Page 32 of Haunt the Mall

My mouth watered. I smiled and slipped my hands under my legs. It was too early to touch him.

“The previews haven’t started,” I said.

He shrugged and splayed his knees. “This isn’t an official showing.”

“Right, you said this was a private showing. Just for us.” I squeezed my thighs together.

He nodded. “It’ll start soon.” His slow-blink pricked the air with electricity and stirred my insides with longing.

I grazed my toes up his shin. He smiled and widened his stance to press more firmly against me. The lights dimmed and a million candle-wick-esque lights kissed the edge of the stairs. In so many ways, it felt like we’d already started something.

What was the point in pleasantries?

I laid a hand on his knee and leaned across the seat divide. Seduce me.

The tender tips of his fingers grazed my jaw, but just as I tilted my head, a couple of human-shaped shadows slicked up through the darkness—heading straight for us.

I gasped and shot back in the chair. “I thought you said this was a private showing.”

He bolted upright and fussed with his collar. “It is. These are my minions—er, coworkers.”

They almost crashed an X-rated scene. I clutched my cross, my heartbeat thumping underneath. “I didn’t even hear them come in.”

“My apologies. I forgot to mention, the food is scheduled to arrive as soon as the lights go down.” He drummed his fingers on the far armrest and watched them with hawk-like intensity. “I’m sure we won’t have any more interruptions.”

Was that a threat to them or a promise to me? Either way, the timbre of his voice sprung goosebumps across my skin. His cohorts placed black food containers and red cups at our stations.

“Thanks,” I told them.

The one at my chair slowed to look at my breasts, his eyes wide in the dark. I crossed my arms. Yeah, I wore a dress that accentuated some cleavage, but that was for Victor. My date lowered his shoulder and leaned like some apex predator preparing to pounce. The ‘minion’ started and scurried back into the dark. Something about his jerky movements reminded me of the squirrely guy from concessions. Maybe it was him. Regardless, I let out a breath when the door clicked closed. Victor and I were alone again.

He popped open one of the containers. “May I present your dinner?”

“Dinner?” I wanted to eat him.

But then the scent of buttery, salty bread hit. Our appetizer glowed with oily temptation.

Well, shit. If we had warm pretzel bites, I guessed warm bodies could wait a few minutes.

I dipped one of the fat bread rolls into liquid cheese and took a bite.

Heaven. I moaned and licked my lips. This was indulgent, carby magnificence.

Victor stared at me, still holding out the tray.

Why was he so intense?

“Sorry, did I get some on my face?” I chuckled and covered my mouth.

“No.” His voice came out husky.

Oh, was he turned on? I squeezed the dough and briefly licked its salty skin. “Just savoring the moment?”

“Indeed.” He inhaled and rolled a pretzel into his palm. His fingers flexed as he turned his gaze to the screen.

Was he going to eat? Or was he saving room for me?

His jaw ticked. Maybe he was nervous…or miffed I’d stolen his thing by flirting via food. Guys could be so weird about stuff, like one quirk was their whole personality.

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