Page 14 of Becoming the Owners
Shit. What the fuck had I gotten myself into?
****
“This is a fucking mess. What the fuck have you done, moron?” Looking into the mirror as I asked the question for the third time didn’t help me get any information from the idiot frowning back at me. “A date? With someone from the fucking club?”
God.
What had I been thinking?
With my dick.
Obviously.
He was an idiot who liked attention more than I did.
Frowning down at my still-naked dick, I glared at it. “Are you satisfied? This is what you got us into. A fucking date.”
And a bet.
But I’d been ignoring that for the past two days.
A fucking date and a stupid bet and some kind of submission.
“God, Ben’s as big an idiot as I am.” This wasn’t going to work. “He’s lost his ever-loving mind.”
Unfortunately, Niko had said he wasn’t a serial killer and was actually trying to open a BDSM club…and worse…Niko thought we were cute together.
Cute.
God-fucking-dammit.
“Okay, the only thing worse than going on a date is going and being late. Clothes, fucker.” Marching out of the bathroom, and wishing I had heels on to make the right statement, I went over to my closet.
Ignoring the half that was filled with jeans and boring shit, I focused on the fun stuff and the weird mix in the middle that could go either way. “Dinner. Traditional boring date. Weird shit.”
God, I had to be ready for anything.
“Start with the basics. He doesn’t expect boring or he wouldn’t have wanted to date me. He’s never seen me boring, so he won’t assume I’ll show up in a three-piece suit.” I sounded ridiculous, but the logic felt right as I grabbed a pair of tiny briefs out of the drawer that had my sexy goodies in it. “Alright, not too flashy but sexy. Subtle but with a bit of fabulous.”
Sliding on a pair of straight-legged black slacks that were long enough for cute heels, I loved the almost silky fabric of the technically women’s pants. “And something touchably soft on top to tempt him into breaking hisno feeling up the birdie on the first daterule.”
The sweater I slipped on looked masculine enough that no one would question it, but it hugged in all the right places and gave the illusion of curves that I knew would make his hands itch to caress over it.
“And a bit of height to make sure he can stare at my ass perfectly.” I refused to question why I was trying to tempt the insane man when he’d said he wasn’t going to touch me yet. Logic had long since left the building.
So that meant I didn’t have to worry about anything reasonable.
Yep, no worrying here.
No questioning anything either.
“It’s just a date.” And conversation. And submission.
Fuck.
“It’s just a date.” Repeating that the entire drive over to the restaurant didn’t make it any more believable, but it kept my brain from wondering about anything else, which was probably a good thing.
Everything kind of fell apart when he was actually leaning against his car, a sporty little black number that matched his energy perfectly, in the back of the parking lot.
