“Careful,” I warn, voice dropping lower. “Keep looking at me like that and we won’t make it to dessert.”
“And what if I want to be dessert?” she whispers.
Dear god. Where did sweet Violet go? If she wants to play this game in public, I’m more than happy to oblige.
I lean forward, voice dropping to a rough whisper that only she can hear. “You want to know what I’m thinking right now?”
She nods, eyes widening.
“I’m thinking about pushing that pretty dress up aroundyour waist so everyone could see.” I keep my voice low, watching as her pupils dilate.
Her lips part on a silent gasp, cheeks flushing deeper. She glances around, but no one is paying attention to us.
“I bet you’re already wet for me,” I continue. “Aren’t you, baby? Sitting there in that tight dress, pretending to be so proper while your pussy’s dripping.”
She sets her glass down with a shaky hand. “Rowan…”
I take a casual sip of my wine, maintaining eye contact over the rim. “I can’t wait to taste you later. Spread those pretty thighs and lick you until you’re sobbing. But I won’t let you come right away,” I continue, watching her squirm in her seat. “First, I want to feel how tight you get around my fingers when you’re desperate.”
She presses her thighs together under the table, her breath quickening. Her cheeks flame crimson, but she doesn’t look away. The waiter approaches with fresh water as she struggles to compose herself.
“Everything alright with your meals?” he asks politely.
“Perfect,” I answer, never taking my eyes off Violet. “Couldn’t be better.”
When he leaves, I lean in again. “You know what I’m going to do when I get you home? I’m going to rip that pretty dress off you, bend you over the first surface I find, and fuck you until you can’t remember your own name.”
When she speaks, she’s breathless. “Rowan?”
I quirk my brow.
“I need you to take me home.Now.”
I shake my head, settling back in my chair. “No.”
Her eyes widen. “What?”
“I said no.” I signal the waiter. “We’ll take the dessert menu, please.”
“You can’t be serious.”
I meet her gaze, reveling in the flush spreading down herneck and disappearing beneath her dress. “Dead serious. I think we should have dessert first.”
The waiter returns with two elegant menus, and I take my time studying the options while Violet shifts uncomfortably in her seat. The frustration radiating off her in waves in practically tangible.
“The chocolate soufflé looks excellent,” I say conversationally. “What do you think, baby?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I think you’re cruel.”
I smile, reaching across the table to take her hand. “Me? Never. Besides, anticipation makes everything sweeter, doesn’t it?”
“I hate you right now,” she mutters, but there’s no heat behind it.
“No, Violet. You don’t,” I say, my voice dropping to that low register that always makes her shiver. “Youwantme.”
She doesn’t deny it, just takes a sip of her water with unsteady hands.
The waiter returns, pen poised over his notepad. “Have you decided?”
