Forcing another smile down, I grabbed my own wine glass and shot the rest back. Getting tipsy wasn’t exactly on the list for tonight, however it certainly made it easier to ignore the buzzing at the back of my skull that was fighting with me to get up and rearrange our seats so he was sitting in my lap instead.
Thinking of getting a good handful of his thigh while he continued to lick his fork clean had me knocking my legs apart as I grew stiff in my pants.
Another fantasy to add to my ever-growing collection.
How annoying.
“Eat your food,” I said.
“I will as long as you promise to give me your leftovers.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you’re that desperate for a meal tomorrow, just say so. Aren’t cops supposed to have decent pay?”
“First of all, I’m new to the precinct, hence the bottom of the salary totem pole. And two, public service doesn’t exactly give me enough money in the bank to be slapping down half my paycheck for a nice meal. Unlike someone who casually drives around the equivalent of what my house costs.”
“Again, just call me stuck up. It’s less words.”
He laughed.
“When the waiter comes back around, order whatever to go. It’s not like I’ll notice it on next month’s credit card statement.”
“Oh my god, you disgust me.”
I stuck my fork into one of the pieces on my plate, dragging it languidly along the trail of glaze the chef had filigreed the plate with. “So says the one dressed pretty for me. I bet that garter belt is digging into your skin right about now.”
“Among other things.”
My eyes shot up to catch his gaze.
“I was going to wear the bodysuit,” he continued, a slight flush to his cheeks, his fork milling about his plate while he pushed around his food. “But since you requested something specific, I figured this first time would be a bad time to deviate from that.”
Too many things were hammering around in my head. Two pieces of information were latched onto immediately.First timeimplied the expectation of another rendezvous. We’d see where it went and go from there before getting ahead of ourselves.
A bodysuit?
Oh.
“It’s a little hard to get into,” he said, forking another piece of meat into his mouth. “Lots of ribbon and clasps. You ever dealt with corset ties before?”
I placed my fork very gently next to my plate in order to lean back in my chair.
This man was going to kill me.
Like a carrot being dangled in front of my face, or a feather toy gently twitched in my direction. A means to entice me into agreeing to a second hook up.
It was working. Very well.
“Hmm,” was all I was able to manage to get out.
“You probably didn’t see it. It was in the very back of my closet.”
“For special occasions, I presume?” It was hard to work my mouth. I was too busy staring at the way his lips curled up into a delighted smile that made my stomach twist uncomfortably.
“Something like that. I haven’t broken it in yet, actually.”
If I were the type to make a scene, I’d get up and drag him out of his chair immediately. Unfortunately, my parents hadn’t raised me in a barn and had hammered into me the importance of keeping up social appearances regardless of how little the opinion of others was cared about.
So, instead of bending Terran over this goddamn table like the fucking tease he was, I lifted my hand into the air to flag down our waiter for the check.
