“I told you once, I don’t play games. I want you, Charlize, and I’ve only just begun to have you. The sooner you figure that out and stop fighting me, the sooner you can just enjoy it.”
Her back remained straight and she managed not to lean against him. “It’s a bad idea, Connor. I’m not the girl you want, at least not long-term.” She forced her head to turn, forced herself to look him in the eye. “Aside from an obvious appreciation for my ass, I’m not even sure why you want me at all.”
His jaw and his gaze softened then he leaned in, put his mouth right next to her ear. “Is that it, baby? You’re feeling insecure, need me to say some sweet shit to make you feel better?” His hand moved under the table to her thigh, ran the length of her knee to her groin, made responding to his question impossible. “Fine, but I can’t promise I’ll be good at it,” he whispered.
He cupped her, his thumb pressing through her jeans in exactly the right place. She gasped, sucking in a mouthful of air that tasted of the peppery steam rising from her plate.
“Yeah I like more than your ass. I like the way you never give up, the way you never give in.” His thumb moved, pushed the thick, hard seam stitched into the denim between her legs. Using firm, shallow movements, he massaged her, taunting her aching clit. “Except when it comes to this—when it comes to this you give me everything.”
Her breath hitched. She heard the words and they melted her insides. But it was his fingers that commanded her.
“But most of all, I like how you always try so damn hard.”
Need crawled through her body like the hunger of an addict, bringing a sheen to her skin. Her hazy gaze flicked across the room. They were sheltered in this corner, his actions concealed by the table and its white cloth covering, but even so there was no hiding the intimacy of their bodies, of his whispered words in her ear.
“Connor,” she said and clamped her hand over the one between her legs.
She turned to him, her cheek scraped against the bristles on his chin. They were chin to chin, eye to eye, lips to lips. His breath tingled her mouth, rushing faster than usual. His half-closed eyes blazed at her, fascinated her with the flecks of gray and blue that merged to create the most extraordinarily deep shade.
“Pick up your knife and fork,” he said and moved his arm from around her.
The moment broke and a sense of loss swept over her skin where his hands had been. She took a shaky breath and reached for her cutlery, slid her plate back in front of her. Rich sauce oozed over a huge chunk of meat on her plate. Her stomach gurgled, signaled hunger, but her body craved another kind of fulfillment.
“Eat,” he commanded.
She sank her fork into the steak, the part of her that would normally turn the utensil on him for being so bossy too distracted to put up a fight. She sawed through the meat with her knife then brought a small piece to her lips. The steak tasted of smoke, pepper and heat. She wasn’t sure if it was extra juicy, if she was hungrier than she’d realized—or if her senses were heightened, making the flavors more intense, but a hum rose in the back of her throat. She chewed slowly, savoring the taste, and her eyelids drifted closed. Sitting next to Connor, she felt as if the simple act of eating had turned into a sensual experience, as if she was doing something dirty in public.
He picked up a fry and took a bite, watching her and not touching his own cutlery. A heavy hand reached between her thighs. Her knife slipped, making a grinding noise on the ceramic plate. That hand made its way to the button at the center of her waist and flicked it open. Her hands froze, her stomach muscles clenched.
“Keep eating. No one knows but me.”
She rubbed her steak-juice-coated lips together and cut another slice of meat. Her zipper slid down and he pushed deep into her panties, thick digits going straight for her clit. Her hips twitched, pleasure streaked into her womb. His fingers moved between her shamefully wet folds. She cut the piece of meat in half, not confident in her ability to chew, and placed a bite on her tongue. He moved harder—directly—not teasing, not playing… He meant business, sought instant results.
Connor finished the fry in his free hand and sucked the salt off his thumb. Tension coiled in her sex and a moan escaped her. His fingers swirled firmly, rhythmically against her.
“Sounds like that’s a good steak. Is it a good steak, baby?”
Charlize panted and looked back at the plate. His fingers slowed, as if he was waiting for her answer.
“Yes, yes it’s good.”
“Give me some,” he said and began rubbing her again.
Her head swirled and she glanced at him.