Page 17 of Picture Perfect

“Yeah, but it’s cold and your legs—”

“My legs are fine.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “That they are.” That was when I felt his hand on my knee. “Just for the record, I wasn’t complaining about seeing your legs. And I probably should have mentioned that red is my favorite color.”

My lips were still curled and I was trying to figure out a flirty answer to give, but the waitress arrived with two plates of salade and a bowl of bread to go with the pats of butter already on the table. “Can I get you anything else for now?”

We both assured her we were fine and I picked up my cloth napkin, unfolding it to place on my lap.

Shane’s hand was still on my knee.

“Aren’t you going to eat your salad?”

“In a minute. I want to watch you.”

“You don’t think that’ll be boring?”

“Not even close.” His warm hand squeezed my knee before sliding up my thigh, bunching the dress. All of a sudden, my heart began thumping in my chest.

I made sure my voice was low, not that there was anyone close enough to hear me. “Are you being naughty?”

“Maybe.” The amused sound of his voice told me he most certainly was. “Do you have a problem with that?”

With this man? Never. I bit my bottom lip, realizing I was grasping the fork a little too tightly. Had he already wound me up that much? And would I be able to make it through dinner with him teasing me like that? I tried my best to seem unaffected and uncaring—but Shane likely knew better. “No. I’m just gonna eat my salad. If watching it makes you—” In a split second, Shane slid his hand completely up my thigh so that his hand was pressed up against my pussy. I could feel myself throbbing below in tune to the beating of my heart.

Shane slid his chair closer without moving his hand and the depth of his voice sent a chill through my body. “Holy shit. You’re soaking wet.” I felt his lips against my ear, unfettered because I’d worn my hair up, and his breath was hot. “I might have to do something about that.”

My voice sounded like a weak kitten to me. “Right now?”

His finger sliding under the panel of fabric was my answer, but he said, “No better time than the present. You go ahead and eat, beautiful. I just want to give you your dessert early.”

My eyes scanned the dining room, assuring me that we might as well have been alone, because everyone there was just as into their food and their dining partners as I was mine. In response to Shane’s promise, I spread my legs a little and adjusted my ass on the chair, allowed him easier access to me. “Thatta girl,” he said before sliding his finger down my slit, going straight for the area that would, so to speak, give him the most bang for his buck.

I sucked in a deep breath and lowered my hand to the table, the fork still in my grip but no longer commanding my attention. I bit my lip again and focused my eyes on a crouton, hoping I’d look halfway normal to anyone passing by, but my mind was not on food. It was on the swirling finger rubbing my clit, rapidly bringing me to the precipice. I had a fleeting thought, wondering what I’d say if the waitress came by at just that moment or if Shane would go ahead and take over but, even so, she’d have to wonder what the hell was wrong with me—or she might figure it out.

But there it came with our waitress nowhere to be found. Shane knew it, too, because of the way I fought to keep my legs from squeezing around his hand. But, more than that, I clamped my jaw closed so I wouldn’t cry out in pleasure. And, as I came down from the high, I realized I was also clutching the fork in my right hand and the tablecloth in the left. I relaxed my hands and forced my breaths to come more slowly before I opened my eyes. I was afraid to look around and so I didn’t. I instead looked over at Shane.

“Nice?”

I grinned as happy hormones coursed through my body. “Yeah.”

“You’re not gonna go to sleep on me, are you?”

I shook my head. “No, but I’d like to return the favor.”

A boyish expression lit up his face. “Later. Our main courses are on the way—and you still have your entire salad to eat.”

I glanced over at his plate, almost empty. How the hell had he done that? I’d only had one bite—and he was right. Our main dishes would be there any minute. I stabbed several leaves of lettuce but, before taking a nibble, I asked, “So tell me all about your life in New York.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” The grin on his face was charming and intoxicating, and I felt a twitter of something inside my chest. I knew Shane was a hell of a catch…and he was here with me. I was going to enjoy his company while I could. So I smiled back as I chewed my salad. “It’s amazing, Ivy. My agent is incredible, and she keeps telling me I’m a hot commodity. If you would have asked me a year ago what I thought I’d be doing with my life today, I wouldn’t have told you this. My outlook then had been pretty bleak. But it’s so different now. A few days a week, I have to go to a shoot or two and it’s not like it was with Greg. Most of the photographers there are all business and they probably shoot thousands of pictures in the space of an hour. I’ve been doing work for a couple of clothing stores, and it boggles the mind the work they have you do. Last week, I was already modeling swimming trunks.”

“So you make good money?”

He nodded. “Yeah, but I have to. You wouldn’t believe the cost of living in the Big Apple. It’s ridiculous. The food’s not so bad, but rent is insane. Transportation’s easy, though. I guess it’s just a matter of where I want my money to go. But…my goal’s been accomplished. I paid off my student loans and I have a savings account now and a new goal.”

I raised my eyebrows. What did this man have up his sleeves? “Do tell.”

“My agent suggested acting.”

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