Page 32 of Fever

“A gun.”

“Good for her.”

“I don’t carry. On the job or off the job.”

“Two women in a house alone and no weapons?”

I nod. “Yeah. Like that.”

“My mom was a cop. She carries all the time.”

My eyebrows shoot up.

Sotay laughs. “What are you in the mood for? Chicken, steak, fish? Everything?”

A kid’s menu slips out, and I read it. “I love mac ’n’ cheese.” The hollow in my chest grows. “Mom always worked two jobs, and I was transported from neighbors to cousins to aunts and any other trustworthy adult for babysitting, so sometimes, that was all she managed to cook late at night when we finally got home.”

Sotay closes his menu and leans forward. “I’ve never had mac ’n’ cheese.”

“You should try it.”

“I will.” He makes a face as if he’s gonna try eating dirt.

I laugh. “Or not.”

“Or not,” he says and taps his claw on the table. “Do I have to kill my meal,” he hollers, “or is someone gonna bring it out to me?”

The chefs behind the bar freeze, exchanging glances. Doors swing open, and a man in a suit approaches. He sweats profusely, barely able to hold his pen and paper.

I draw my chair closer under the table and wiggle in my seat, pulling up my tight dress, eyeing the chefs, making sure their fronts face the other side of the restaurant. I do like Sotay’s games.

“Yes, sir?” the man prompts.

“Alpha,” Sotay corrects.

The man gulps.

“I don’t eat people, so don’t be scared. Bring me sweet iced tea and a coke. Regular. Steak, not cooked, vegetables, not cooked, a seafood appetizer, also not cooked, and one mac ’n’ cheese.”

The man scribbles on his pad, then glances at me in question. Under the table, I freeze and hold my underwear at my knees.

“Was I unclear?” Sotay asks. “Ask me to repeat, and I will.”

Wine. I want wine. A bottle, but I think Sotay ordered for me either a sweet tea or a coke. I like both, and I don’t know how he knows that. There’s etiquette when going out on dates. When the guys are paying, I consider their budget and follow their lead. But perhaps I’ve been going out with men on a budget who barely had enough to bring me to the local diner. “Wine, please,” I order, a bit uncomfortable. “White. Whatever you sell by the glass is fine.” I push the underwear down and it drops to my ankles. I shuffle my feet trying to step out of them. No luck.

Sotay smirks. “Ignore the tea and the coke. Bring two waters and a wine.”

The man leaves, and Sotay takes my hand in his. He pats it and purrs low. “I would be a very naughty date if I didn’t tell you wine is an excellent heat activator.” His black eyes positively glow.

I make an O with my mouth.

“Mm-hm.”

A private porn scene starts rolling in my head, and Sotay is the star. His body is sinful. The way he moves it, the positions he can put me in and still fuck me? I probably can’t imagine them all. Liquid pools in my belly, and I shift in my seat. No amount of liners can get me through the night, so there’s no sense keeping the underwear. We’re heading home and going straight for the furs. I reach under the table and slip off the panties from my ankles. I fist them and place my hand on the table, gesturing with my eyes.

Sotay licks his lips, and my pussy contracts, spilling more liquid. My body burns, palms sweating. He strokes the top of my hand, thumb sliding back and forth. It’s like he’s stroking my pussy with it. “Take the panties,” I whisper.

“Give them to me.”

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