I swallow and open the drawer. My words are caught in my throat, but I get the feeling that he doesn’t want me to talk. He just wants me to do.
The bed creaks as I perch on the end of it and roll the silky stockings up my legs.
“Good girl. Leave your hair down. You have two minutes to get some shoes on and meet me outside.”
The line cuts out with those words, and my eyes widen. Two minutes?
“Way to give a girl some warning, asshole,” I mutter, simultaneously brushing my hair and sliding my feet into some heels.
I run another layer of pink gloss across my lips, and after double-checking that my MIA cat has food in his bowl, I lock the apartment. Damn cat has been out somewhere for three days, probably humping a bunch of lady-cats in a desperate attempt for baby Anguses. Unfortunately for him, his balls are as MIA as he is right now.
Tyler’s Mercedes is out in front of the building, the engine purring quietly in the waning light. He leans over and opens the door for me. As I slide onto the passenger’s seat, he shoots me a panty-wetting smile.
Oh yeah. He means business tonight.
He reaches over and runs his hand up the inside of my thigh. His fingers tease the material of my dress until it’s at my hip and the string of my thong is visible.
“Right on time and dressed perfectly.” He runs his thumb along the skin between my hips. My breath catches when he dips it down between my legs and presses it against my clit.
The simple action sends a jolt through my body, and I grab his wrist. Tyler covers my hand with his own, pries my fingers from him, and links our fingers. He brings our clasped hands to the side of my neck and leans toward me, pulling me to him at the same time, and closes the distance between us.
He nibbles my bottom lip, nipping and sucking alternatively, each gentle motion making me ache beneath his hand still firmly wedged between my legs.
At my neck, he curls his fingers around me, drawing me closer. At my pussy, he rubs my clit in tiny, gentle circles, contributing to the light throb there. My stomach muscles tighten and I gasp, pulling away.
“Tyler, we can’t—”
With a forceful shove, he pulls my face to his and silences me. He pushes harder at my clit, and with the steadiness of his grip on the back of my head, I’m trapped. I’m encased in his hold, unable to do anything but surrender to what he’s doing to me on the side of the street.
Anyone could look into his car and know exactly what he’s doing. If the jerking of his arm as he rubs me wouldn’t give it away, the fact that my dress is up would. But as a wave of heat overcomes me, I realize I don’t care.
I’m about to fall apart in downtown Seattle, where anyone could see us, but all I can do is grab Tyler and grind my hips against his hand.
It’s quick and intense, the peak of the orgasm coming with a long, drawn-out moan from me.
“Shit. I love that sound,” he murmurs against me. He dips his thumb beneath my panties and coats it in my wetness. Bringing his hand up, he rubs it along my lips.
I open my eyes and, in one quick motion, suck his thumb into my mouth, tasting myself on him.
His pupils dilate, his eyes flaring with lust, and his fingers grip me. “Liv, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll let my thumb go.”
I suck hard.
“I can fuck you here. I don’t particularly care, but I think it would be rather obvious.”
“And that just wasn’t?” I ask, releasing his thumb so I can talk.
He trails it down my neck and settles it between my breasts. “If you think that was obvious, you haven’t had nearly enough sex in public.”
He puts his foot down on the accelerator, finally driving away, and I settle back into my chair.
“It sounds like you have plenty of experience.” There’s that irrational jealously streak again. Damn. Can’t someone tell her that she isn’t welcome?
He settles his hand on my thigh again. “I, too, haven’t had nearly enough sex in public. I’m not exactly an exhibitionist.”
“Right. So the florist wasn’t public?”
He smirks at me. “Semipublic.”
“Or the boat in Paris?”
“Neither of them was actually sex—like this. But that’s beside the point. I don’t plan to do these things to you. I just can’t help myself.”
“That’s the excuse a toddler gives when they’ve raided the cookie jar.” I roll my eyes. “Besides, I thought it was dinner before orgasm?”
“It is.” He looks at me at the intersection, deadly serious. “That was your starter.”
He eyes me across the table. Dark and brooding, his gaze roams over my face, touching every part of it, until it drops and rests against my chest for a long minute. Heat flushes up my body with the intensity of his stare. It’s almost as if he’s stripping me bare in his mind, and the twitch in his fingers makes me think he’s imagining every way he could touch me.
“You’re blushing,” he whispers, leaning forward.
His words break the spell, and the conversations from the tables around us filter back into my world.
“No, I’m not.” I cut into my salmon.
“Yes, you are.” He curls his fingers around the stem of his wine glass, the long, flexing motion drawing my eyes there.
“It must be the lighting.” I lift the fork to my mouth and seal my mouth around the fish.
His eyes drop to my mouth, and he stills as I slowly withdraw the fork from between my lips.
“The lighting,” he muses, his eyes never moving, “seems fine to me.”
“It’s all perception.” I set my cutlery down and pat my mouth with my napkin. Tyler’s eyes travel up my face to find mine again. “Don’t you think?”
“Perception. It’s a funny thing, that.” He sits back in his chair. “But I agree. After all, I’m sure we both have different perceptions of how public my balcony is.”
I’m still aching from both my earlier orgasm and the promise of more, and his words do nothing to help that anticipation.
“I’ve never been on it. I can’t say.”
“Something you’ll remedy tonight. I’m sure you’ll be happy to offer me your opinion then.”
This over-polite conversation is driving me crazy, but at the same time, I can’t get enough. Every sentence is flirty without being obvious, every word building a tight tension that coils in my stomach.
“I’d be more than happy to.” I take a sip from my wine. “Do your neighbors have balconies?”