"I'm fine."
"Liar."
The word should offend me. Instead, it makes heat pool between my thighs.
His hand finds my leg beneath the table. Casual. Possessive. His palm presses warm against my thigh through the thin fabric of my skirt, and my breath catches in my throat.
"You're thinking about last night." He leans close, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he speaks. "About what you saw through our connecting door."
My heart wants to shrivel up and fall to the floor dead one second and then decide that isn’t nearly as dramatic as hammering so hard against my ribs I see white dots. I clear my throat. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Liar twice over." The word is a caress, rough and knowing. "I heard you, Katriana. Heard your breath catch when I said your name. Felt you watching me in the darkness."
For a moment all I can hear are our mingled breaths. My gaze drops and I spy the shadowed bulge of his arousal. I inhale softly and let the scent of him work through me. My eyes flick back to his and I find him watching me intently. Hungrily.
“Drake…” I don’t know what I want to say. Please fuck me. Please tear down this wall I’ve built and can’t get past that is keeping me a virgin. Please just make me yours…
All the above.
“Katriana,” he murmurs in the sexiest roughened voice I’ve heard. His fingers trace higher, and my thighs part slightly of their own accord. I should stop him. We're in public. Anyone could see. The lighting is dimmed and we are in a booth, but still.
And yet I find myself leaning into him. I wrap my fingers around his wrist. Not to push him away. But to anchor myself as the world tilts beneath me.
"That's it, baby girl." His voice is sin against my ear. "Let me touch you."
I'm breathing heavily now, my chest rising and falling with each desperate inhale. His fingers trace patterns on my inner thigh, maddeningly close to where I ache for him but never quite reaching. And then I'm guiding his hand higher, up under my skirt to the very edge of my panties.
His sharp intake of breath tells me he wasn't expecting that.
Good. Let him be the one caught off guard for once.
His fingers brush against the delicate silk, and a moan threatens to escape my throat. I bite down on my lip to contain it, tasting blood and desperation.
"We should leave." Drake's voice has gone rough, strained with desire.
I trace a finger over the sharp edge of his stubbled chin. "We haven't had that dessert you mentioned." I’m only kidding, but the flash of lust in his eyes tells me he’s had a change of plans.
"YOU are the dessert."
Ahh…
He signals for the check with a gesture that brooks no argument. As we rise to leave, Drake's gaze snags on something across the restaurant. His expression hardens for a fraction of a second.
“What is it?”
He shakes his head, but I notice the way his jaw tightens and the way his eyes go cold.
My stomach clenches.
And then it's gone. I follow his line of sight but see only the usual crowd of elegant diners. Before I can ask, his hand finds my lower back and he's guiding me toward the exit with an urgency that wasn't there before.
Within minutes we're outside, the cool night air doing nothing to temper the heat burning through my veins. Drake opens the passenger door and helps me inside, his hand lingering on my lower back a moment longer than necessary. He rounds the car and slides into the driver's seat, the engine purring to life beneath us.
I expect him to pull into traffic and head back to Redthorne Holdings where our separate bedrooms await.
Instead, he reaches across the console and drags me onto his lap.
I gasp as my knees bracket his hips, my skirt riding up my thighs in a way that should feel indecent. The steering wheel presses against my back. His hands grip my hips with bruising intensity. And then his mouth crushes against mine.
