Her lips pulled into an easy grin, amused to find my slight fetish still alive and well after all this time. “Maybe.”
I shouldn’t do this.
Not until we’ve talked. Not until I told her. But…
“Tell me,” I demanded.
Carmen glanced around the restaurant, her voice a sultry whisper when she finally said, “A thong. And it’s red.”
My chest tightened painfully.
Fuck. This woman was going to be the death of me.
I sat back, dragging a hand down my face, trying to pull it together because the things I wanted to do to her right now would get us kicked out of this very nice, very expensive restaurant.
But the look she gave me—open, trusting, and knowing exactly what kind of fire she was playing with—snapped whatever self-control I had left.
And right then, all I wanted was to feel her.
Under the table, I slid my hand onto the bare knee that the slit in the dress exposed, inching up, feeling the heat of her skin. She stiffened slightly, but her thighs parted just enough to tell me she didn’t mind.
My fingertips grazed higher until they found the edge of lace, and she sucked in a quiet breath.
Her voice wobbled as she reached for my forearm.
“Theo…”
My thumb circled the center of her wetness, and I leaned closer, my voice low, meant only for her. “What, my love?”
Her eyes darkened, her breathing shallow, and I knew if I pushed just a little more, she’d be completely undone right there at the table.
But before I could slip my fingers where we both wanted them, her phone lit up on the table, buzzing insistently against the white linen.
Carmen flinched like she’d been shot, dragging her gaze away from mine.
She glanced at the screen, and immediately, her whole vibe shifted. The glow disappeared, but I didn’t need to see the screen to know exactly who it was.
Still, she turned it toward me, almost guilty. My jaw clenched hard enough to ache.
She bit her lip, hesitating.
“I should answer it… Excuse me,” she said softly.
I leaned back in my seat, letting my hand fall away from her thigh, my whole body thrumming with frustration.
“Yeah,” I said, voice clipped. “Go ahead.”
Carmen glanced at me, almost wincing, then slid out of the booth with the phone pressed to her ear, weaving between tables toward the front of the restaurant.
I watched her go, my hands fists in my lap.
She left the table to take the call outside, and I couldn’t help but wonder:Why would she have to leave me to take that call?
She was gone for ten minutes, and I signaled for the check.
When I got to the exit, I called for our car. Carmen was still standing by the corner, her back to the entrance. She didn’t notice me, so I took a few steps closer, trying to hear what was so damn important that she couldn’t talk about it in front of me.
“Of course, I’m having fun,” she said casually.
