Page 137 of Your Last First Kiss
“But what if he needs a push?”
He shrugs and licks his lips, and all thoughts leave my head.
“Penny?” he rasps, then moves his hand to my thigh. Very high on my thigh. When he flexes his middle finger, he brushes against my clit. To anyone watching, it seems like he’s innocently resting his hand on my thigh.
But he’s not. He is definitely not.
“Huh?”
His low chuckle vibrates against my arm.
“Do you want to spend our night alone talking about Miller’s love life, or do you want to spend it talking about what I’m going to do to you? In explicit detail. While you eat whatever the hell you want.”
“Oh, God.” I swallow and squeak simultaneously. “Um, option two, please.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” His tone has gone low and gravelly and so sexy a whimper tries to escape me. “You know what my rule is.” He raises one eyebrow, and my mouth goes so dry you’d think someone stuffed me with cotton balls.
I reach for my glass of water with shaky hands. His finger presses harder against me.
“Dillon,” I hiss after I drink like a dehydrated marathon runner. “You have to move your hand.”
His grin grows slowly until it practically reaches ear to ear. But it’s the way his eyes seem to glow when he’s like this that makes me squirm in my chair.
“Do you want me to move it because you’re close to coming and worried about what people will say?”
Flick.
Flick.
Oh no.
“Or do you want me to move it because you don’t like it there?”
“I do. I do like it, but…”
Flick.
Flick.
Flick.
My stomach clenches with need.
“You know what I want to hear,” he rumbles near my ear. He leaves his head there like he’s telling me a secret, but all he’s doing is breathing on my neck.
How is that so hot? How is his freaking breath making me even hornier?
Flick.
Flick.
“D—Dillon,” I pant. My sight has gone a little hazy, but as I scan the restaurant through the sliver of an opening, I don’t find a single person watching us.
“The tablecloth covers the table on the other side. They can’t see anything but me whispering in your ear. Tell me what I want to hear.”
“I want to talk about what you’ll do to me,” I say in a rush that expels my breath like a yoga exercise.
“That’s my girl,” he growls.
