“You don’t date much, do you?” I asked.
“Not really.”
“It’s perfectly okay for you to decide some things for me tonight,” I said.
“Where we go?” he tested, tapping the steering wheel and giving me a sidelong glance.
“Yes.”
“The wine?”
That was easy enough. Wine had been Rome’s thing anyway, not mine. “Yes.”
“Appetizers?” he asked.
“Yes.” I swallowed thickly, something about this conversation felt like foreplay. I shifted my weight, trying to get comfortable in the seatbelt that suddenly felt like it was going to choke me.
“Entree?”
It felt like a stretch, maybe for both of us. I let out a breath and it trembled across my lips as I offered him the next answer, “Yes.”
Miles licked his lips, the confidence settling back on his face and making me achingly and unnecessarily hard.
“Dessert?” He arched a brow, stare flicking down between my legs.
I adjusted my hands on my lap, trying to shield the growing bulge from his view. I couldn’t rightly sit here and tell him I didn’t want to play games like this outside of the bedroom when my body so clearly did. My brain briefly reminded me there could be a middle ground, between everything and nothing, but it was up to me—up to us—to figure out what that looked like. After all, I wasn’t the only one who’d said no to something 24/7. But judging by the low rasp of Miles’s voice, we were still on the same page, and it was a nice new one.
“Yes.”
“And after?”
“Yes.”
“If I asked you to move your hands, would you?” Miles shifted in his seat, facing me and putting the car back into park. It rolled back slightly, and I let my hands fall onto my thighs before dropping them to the edges of the seat. My cock was half-hard, pushing against my briefs and the zipper of my pants.
“You’re hard,” he observed, and I didn’t think that required my affirmation, so I bit my tongue and stared out the windshield.
“Did I already ask how you felt about sex in public?”
“No, you haven’t,” I whispered.
Miles made a thoughtful noise. “Good to know. Were you ready for dinner?”
He threw the car back into reverse and backed out of the driveway, leaving me momentarily speechless. I’d expected the conversation to continue. I’d expected him to ask me how I felt about sex in public. I was glad he hadn’t, though, because I didn’t have a good answer for him. I was far too old to get picked up on a solicitation charge, but the thought of the rushed secrecy, the quiet grunts, and everything else that came with a public romp held more than a little appeal for me.
He didn’t wait for my answer, instead driving us across town to a shack of a restaurant somewhere in the Hollywood hills. I wasn’t familiar enough with the area to know where it was or how far we’d gone, but the ambiance of the place was unmistakable. The building was small, built into the hillside with horizontal slats of wood and broad plate glass windows that overlooked the valley. There was a decent sized patio, concrete with round tables and stuffed chairs that would have looked more at home in a rich man’s library than a hillside restaurant. Twinkle lights crisscrossed their way overhead, leading to the front door and the dimly lit interior.
Lost in the view, I didn’t realize how long I’d stayed in the car until Miles opened the passenger door. He flexed his free hand, like he’d intended to offer it to me before thinking better of it. I climbed out of the SUV, relieved that my erection had been kind enough to settle over the course of the drive. Miles also glanced down, looking less pleased at the results.
“Good?” he asked.
I nodded and stepped alongside him. We set off through the parking lot, gravel crunching beneath our feet, until we reached the host stand at the edge of the outside seating area.
“Reservation for two.” Miles drummed his first two fingers on the edge of the podium. “Miles Kirsh.”
“Mr. Kirsh.” The host smiled at him, head inclined to the side like there was an unspoken familiarity between them. “Inside or outside?”
Miles looked to me. “Do you have a preference?”
