Page 10 of Lie With Me

There. It’s only ahalf-lie.

“I thought your answer was going to be an aspiring actress. The performance you gave was quite award-worthy.”

He orders us both a glass of fifty-dollar Chardonnay with a French name I barely catch as they bring out a crab dish. I’ve never had a tasting dinner before.

It’s not enough food and seems like it’s going to be too much wine.

Ken must be used to mousey eaters. Meanwhile, I’m ready to tackle the passing server that’s bringing someone a steak.

“You seemed really uncomfortable when I came out of the dressing room. I couldn’t see your face, but your body language said enough. I just did the first thing that I could think of.”

Gratitude shines through his gaze. “What would you have done if she’d known that I wasn’t really engaged?”

With a slight shrug, I sample the new wine and stare down at my plate as I savor the tingle of peach on the tip of my tongue. “Probably would havehightailed it outta there in embarrassment. Saved you a couple grand.”

It could be my imagination, but I swear his foot keeps nudging mine under the table. Boldly, I cross my legs, dragging the tip of my thrifted Jimmy Choo stiletto up his leg. They’re worn and tattered, with the fabric ripping on the toe and along the side. The only way they look halfway decent is because I use a black Sharpie on them. I hope that the marker, paired with the slush outside, doesn’t leave ink stains on his pants.

With a devilish grin, his hand disappears beneath the table and wraps around my ankle. Just the simple touch of his fingers on my flesh ignites a burst of tingles in my spine that shoot straight to my core. Warmth floods my body as he settles my foot in his lap and begins to stroke my skin with his thumb.

“Well, I can confidently say I’m glad that isn’t the case.” His hand moves higher, and my eyes dart around the room to see if anyone is watching. All it would take is for someone to glance over and realize where exactly my foot is.

My nipples harden as the toe of my shoe nudges his erection—or rather, his erection springs to life, nudging the toe of my shoe.

“Something tells me you’re more than worth it, Bianca.” He lifts my leg and gently lowers it back under the table as our next course is placed in front of us.

His voice is rich and sensual, and I almost open my mouth to tell him my real name, if only to hearhim say it. He could be talking about potato chips, and I’d still find it sexy.

By the time I finish my fourth glass of wine, and a pumpkin dessert that literally tastes like heaven, my mind is made up, and I text my boss that I won’t be making it to work.

Ken helps me into my peacoat, and before I can pull my hair out of the collar, he’s doing it for me. Whether he’s trying to be discreet or not, I have no idea, but it doesn’t escape me that he breathes in deep as he does it, like he’s trying to burn my scent into his memory.

Every nerve ending in my body is on fire. The cool, slow lick of heat that starts at the tips of your toes and curls around the most intimate places. I don’t remember a time when I’ve ever been so turned on by a man simplyexisting.

When we reach the sidewalk, I go to hail a cab with the intention of asking if he wants to take me home. But before I can so much as lift my hand, his is around my waist, guiding me to a black town car that’s idling on the curb.

“What’s this?” I ask as he opens the back door.

“My driver can take you wherever you need to go. A dress like that doesn’t belong in a cab,” he says with a smooth smile and a tone that suggests he’d rather we spend the night together. His body is tight with a tension so thick I can feel it radiating off him.

He doesn’t want the night to end, even if he’s giving me his car service.

If there is one thing I’m good at, it’s reading men. And this one wants me flat on my back.

Surprisingly, I want the same thing—even though I usually don’t sleep with men outside the club.

“What’s your address?” he asks softly, almost regretfully, like he’s trying to decide whether or not he should just invite me home. The hand that’s still on my waist feels heavy, like he doesn’t want to let me go.

He searches my eyes, looking for a sign, meaning he’s respectful enough not to force himself on me, letting me make the decision.

Giving me the green light.

Closing the distance between us, I move into him, pressing my chest against his and lifting my hand to the back of his neck. Heat fills his eyes, and he immediately pulls me closer as I lean up to kiss him.

Ken meets my lips with a passion I haven’t experienced…ever. Our kiss is intense right from the start. Open-mouthed, tongues tasting each other as he pulls me impossibly closer, as if he’s trying to absorb my body into his. It’s the kind of kiss you do in the privacy of a bedroom—or a bar if you’re really,really, shit-faced.

Not the sidewalk where random people are subjected to your mouth porn.

When we finally pull back to breathe, I ask suggestively, “What’syouraddress?”

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