Page 99 of Root

“Maybe it’s a reaction to you.”

I want to push my hand under her short skirt, see if she’s wearing panties or not. If she is wearing them, I wanna know if they’re more of those filthy no crotch ones. I don’t know why she’d have more slutty panties like that—I stole her other pair—but a man can dream.

Fuck it, I’ll buy her an assortment.

I remove her hand, bring it to my lips, and kiss her fingers before putting her hand on the table as I eat the rest of her beyond delicious mushroom. It’s like a steak, Lion’s Mane mushroom, I think, grown on the premises and then brushed in butter and roasted and then seared. Served with a mushroom jus and greens. I’m fine with her eating my rare steak.

“Why were you upset?”

She flashes me a look and puts a big bite in her mouth.

I know the tactic, so I sit back, drink my bourbon and wait.

As soon as she swallows, I bring my hand down on hers, stopping her from getting another mouthful. “Earlier?” I prod.

“Does it matter?”

It does. Very much, but beyond what she said, claimed, I’m not getting more from her tonight.

“I just care.”

“You’re full of shit. And I told you, Bunny’s.”

The lie is bright, obvious, and if she didn’t lie about Bunny’s calling, she’s misdirecting because she was upset before the call.

The glitter of tears and her angry swipe of them while she texted, not knowing I stood there, tells me so.

But I ease off, and I keep the evening flirty, fun, and myself in my Good Rush mode. The one I know Nikolai wants me to wear more often.

When we leave, I turn to her, tucking her hand in my arm. “Where do you want to go?”

“Look at me,” she says. “A good, nasty dive bar.”

“Oh, I’m looking and trying not to maul you.” I lead her to our car, the motor purring, and lean her into it as I lean into her. “Look at my expensive Brioni suit. Do you know how much it cost?”

“Three hundred dollars.”

“Rhetorical question,” I say kissing her throat, right where her pulse throbs. “Try a three and a lot of zeros.”

It was about thirty k, a bargain for bespoke, but one of Nikolai’s Italian gangster buddies got me a deal.

“You were ripped off,” she says.

“I really wasn’t. So, me in this suit, we go high end.”

She trails a hand down my tie and unbuttons the single-breasted jacket, her fingers smoothing over the waistcoat to the top button of my pants.

Fuck, I’m hard.

“A dive could have merits.”

“I have merits, Jessie. We go high end.” I want to see if the rough dudes who are hanging about and sticking out in this part of town, follow. “I know a great bar.”

“Dark jazz bar,” she says.

“I’m not into jazz. How about trendy?”

“How about I put on a strap-on and claim your ass?”

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