Page 21 of Only the Wicked
“Parker,” she says quietly over the rim of her glass. “Sydney Parker.”
“Does anyone ever call you Syd?”
Syd and sex. Yes, both my heads are going there.
“My parents. Close friends.” She smooths a finger over the crisp white tablecloth. “And your last name?”
“MacMillan. Rhodes MacMillan.”
“Anyone ever call you Mac?”
I stifle a laugh. “Never. Do I look like a Mac?”
She shrugs. “It’s a sports thing. And MacMillan is a mouthful.”
“Well, I tell you what, when it’s just the two of us, if you need to shorten my name to Mac, I’ll allow it.”
I feel her inhale in my tightening chest. Feel her swallow in my groin. I’m damn fucking positive cum leaks from my tip.
She pats the table the way one would pat a dog and slides out of the booth.
“I need the restroom,” she whispers with a demureness that contradicts her earlier dirty innuendo.
She grabs her purse, hips swaying all the way to the restroom. The sundress she’s wearing falls loosely over her ass cheeks, the fabric flirting with her curves. The cropped cardigan I purchased ends just above the small of her back, highlighting the seductive motion of her hips.
Yes, I want her.
Chapter
Seven
Rhodes
Subtle shifts in the restaurant crowd reflect the late evening hour. A crowd of five or six gathers before the hostess stand. Staff hurry to bus tables. My glass is half empty. Syd’s still in the restroom. I check my wrist. Five minutes.
Is there a line? No, no one else has come or gone from the hallway.
Did she escape through a back door?
Calm yourself down.
She’s into this. Undeniable chemistry buzzed between us through dinner. She prompted sexual innuendo.
I pull out my phone.
I shouldn’t. It’s an addiction.
Although, with Sydney sitting across from me, the urge to check it didn’t strike. Highly unusual.
Not really, though. I want sex.
She’s been gone for five minutes and I’m still hard. Not painfully so, but there’s no doubt I’m aroused by her, by the thought of getting her out of that dress, teasing her nipples, discovering exactly where she craves touch.
I hold the phone to my mouth while keeping a watchful eye on the hallway entrance Sydney entered.
“Find out everything you can on Sydney Parker, born in Chicago. Current Washington D.C. resident.”
I squint to see if voice diction got it right and hit send.
