As time passed and she kept wondering when he was going to get on with it already, she also noticed he could be a real charmer when he wanted to be. Their waitress already seemed to be in love. They might have a hard time getting rid of her long enough to…
That was probably just the way he wanted it. Upped the danger factor, didn’t it?
Her fettuccine Alfredo came, and she attacked it. She’d assuage the lust thumping through her veins with food. He laughed at her, commenting how he loved a woman who could eat. She fed him some from her fork, and he fed her a shrimp from his fingers, letting the tips linger on her lips until she flickered her tongue against them. His eyes closed.
“Damn, woman,” he breathed.
“I want you.” His eyes opened again at her declaration. His hand dropped beneath the fall of the tablecloth, and his fingers slid deftly under her skirt, bunching it up her thigh. In no time, he was tracing the edge of her panties.
“Here? Is this where you want me?” His fingertip just flickered over her clit, barred by the thin cotton panel.
She nodded and fused her mouth hotly to his. The little waitress was probably going to reappear any minute. Macy didn’t much give a damn.
“Oh, hey,” he said suddenly, breaking away from her mouth. “I almost forgot.” She nearly screamed when he withdrew his hand from between her legs, but her aggravation turned into confusion as he reached into the pocket of his black leather jacket. Whatever he brought out was hidden in his balled-up fist. “Hold out your hand.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just do it.”
“Oh my God, Seth, if you’re going to put something totally embarrassing in my hand—”
“Shh. Do it.”
“But you—”
“Macy. Shut up. Do it.”
She rolled her eyes and tried to glare at him, though she doubted it looked very convincing since she couldn’t even begin to force her lips into a frown. “I didn’t exactly mean I wanted to give away my autonomy when I told you—”
He leaned closer, so she could feel his warm breath across her lips, smell the wine on his breath. “Do you want me to touch you again? Do it.”
Panting gently, trembling violently, she lifted her hand palm up with all the eagerness of someone about to receive a hand grenade. He kissed her, just a light brushing of his lips back and forth across hers, as he slid his fist across her palm, opened it and left behind the mystery item. The scratch of lace told her exactly what it was. She broke away and snatched her hand under the table with a gasp.
“Seth!”
“You asked for them back.”
“Not in the middle of a freaking restaurant.” Glancing down and seeing the flash of red between her fingers confirmed it: he’d given her back her Valentine’s Day panties.
“We’re not in the middle. Here’s as good as anywhere.”
“Really.” She reached for her purse to put them away, but he caught her hand and shook his head.
“I want you to change into them.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“What?” He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I washed them.”
“But…”
“Come on, killjoy.” He cast a glance back over his shoulder and then slid her hair back from her neck, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “I want to think about them covering that sweet, wet, hot, f**king amazing pu**y of yours. When I strip you later, those are what I want to see.”
She shivered despite herself. “You’re so obsessed with my underwear, are you sure you don’t want to wear them?”
He stilled and silence hung for a moment. For one terrible instant, she thought she’d made him angry. No chance. “Who’s to say I didn’t?”
She couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing. “You are awful.”
“And you like it. Admit it.”
“And you’re pushy. And presumptuous.”
“No. I’ve just got your number, babe.”
“Really.”
“I saw you, you know, that very first day you came into the parlor with Candace. All prim and proper, looking like your outfit cost more than my entire wardrobe. Also looking like you were ready to bolt for the door any minute. But you didn’t, and we were being offensive as all hell, and I saw you trying not to crack a smile. Mostly failing at it.”
She remembered too. She remembered watching him when he wasn’t watching her. He’d asked her if she needed anything, a drink or whatever, and she’d jolted like being hit with a live wire, quickly shaking her head and going back to her ebook while she waited for Candace to finish getting her first tattoo from Brian. Everyone had probably thought she was the biggest stuck-up bitch to ever walk in the place.
“I just… I was worried about her.”
“Yeah? And yourself? Did you think one of us was going to tackle you and tattoo you against your will?”
“Of course not.”
“Are you mother hen to everyone, or just Candace?”
It was too truthful an observation for her to take any offense. “I guess I can be that way with everyone, but Candace was really sheltered. I mean really. I thought she was making a huge mistake, and it was probably the first time she refused to listen to me.”
“If she was so sheltered, I can’t really get why you would try to perpetuate that.”
“It just freaked me out a little.”
“Did I freak you out a little?”
She looked him in the eye. “Yes.”
“Do I still?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Let me know if I ever stop; I’ll have to think up something new.” Just as he was leaning in to kiss her again, the waitress showed up, and he backed off, facing forward as Macy tried to catch her breath. His nearness had a way of stealing it from her.
The waitress collected their empty glasses and smirked a little as she began to turn away. “Sorry. Carry on.”
Heat rose in Macy’s cheeks. He glanced sideways and winked at her. Clearing her throat, she dared raise her hand above the table, the one still holding her panties in a naughty little pile of silk and lace. “So what about these?”
His dark gaze followed hers down to them. “Go to the ladies’ room and put them on.” The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Though I have no objection to you putting them on here.”
“I don’t think I’m that brazen yet.”
“We’ll have to work on that too, won’t we?”
Chapter Thirteen
If someone had told her at any point before tonight that she would change her panties in a restaurant bathroom just to please a man, she’d have laughed herself stupid. Granted, she didn’t get through the process without a little grin she couldn’t quite wipe off her face. As she slid them up over her thighs and into place, visions of him sliding them off in the cramped confines of his backseat flashed through her mind, heating her flesh down there almost as if it were his fingers touching her. She had to lean against the door of the stall and try to calm her ragged pulse.
After all this fuss over them, if he ended up breaking her heart, she’d have to burn the damn things.
No thoughts of that now, though. They were still just having a good time, right? No hearts had been exchanged, and it would be a long, long time before they would be, if ever.