Page 5 of Date with A D*ck

“I did. Don’t act surprised, you came here looking to be seen.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t act coy now. You stepped in this restaurant with that dress wrapped around that body; you damn sure wanted to be seen.”

“How was I supposed to come out looking? Like a homely school Marm?”

“Oh, I am sure you could have found something somewhere in-between,”

“You know what, just unlock the door so I can go home,” I snapped at him. Did I wear the dress to be seen? Yes, but he didn’t have to call me out.

“Before I let you out, I just want to ask you a question,” he says, moving back to let me walk past him.

“What’s that?”

“Are you hungry?” he asks as I am walking past him, making me pause.

“What?” I ask, thinking back on all the food I ate and how full I still am and I am thoroughly confused. “I...” start and pause again.When did he move?

“Let me rephrase the question,” he says standing close enough to me to feel literal heat coming from his body and he isn’t even touching me. “Is she hungry?”

My eyebrows scrunch in confusion, until it clicks who the she is that he is referring to—making my lips take on a comical O shape seconds before it hangs open in shock.

“I think I better go,” I say, hating myself for being a coward.

“I see, so you got dressed in this dress, just to be seen,”

“And if I did?”

“Then I’d say mission accomplished,” he murmurs, his voice a warm, low rumble that lingers in the air. He steps beside me, his hand lightly brushing my elbow as he steers me toward the front door. The distance feels unfairly short, and before I’m ready, we’re standing at the threshold.

“I hope you enjoyed your meal tonight,” he says, his tone polite but maddeningly restrained. I watch as he fishes his keys out of his pocket with practiced ease, the faint jingle breaking the silence. He slides the key into the lock, the soft click of the tumblers a finality I’m not ready to face. As the door creaks open, he steps aside, holding it wide for me, the gesture gentlemanly, but distant.

Coward.The word snarls through my head, my inner voice sharpening its claws. You talked all that big talk, and when you had your chance, you folded. You tucked tail and ran like a scared little mouse. He. Left. You.

I hover in the doorway, my pulse pounding louder than I’d like, the warmth of his presence a few inches too far. I take a deep breath, then let the words tumble out before I lose my nerve.

“What if she was hungry?”

His lips curve into a slow, deliberate smile, one that dances dangerously close to cocky. “Then I’d very happily, very thoroughly feed her,” he says, his voice darkening to a honeyed growl, “until she’s completely satiated.”

A thrill races through me, and before I can think better of it, I taunt, “Bold words for someone who doesn’t even know if he can deliver.”

The air between us thickens, his expression sharpening with challenge. He doesn’t move, but somehow, he seems closer. The space between us hums with unspoken energy.

“I have no doubt,” he says, his voice steady, commanding. “And if you doubt it…” He pauses, his gaze locking onto mine with such intensity that my breath stumbles. “I can show you better than I can tell you. I’m an overachiever—always have been, always will be. When I set my mind to something, I don’t just accomplish it. I excel.”

His words are a promise, heavy and unyielding. I shift on my feet, suddenly hyper aware of the weight of his gaze, heat rising to my cheeks.

“Where’s your car?” he asks, his hand sliding to the small of my back. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt through me, and I let him guide me past the door. His hand steadies me, a subtle, possessive pressure that makes my pulse quicken.

I take a few steps forward before digging my heels into the ground, halting abruptly. The sudden stop catches him off guard, and he stumbles slightly, his balance faltering just enough to spark a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

Whirling around, “we’re both hungry,” I say in a rush. The heat in his eyes is enough to scorch the earth, as a smile creeps across his face.

“Have a good night,” he says, his tone calm but loaded, his words hanging in the air like a challenge.

“Wait—what?” I stammer, confusion knitting my brow… again.

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