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Her hand stilled on his thigh.
“I know you’re scared to say the words, but you have to know there’s no judgment here. You don’t have to try to impress me with how you say it or make it like one of your calls. I just want you to tell me in your own words.”
She listened, her shoulder rising and falling against his with her deep inhale. “Okay. I’ll try.”
“Go on, baby. I’m listening.”
“I was late coming back to the table because before I got to the restroom, I ran into Emilio in the hallway and we talked for a minute.”
That wasn’t what Pike had expected. “Oh? About what?”
“He told me that you bought the restaurant for Flora after his dad died. That all she owned before was a food truck and they would’ve never made it on that income. He said you saved them.”
Pike’s jaw clenched. Emilio knew better than to share all that. Pike’s role in the restaurant was supposed to be completely silent. The kid had probably been trying to help Pike look good to Oakley. “Flora saved them. Her cooking and business sense has made that place a success. I just got her the building to do it in. It was the least I could do after all she did for me.”
Oakley squeezed his thigh. “It was still a pretty amazing thing to do.”
“You’re still avoiding telling me what you did, Ms. Easton,” he said, peeking over at her. “Don’t think I’m above pulling over to a secluded spot and turning you over my knee.”
Her eyes blinked with surprise at that. Surprise and interest.
He smiled inwardly.
“Fine.” She reached over and dug in her purse. She took his hand and unfurled his palm and placed the silky fabric in it. “First, I went into the restroom and pulled off these.”
Pike glanced down at the flimsy red swath of cloth in his hand and closed his fist around the panties. Fuck. They were still damp. “You were wet before you started.”
“I’ve been like that since minute one tonight,” she said, easing the material from his grip so that he could put both hands back on the wheel. “Even without any smooth lines or name-dropping, you seem to have that effect on me. Or maybe I’m just really hard up.”
He sniffed. “Thanks. You’re great for a guy’s ego.”
“I doubt yours needs help.” Her fingers played along the waistband of his jeans. “By the time I was alone in
the bathroom, I was distracted by the conversation with Emilio. So I had to get my head back into the right space.”
He put his hand over hers, stopping her movements.
She licked her lips. “Can I touch you, Pike? Please.”
At that, he relented. She’d asked and she knew it wasn’t going to get her out of telling the story. He released her hand. “Yes, as long as you keep talking.”
“Deal.” She unhooked the button on his jeans.
He glanced down. Painted fingernails against black jeans, her delicate fingers tugging down his zipper. Fuck, yes.
“So I leaned back against the wall and imagined you were there with me, that you were touching me and trying to keep me quiet so that no one would hear us outside the door.” Her fingertips teased the trail of hair below his belly button.
Pike rubbed his thumbs along the steering wheel, trying to keep calm and focused on the road. “You like the idea of that? That we could be discovered?”
She was quiet for a moment, her fingers idly stroking his abdomen, the scritch-scritch of her nails against the coarse hair erotic in and of itself. “In the right situation, I think it could be exciting.”
He filed that knowledge away. “If I had been there, I would’ve turned you around, pushed up your skirt, and pressed you against the door with one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet and one between your legs to make you come.”
She made a soft, breathy sound and he peered over at her. His eyes flicked down her body over the curves and to the soft material covering her thighs. There’d be nothing beneath that thin layer—just sweet flesh and heat. He reached out and traced the hem of the fabric. “Lift your skirt for me, Oakley.”
He could feel her breath catch, her body going still against his side.
He gazed out at the highway, keeping his expression placid. “I want to see you. You’re getting your own view. It’s only fair I get one, too. Lift up your skirt and spread your knees. It will help me imagine your story better.”
