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Tonight she wore blue jeans, tan suede knee-high boots, and a pink blouse showing off a little cleavage, which she hoped didn’t look too dressed down next to Dmitri. But at Mickey’s, if she wore a dress or anything fancy, she’d look too dressed up.
Wrapping her hand around the door handle, she whisked it open, and her breath caught in her throat. Dmitri had always worn black slacks and dress shirts; the only time she’d seen him dressed down was when he’d shown up at the dental clinic, when she was a bit preoccupied to pay attention to his clothing.
Now he had on dark blue jeans with a baby blue T-shirt that did wonders for his eyes, and his hair was a little messy, as if windblown. The lower half of his body looked nice packaged in a pair of jeans, and she suspected his ass looked even better.
She scanned over his muscular arms, and in the daylight, the tattoo on his forearm was sexier than she had ever thought in the dungeon—perhaps because she knew what his tattoo stood for, while strangers would simply see it as a triple dragon tattoo and nothing more.
When she looked into his face, he was looking her over from head to toe. “Doll, I like this look on you.” A slow smile spread across his face. “Very beautiful.”
Her cheeks warmed, not only at his compliment but also at the memory of their seriously good phone sex. “Thank you.” Maybe she meant that for the spectacular orgasm, too, and because it had worked to settle her, taking off the edge. The last two nights, she’d slept better than she had all week.
Dmitri leaned in and kissed her lips in a whisper of a touch, even if his mouth rushed heat into her body. “Ready?”
“Yep, let me grab my purse.” Presley reached in and took her clutch off the table by the door. She hurried out, locked the door behind her, and with a smile stepped into stride with him down the front walkway. At his BMW, Dmitri opened the door for her, and Presley sank into the black leather seat. Once again, as she’d felt last weekend when Dmitri had driven her home, she was almost afraid to touch the expensive car, but she managed to put her seat belt on.
The sports car appeared lived in, with a pack of gum in the cup holder and sunglasses in the compartment above, but it was obvious that Dmitri took care of his car like he’d taken care of her, with exquisite appreciation.
After she settled into her seat, he shut her door, and she watched him stride in front of the hood, a little beside herself that this was happening. Was this powerful, influential man seriously taking her out on a date?
The driver’s-side door opened and snapped her out of her insecurities, and as he joined her in the car, he asked, “How was your day?”
“Busy but good, you?”
Turning on the ignition, he gave her his smile. “My day exactly.” He put the car in first gear and lowered the parking brake. Then he booked it down the road.
As she glanced sideways at him, Dmitri impressed her. Fancy things made men appear more powerful, or so she thought, which only made her regret her choice of restaurant. He would hate the sports bar, she assumed; surely he ate at five-star establishments,
not noisy pubs with greasy burgers.
Dmitri shifted to second gear, and the car jerked forward with force. When Presley laughed, he looked at her with a devilish grin. “Ah, she likes speed.”
Leaning her head against the headrest, she nodded. “The car’s powerful, huh?”
A slow darkness reached Dmitri’s features before he took a hard right. After a few more turns, the city faded away to a dead street. A few large factories were up ahead, but other than that, the world was quiet in this area. He turned to her and arched an eyebrow. “Seat belt all tight, doll?”
She tested it, giving it a firm yank. “Yes. Why?”
With the smile still on his face, he turned his attention to the straight road and slammed his foot on the gas pedal. He shifted gears so fast. The view around her became a blur, and the engine purred as if it relished being pushed to high speeds, though Dmitri, as always, appeared in control.
Near the fork in the road, he downshifted and the engine hummed as the car slowed, returning her heartbeat to an appropriate speed.
“How was that for you, love?” He grinned.
Excitement fluttered through her veins. “Do it again.”
“Incorrigible.” Dmitri chuckled, but he turned the car around and pointed the hood toward the long street. This time he went even faster.
When they arrived at Mickey’s, Presley’s adrenaline was bursting at the seams, which only increased when they sat down and ordered their meal. No man—or woman, for that matter—had ever paid her so much attention, as if he simply wanted to be with her and time meant nothing to him.
Even now, as Presley sat across from Dmitri at the table, and they were surrounded by music, multiple television screens airing the football games, plus the loud banter from customers in the bar, his focus stayed entirely on her. He always looked at her or touched her in some way. Instead of eating some fancy dinner, he had ordered the largest hamburger, and she couldn’t restrain her laughter.
One sleek eyebrow lifted. “Do I amuse you, doll?”
“Kinda.” She shrugged and fought off her amusement. “I didn’t expect you to fit in here, and well, you do.”
He placed his burger on the plate and frowned. “I should be insulted, you think I’m so stiff.”
“Not stiff,” she countered. “Just fancy.”
