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“Ready to go in?” Adam asks, his voice hinting that he’s closer than I was expecting. I didn’t even hear him get out of the car.
“Yep.” I steel my expression and turn around.
He’s waiting at the front of his car, his arms crossed as he looks ahead of him. If he was even half as affected by what just happened between us as I am, he doesn’t show it. I meet him by the hood of his gleaming two-door Mercedes, and we make our way to the shop.
“I hope you’re not a vegan. This place has the best cheesesteak subs in the city,” he says while pulling open the door and holding it for me. A bell rings from above it, announcing our entrance as we both walk inside.
“I’m not. But I didn’t know there was a competition over who had the best cheesesteak.”
He places a hand on my lower back and steers me through the small gap between tables leading to the front counter. I risk a glance up at him to find his eyes already on me. He winks. “There can be competition in anything, Scary Spice.”
I scoff at the ridiculous nickname that he refuses to let die as we come to a stop in front of a waist-high counter. Adam doesn’t remove his hand from my back even as we wait to be served, but I pretend that doesn’t matter.
“Yes, but this one seems a bit unwarranted. Are there even that many places that sell cheesesteak subs?”
A gasp comes from in front of us. An older man who looks to be maybe in his early fifties has frozen in front of one of the back doors and stares at me with pure horror in his eyes. Adam coughs to cover his laugh while my cheeks burn a bright pink.
“Are there not stars in the sky?” the man guffaws, his voice thick with an accent I can’t pinpoint. “Or fish in the sea?”
Okay, I think we’ve gotten a little off base here. I open my mouth to say something in my defense—like maybe not all of us are sandwich connoisseurs—but end up smashing my lips together when Adam moves his hand from its previous place on my lower back to my side, or more specifically, my waist. I go rigid when his arm wraps around me, and our bodies drift closer, as if pulled together by something completely out of our control.
An awful squawking noise rushes out of me, and my body jolts in surprise when Adam quickly pinches my side. I slap my hand over his and squeeze hard, the sheer size difference between them making my mind wander to a very inappropriate place. What the hell is he doing?
With a soft chuckle, he bends down close enough I can feel his breath on my cheek and smell the bubble gum he was chewing in the car and whispers, “It’s better not to argue with Bernard. Who knows if he’ll tell the cook to put anchovies in your sub.”
And then, as if unaffected by touching me, he removes his hand from my side, setting it on the counter instead, before grinning at this Bernard. “Don’t mind the pretty lady, Bernie. Scarlett here is very uncultured in the world of sub sandwiches, but she’s a quick learner.” He glances at me for a second, and I nearly swoon at the smile lighting up his face.
I look at the older man and nod while pretending I didn’t catch Adam’s sly attempt at a compliment or the flapping sensation in my belly that followed it. “He’s right. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Bernard assesses me for a hard second before tipping his chin and clicking away on the order screen in front of him. “Fine. Now, go sit and wait. I will make you two cheesesteak subs.”
I narrow my eyes when Adam pulls his wallet out of his pocket and slips out his bank card, prepared to pay for them both. Snapping my hand out, I snatch the card from his fingers and shove it down my shirt, into my bra. I look down my shirt, and my eyes go wide.
“I . . . uh . . . I said I was paying for my own,” I stammer. Hello, God, if you’re listening, now would be a great time to snatch me up. Without looking at Adam, I slip my own bank card from the pouch on the back of my phone and, without looking at the price, pay for both our subs.
Adam chuckles softly. He leans in close, the short hairs on his jaw scratching my cheek. “Can I have my card back now? Or do you intend to keep it?”
I inhale a shuttered breath. “I’ll give it to you when you back up.”
That laugh again. “Right.” He leans back, and I watch as he takes a step away. “I guess I should be thanking you for lunch.”
“Yes, you should,” I say while dipping my hand inside my shirt and pulling his card out from the top of my bra. “I told you I would pay.”
He holds my stare and, with two fingers, slowly pulls the card from my hand. He shoves it into his pocket while saying, “Consider this the first and only time, Scarlett. I’m a gentleman, after all, and a gentleman never lets a lady pay.”
I subtly press my thighs together as the dirty undertone of his words settle like a heavy weight between my legs. It’s clearly been too long since I’ve had any sort of release that wasn’t stoked by my vibrator, and having a man that looks like Adam does speak to me with such confidence and suave is turning out to be a bigger problem than I initially thought.
I find myself wondering if he’s always a gentleman or if he drops that act at the bedroom door.
“Here you go,” Bernard drawls. I clear my throat and turn to see him walking around the counter, a bulging plastic bag in his hand. He squints at me while handing over the bag. “You come back and tell me how good it was. Yes?”
“Sure,” I agree.
He shifts his attention to Adam. “I know you will come back. You can’t get enough of my subs.”
Adam sighs. “Too true, Bernie. You’re the reason I’ve had to put in more time at the gym.” He pats his stomach. The stomach that I have no doubt is rock fucking hard. “I’m getting a bit saggy.”
I snort before I can stop myself, and Adam swings his head to stare at me. “What?” he asks, a sly smile pulling at his mouth.
