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“Thank you,” he said, closing his fist around the black lace. “Now, lift your skirt and sit on your bare ass.”
I swallowed hard, but obeyed, grateful that I’d worn a pleated skirt that flared out around me on the booth’s seat, disguising my nudity beneath. I was even more thankful when his hand disappeared to tuck the intimate lingerie into his pocket, seconds before the waitress reached our table.
“I hope you saved room for dessert,” the woman said with a large smile. “We’re known for our sopapillas.”
“I don’t—”
“That sounds wonderful,” Brett said, cutting me off. “We’ll have an order of those. I’d like a cup of coffee as well. Hannah, would you care for something else to drink?”
God, yes. I wanted the largest, most tequila-laden margarita on the planet, but I simply shook my head, reaching for my glass of water.
“I’ll have those right out.”
“I really don’t want any dessert,” I said, as the woman left.
His lips curled up and he chuckled. “We both know that what you really don’t want is to have to remain seated, sans panties, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, sir.” The ‘sir’ slipped out of my mouth without thought. Chalking it up to the bizarreness of the situation, along with the question of why my tummy kept doing little flips at the way he looked at me, his words, and the tone he was using, I refused to consider that there was something about the quiet, controlled, stern tone of his voice that instantly made me feel both contrite and… well, horny. How that was possible, I had no idea.
The crisp fried dough was delicious, and I accepted every bite he offered me. I knew he could have extended his hand further, yet didn’t. I also knew he was aware that every bite meant I had to lean forward, the movement something I would never have noticed but for the fact that my bare skin would lift a bit to accept the offering, then lower against the leather of the booth as I chewed and swallowed. Up and down, forward and back, my thighs having to clench tighter and tighter as I felt moisture gathering between my legs when he waited for me to lick his fingers free of the sticky honey he’d drizzled the sopapilla with before offering it to me. Finally, the last crumb was eaten. Brett signed the credit card slip and stood, extending his hand. I slipped mine into it and allowed him to help me from the booth, putting my free hand behind me to assure my skirt dropped to cover my butt. Though I’d kept my thighs pressed as tightly together as possible, I barely refrained from looking back to see if there was any evidence of my embarrassing arousal left on the leather.
Suddenly it all made sense. I’d always been the less adventurous one. Brett was the opposite. He was a born and bred military man. He was in Special Forces, for God’s sake. He had no qualms about taking life by the horns, and the moment I had admitted that I felt my life was out of control, he’d evidently come up with a plan of operation. This was just his way of setting the stage for some sort of sexy play, one that pushed my boundaries. I instantly relaxed, understanding why I was turned on.
I snuggled into his side as we walked out of the restaurant. “You know, you really had me going there for a moment.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, pressing a button on his key fob to unlock the car.
“Being so stern and sexy, making me squirm and getting me all hot and bothered. So what’s next? Are you going to slip me a room key to your hotel suite where we’ll pretend to be strangers meeting for some kinky sex?”
Opening my door, he looked down at me. “Skirt up,” he instructed.
That caught me off guard, but considering the fact that we’d yet to reach whatever hotel he’d booked to finish our little game, I lifted my skirt and practically jumped into the car. Brett reached across to buckle my seatbelt, and I caught a whiff of his cologne, the scent zinging straight through me to settle between my legs. I was about to reach to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss when instead, I dropped my hands to my lap, attempting to push down the skirt he had lifted to tuck into the seatbelt.
“Brett!”
“Hands at your sides.”
“But what if… if someone sees?”
“Then they will know that you’ve been a very naughty girl, won’t they?”
Taking my hands, he placed them at my sides. I felt his kiss brush the top of my head before he closed my door. Where had he come up with these… these things? And why did I feel exactly as he described—naughty?
As we drove, I wondered if he had some sort of hidden device that assured every single light turned red. My eyes would instantly flick to the side window, praying that any car beside ours was not high enough to allow the occupants to look down into our vehicle. The third time we stopped, I squealed when a swat on my thigh had my head whipping to Brett.
“Ouch! What was that for!”
“Since you can’t keep your hands down, sit on them.”
“What?”
“Perhaps we need to add a hearing test to your next doctor’s appointment,” Brett said. “Lift your ass, slip your hands beneath it, and sit down.”
“Wouldn’t you rather I put my hands on you?” I asked, reaching over and running my fingers along his thigh.
His answer was to pull to the side of the road and put the car into park. I smiled, loving that he was just as excited as I was. But when I moved to run a fingertip along the front of his zipper, his hand caught mine, lifting it away.
“Hannah, I’m not sure what you think you are doing, but it’s not going to work.”
