Game Saver - BJ Harvey Page 0,11
his hand from my hair down and round to cup my cheek.
“You look suitably finger-fucked. My job here is done.”
“It’s unfinished, actually,” I harrumph.
“Everyone seeing us will still know you got yourself some before going out.”
“I got myself a little bit, not some.”
“A little bit is something, isn’t it?” he asks, his eyes dancing wickedly.
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “And you?” I ask, rolling my hips against his hard cock wedged between us.
“Later,” he murmurs, kissing me soft and slow and setting the heat level to slow burn. He jerks himself away. “We’ve gotta go, otherwise I’ll be eating you instead of a meal.”
I tilt my head to the side and shoot him a wicked grin. “Sounds fine to me.”
“You’re trouble with a capital T.”
He takes a step back and holds his hand out to me, the hand that just moments ago turned me to a writhing wanton mess.
“Somehow I think you like my brand of trouble.” I look down to his tented slacks then back to his face. “Really like it.”
He grabs my hand. With our fingers laced together, Cade bends down to pick up my discarded purse, and leads me out the front door without saying a single word about his predicament.
He doesn’t need to. The heat in his gaze speaks volumes.
“This feels like a date,” I announce, now seated opposite Cade at Gaston Brasserie.
His lips quirk as he looks up from the menu. “We’re just two friends having dinner.”
“Friends?”
“Are you saying we’re not?” he asks, quirking a brow.
“Friends don’t bang each other’s brains out on a regular basis.”
He places the menu on the table and leans back in his chair, studying me. “They don’t?”
“Not usually,” I mumble, his heated gaze not helping my concentration levels. I’m still coming down from my almost-orgasm against my couch. I swear it would only take two strokes and a poke and I’d be singing the high notes.
“I beg to differ. I think that’s the best kind of friend to have.”
Maybe one stroke . . .
The waiter comes back and takes our order, but I don’t let the interruption stop me from pursuing what I really want to know.
“Do you have a lot of friends who you sleep with?” I ask before I can stop myself. Why would I care?
His smile gets impossibly bigger, his eyes full of amusement. “Why’s that, Spitfire? Do you want me all to yourself? Because I’m totally down with that. In fact, I think we should be monogamous in our fake relationship with benefits.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I snap, more out of principle that anything else. Well, that’s what I tell myself anyway.
“Oh no, no take-backsies.”
I burst out laughing. “Did you just say no take-backsies? What are you, twelve?”
“It’s a thing us kids used to say. Guess it stuck,” he says with a shrug.
“You’re so cute,” I tease.
“Would rather you think I’m hot, sexy, and impossible to resist.” He waggles his eyebrows, and I giggle. Seriously cute . . . and dangerous
“You’re those, too. In fact, when I clocked you at Throb that first night I thought all of those things.”
He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I thought you were the sexiest woman I’d ever seen.” His voice drops low, that same raspy tone he gets when he’s deep inside me and telling me—in graphic detail—all the things he wants to do to me. My gaze drops to his lips and I find myself no longer hungry, at least not for food.
“Stop looking at me like you’re thirsty and I’m a glass of water.”
“I’ve got a drink right here,” I retort smugly, picking up my glass of the wine Cade ordered as soon as we arrived and bringing it up to my mouth for a sip.
“That won’t sate what you’re craving. It won’t quench the thirst; you need to be—”
“Wet. You’ve already succeeded in that department,” I mutter.
Cade groans and bites his lip, his fingers raking through his hair and his dark eyes dropping to my chest. “You’re not helping my self-control here. We’re supposed to be having dinner in public, with clothes on, and talking.”
“We’re talking, aren’t we?”
“And my cock will drill its way through the table if you keep thinking those thoughts.”
It’s then—thank God—that the waiter arrives with our starters.
“So tell me about yourself,” Cade says once we’d finish eating, making me burst out laughing.
“What’s this? The fake girlfriend interview?”
“No,” he says with a wry grin. “It’s me getting to know the beautiful woman I’m having dinner