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Nope.
That couldn’t happen.
“Trust me. I’m super boring. I watch documentaries on Netflix.” Which was true. “I hate action films, which I bet you love. And my favorite ice cream is vanilla.”
Blake's smile stretched across his face, and she shivered as he leaned in, pressing his lips gently against her ear.
“Sweetheart, I don’t watch movies when I fuck. But if you want ice cream, I am happy to arrange it.”
As she was gawking, Blake stood and dropped his napkin on the table, then reached out his hand.
“I’m...I’m not going home with you!” she spluttered.
He chuckled. Then she heard Taylor and Rhonda do the same.
Oh my God.
“Bella Montgomery, slow down. I was just going to invite you to the bar for a drink so we can give our friends here some privacy.”
For about the tenth time that night, she felt her cheeks burning brightly.
Damn this man.
––––––––
BLAKE LED BELLA ACROSSthe restaurant and helped her up onto a stool. Then he ordered drinks.
“Macallan and a glass of your best Pinot Gris,” he said, rolling up the sleeves of his Tom Ford shirt a little higher.
“That’s not what I meant,” Bella mumbled, still shaking her head.
Why did her embarrassment make him so fucking hard? Because it did.
“Are you sure? Between the ice cream and your décolletage blushing like a virgin bride, I’m getting all kinds of ideas.” Blake leaned against the bar and smirked as she glanced down at her breasts.
He could tell they were small but perky in the silk cowl-neck top. Her nipples were hard and visible until she crossed her arms.
“Would you like a straw with your wine, or do you intend to uncross your arms?”
“You are annoying,” Bella snapped, uncrossing them.
“But you like me,” Blake said, lifting his glass to his lips.
“I’m here for Rhonda,” Bella said. “So they can...”
“Fuck?”
“You’re so crude.” She frowned.
Blake placed his whisky on the bar and studied her. For a second, he wondered if she was a virgin? Then she licked her lips and her eyes dropped to his crotch.
No, there was no fucking way.
Checking the time on his Patek Philippe watch, Blake decided his patience was running out. If his instinct was right, Bella would try to make an excuse to leave soon, and that wasn’t happening.
“When was the last time you had sex?” he asked.
“What?” she startled.
