Page 18 of The Southern Submission

Annoying Payton: I’m not wearing panties,and I sure hope you aren’t.

Me: Fuck you.

Annoying Payton: Nice choice of words. Want to explore that later?

I ignore his text as heat simmers in my veins and throbs low in my body. That man is all sex, all the time, and it’s getting me worked up more than I care to admit.

Ten

Payton

Ainsley storms out of her building wearing cut-off white shorts that do wonders for her long, tan legs, and a blue button-down shirt that looks like a perfect match for my eyes. How sweet of her.

Her head whips from side to side, scanning the street. She’s wearing the same pink baseball hat from yesterday, but her blonde hair is down, falling below her shoulders, so it blows around her in the warm breeze as she looks for me. She frowns, pulling her phone out of the back pocket of those shorts that highlight her perfect little bubble of an ass that has me biting my lip as I stare.

Muffin:Where the fuck are you, Mr. Insists On Dictating My Day But Doesn’t Make It Apparent Where He Is?

I give her a minute to stew before I text back.

Me: Blue Maserati MC20. Behind you.

She reads the text and spins around, finally catching sight of me as I wave a hand out the open top of the sports car. She walks down the block to my car and fumbles with the door handle, not sure how to work it. She makes a frustrated noise and glares at me through the top.

“How do I get into this expensive toy, you stupid asshole?”

I laugh, flipping my navy baseball cap backward, leaning over the small space to pull the handle and activate the butterfly door for her. She steps back as it rises at an angle in front of her instead of toward the curb as expected.

“Careful. Remember what I said about your mean words and what they do to me, Spitfire. Now get in here so we can get going. Atlanta is fucking hot and I want to jump into a warm lake with you.”

She slides her hazel eyes from studying the door to drinking me in, and for a moment, they don’t contain the murderous expression I expect but hold lust, and I smile in welcome to that change. Caught not being prickly, she quickly narrows her gaze and slips into the low car. She’s maybe five-foot-three, little enough to fit in my small Italian sports car like a sun-kissed dream. She’s fun-sized, and I’m more than ready to have fun with her.

The sunlight glints off her golden legs, drawing my attention to the smooth expanse of skin my hands itch to roam over. I mutter a curse under my breath and look away as she fumbles with the door to close it. I’m once again thankful for thesmall cockpit of the car, despite being six-two and finding it a bit cramped for my long legs. I still picked it for this drive, knowing it would put us in the closest proximity of all my vehicles.

I lean across her body and she stills. I suck in a greedy breath of her intoxicating coffee and vanilla scent. She smells fucking delicious. I reach up and grab the leather handle right over her hand and pull the door down, shutting it with her. I allow myself to stay close to her the entire time out of necessity but enjoy the feel of her heart hammering against my back anyway. I let go of the door and reach across for the seat belt next, pull it over her body, and buckle it for her as her chest rises and falls quickly under my arm.

“Safety first,” I say with a low chuckle. Once she’s set, I pat her smooth leg and can’t help the caress of my thumb across her outer thigh. Just as I start to pull my hand away, she slaps her hand over mine, keeping it there, and I meet her eyes curiously.

“What’s your deal?” she asks, her voice shaking.

“You have to be more specific. I have lots of deals,” I answer, wanting her to be very clear about her request.

“I don’t date, and you’re not even my type, if I did. Why do you wantmeto be your fake girlfriend when I’m sure there are a hundred willing women you could pick from?”

I laugh at her finally getting to the point, but I think she’s lying about me not being her type. I see how she looks at me. I’ll play along for the sake of answering her question.

“I don’t date, either. It’s convenient for our fake relationship that you don’t like me all that much so you don't fall for me.”

She shakes her head vehemently. “I won’t, but why are you messing with me like this? Every word out of your mouth is full of sexual overtones for strangers who met yesterday. If youdon't expect me to fall for you, why are you flirting with me? Do you expect this to be a friends-with-benefits type of thing?”

I’m shocked she finally got up the nerve to approach my flirting head-on. It does something to me to hear her assertive instead of reactive or reproachful. I want to praise her with a well-placedgood girl. I bite my cheek to keep the thought internal, despite knowing she’d likely preen under the praise. She’s exactly the kind of driven, overachieving, words-of-affirmation woman who’d have a praise kink.

I can’t help the involuntary squeeze of my hand on her thigh and she feels it, her eyes dropping to her lap to stare at our hands on her thigh before slowly meeting my eyes again. There’s heat in her hazel gaze, shading her eyes more amber than green. Fuck, it turns me on knowing she’s feeling the tension, too.

“Do you want it to be a friends-with-benefits type of thing?” I ask her question back to her with significantly more promise in my tone than hers held, unable to be anything but flirty with her. When she stays silent, I change tactics. “You hold all the power, Ainsley.” I run my thumb gently along her thigh. She doesn’t stop me. “You get to direct what this is in private. I just need a girlfriend convincing enough in public to keep Harlowe off my back. That means we’re going to have to touch and put on a compelling enough show for her and others. If we enjoy it along the way, well, good for us, right?”

“That sounds like a cop-out for how much you flirt.” Her tone isn’t that believable, but she’s fighting the good fight to stay prickly.

“I happen to like flirting and you’re very fun to flirt with.” I turn toward her and she meets my eyes, guarded but receptive. I decide to give her a truth so she’ll have some power of her own in our dynamic, given I’ve already takenso much just by reading her as easily as I do. “I’ll say things to get a rise out of you knowing I can. You can give me that satisfaction or not. It’s up to you.”

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