Page 104 of One Spicy Summer

Her eyes narrow. “Still choosing violence, huh?”

“Absolutely. Where’s the fun in playing nice?”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, pretending she’s unaffected. “Can we order? I’m starving.”

I take a sip of my water, slow and lazy. “Keep acting bratty, Presley. Iloveit. The reward will be twice as dirty for the both of us.”

We order.

We talk.

She tells me about her therapy, her dreams, her stupid plans to get a job instead of letting me take care of her.

It’s the sound of her voice that keeps me grounded. Her laughter keeps me breathing. Just when she’s deep into talking about a movie night with Agatha, my phone buzzes.

Rafe.

Fucking perfect timing.

I answer, keeping my voice clipped and professional for Presley’s sake. “Garrison.”

“What the hell, dude? I know your last name.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m on a dinner date. Make it quick.”

His voice turns gleeful. “Ooooooh. Dinner with Presley?”

“Yes.” I grit my teeth. “Now, what do you have?”

“Found where Keifer might be hiding.” My pulse spikes, but I force myself to stay calm. Stay cool. Presley’s watching me like a hawk. “Good news. We’ll discuss it later. Enjoy your evening.”

I hang up before he can say anything else.

Presley blinks at me, curious. “Client?”

“Client,” I lie smoothly. “New truck stop. Across from Chuck Wagsport’s.”

She nods thoughtfully. Then, smirking: “Kinda late for business calls, don’t you think?”

I lean forward, my voice pure sin. “You’re worrying about the wrong thing, baby.” I let my gaze trail hotly down her body, slow and deliberate. “What youshouldbe worrying about is how I’mgoing to fuck that smart mouth, that tight pussy, and that perfect ass tonight until you can’t even remember your own name.”

Her mouth drops open, her whole body shuddering. “Handle you?” she whispers.

I laugh, low and dark. “Hellion, you’llneverhandle me. I’ll be the one handling you... all night long.”

The waitress returns with our food, and Presley barely moves, her cheeks pink, her body practically vibrating with tension.

“Eat,” I command, my voice leaving no room for argument.

She obeys, but not before giving me a look so smoldering it nearly sets the table on fire.

Watching her savor every bite, moaning softly, licking her lips, it’s pure fucking torture.

“Presley,” I growl, my voice rough and hungry. “You keep moaning like that, you won’t make it through dinner.”

She giggles, sly and wicked. “Won’t make it through dinner? Don’t you meanwewon’t?”

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

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