almost cry out at how good it feels.

“You don’t think you’ll ever be ready?” He raises an eyebrow in question as he slips my panties to the side and rubs his fingers urgently against me.

My eyes roll back in my head as the feelings of pleasure ripple through me, and I moan loudly.

“Hey, anyone in there?” A loud banging on the door makes us stop, and I gasp in shock, suddenly remembering where I am.