If she thought that he was going to haul her up off of the floor and onto the bed, she was delusional, he thought, straightening his tie in her bedroom mirror. She’d slipped into the bathroom to ‘freshen up’, girlspeak for pissing, he guessed.
Looking around at the explosion of clothing in her room, he eyeballed the bed. OH, yeah, he definitely thought about fucking her brains out, but in this room? Though he was not a neat freak, he was afraid someone would quite possibly put an eye out on some of the garments strewn about. He gave her points for her bed being made.
His eyes narrowed. Her bed was made. The only clothing thrown higgley piggly about the room was sexy clothing. A wide smile broke like dawn across his face. Sexy clothing. Everywhere. She wasn’t just nervous about dating her boss, she wanted to look sexy for him.
As he’d jokingly ordered her.
Well now, wasn’t that a kick in the arse? The smile slid away as he heard the toilet flush. There was no point in rubbing it in her face. Yet. All things in good time, as was said. Sliding his hands in his pockets, he moved to the living room to wait for her.
“I suppose your reservations are ruined. Sorry.”
yeah right, sorry not sorry, she thought as she stepped into view.
“No indeed. I called ahead to bump up our time. We’re good.”
“Oh, great,” she said with patently false enthusiasm.
“Let’s go then, shall we?”
“shall we” she muttered under her breath, but of course he was all eagle-eared and heard it.
“Tsk tsk. Mocking your boyfriend isn’t nice.”
“You are NOT my boyfriend. This is a debt to be paid.”
“Ah, So…you won’t get any enjoyment out of the evening then. Shall I take you to a burger joint and get you fries and a shake instead of steak and caviar?”
“I don’t like caviar. Too salty.” In truth, she’d never had any.
“Uh huh,” he replied, taking her arm. “Let’s go, Kat, and stop stalling.”
As if to emphasize the point, his stomach rumbled and she laughed. “Even your stomach has to add its two cents?” she laughed, poking his belly with her elbow as she slipped into her shoes.
“Hmm,” was his only reply as he watched her body move in interesting ways under the dress. “Nice shoes.”
“Hmm,” she mocked him.
“This could be a long evening.”
“Or a short one,” she retorted. “You could get sick of me and take me home early.”
He just smiled that smirky-face smile and held the door for her.
The restaurant was quiet and elegant. Subtle wait staff, fine wine, snowy linens. There was some soft music playing at the edges of her hearing, but she was drawn again and again to his face. He laughed. He teased. He gestured with his silverware. He stole her food, and plopped some of his on her plate, then laughed when her eyes rolled at him.
The waiter removed their dishes, and he ordered ice cream for dessert.
“What, no chocolate cake?”
“Don’t want you weighed down with all that in your belly when we go dancing.”
“Dancing?!” Her voice squeaked. “You never said a thing about that?”
“How neglectful of me.”
In truth, he didn’t look apologetic at all. Then again, it wasn’t really an apology. Her brows furrowed as she stared at him. He looked back at her, eyes dancing, chin resting in his palm. Daring her. He was silently needling her and she was not going to fall for it. Letting her breath out slowly, she smiled at him.
If she’d hoped to fuddle him, she failed. He just smiled and leaned back as their ice cream was served. When the waiter left, he gestured with his spoon.
She stood beside him as they waited for their coats. Her back straightened, shoulders back, and shot him a look when his hand slid over the curve of her ass.
“What. Was. That.”
Gritting her teeth, she looked up at him.
“I know it was your hand.”
“Why did you ask? Did you think it was my foot?”
There was that deep breath again, in, out, in, out. She was not going to let him goad her. Pizza and temper had gotten her into this mess, and calm was going to get her home in her bed alone in a little bit. She was not going to let him poke her into flaring at him.
“I was sure it wasn’t your foot, because that is firmly planted…”
That smirk, again. So help her god, she was going to…breathe, breathe…
“on the floor. Why was your hand on my butt?”
“Well, sometimes hands have a mind of their own. It’s a very curvy ass.”
“You’re calling me …fat?”
“Curvy. In all the right places. I’m not into stick figure women, Kat.”
“Oh, so all I need to do to get you to leave me alone is go on a diet?”
He laughed. He was so fucking outrageously sexy when he laughed like that. All-in, that was how he expressed his joy. Head back, lips smiling, the total abandon of his guffaws made her smile.
Except, she wasn’t going to smile and encourage him.
He flicked a finger down her cheek.
“So serious. Yet, a lovely ass. I doubt if anything you did could discourage me…other than saying ‘no’. No is acceptable…if you are truly uncomfortable with me.”
Considering the current climate, it was a decent thing for him to say. And truthfully, he wasn’t forcing her to do any of this. He may have tweaked her into it, but she was honest enough to admit that she was…kind of…sort of…maybe enjoying his company.
At least he wasn’t her boss, so that bridge was gone downriver.
She leaned close.
“I could fart.”
“One assumes so, yes. Amazingly enough, so do I.”
“I could have spinach between my teeth.”
“You didn’t even look.”
“You didn’t have spinach at dinner.”
“Well, I didn’t have it today.”
“Oh.” That gave him pause.
“Well, that might preclude me kissing you…but since I already have, I can confidently say that you do not, nor did you earlier, have spinach between your teeth.”
She laughed. He loved the way her entire face lit up when she really let herself go. This was becoming a very enjoyable evening, and yet the best was yet to come. No pun intended.
He leaned close again.
“How about, before the coats come, you jot into that restroom and remove your panties for me?”
Her mouth fell open, and she looked up at him, wide-eyed, before leaning up to his ear. Coming towards them was the hostess with their jackets in hand. She held his arm to brace herself as she rose to tiptoes to whisper in his ear.
“I can’t do that!”
He looked down at her, and grinned that heart-melting, devilish grin.
“Sure you can,” he said, normal voiced.
On tiptoe again, she tugged him down lower to her mouth by his tie.
“I can’t,” she whispered, sounding breathless. He had to admit that the sound of her voice, and the wisp of her warm breath against his ear was a two-pronged turn on.
“But I can’t,” she said again, then swirled her tongue around his ear, the cheeky witch!
“I’m not wearing any.”