Page 79 of Promiscuous Lies

“Hey. I’m just finishing up so you can have your desk back.”

“I don’t want my desk back,” I reply. “Where is Bentley?”

“He’s with the sitter. I had to come in to do a few things.”

I lick my lips. I wasn’t expecting to have this conversation so soon, but I’ve never been a man to pull any punches.

“Do you have time for dinner?” I ask.

When I think she’s about to immediately shut me down, she glances at the wall clock and then nods.

“I can do dinner,orwe can go back to your place for a little fun. But I have to be back home in a few hours.”

“Then we’ll get dinner,” I say, reaching for her. I tug her to me by the hip, and she raises an inquisitive brow at my choice of dinner over dessert.

“You always grab me. Are you afraid I’ll run?” she says, sliding her arms around my neck.

“Well, you seem to have the tendency to run away from me before I wake up.”

She smirks. “I don’t run. I have a son to return to. There’s a difference.”

“Who you didn’t tell me about, might I add,” I purr as I dip my head and kiss her soft lips.

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Mr. Taylor. Now, are you taking me for dinner or trying to seduce me?”

I clench my jaw, my cock already semi-hard. I just can’t keep my hands off this woman. But tonight, I have to at least until after dinner.

“Let’s go. I want to discuss something with you,” I say as I grab her hand and pull her toward the exit.

We go to a local restaurant, so we’re not too far from the club and her car, and it won’t take her long to drive home.

“Is it true you used to mainly ride your motorcycle, but now always drive your car?” she asks curiously.

“Who told you that?”

“Paula.”

“Maybe I should rethink her raise,” I grumble under my breath. She laughs as the hostess leads us to a table in a secluded corner.

I’d fallen into the habit of driving my car when stopping by my establishments. I didn’t, however, expect to spend so much time at Pearl. But my curiosity was piqued by this little blonde monster. And I continued driving the car because it had more room. Now, I have a booster seat permanently in the back for her son.

We order meals and a bottle of red wine. She talks about the ideas she has for the social media accounts, and I listen, agreeing with her on most things. How could I not? I’ve never seen this side of Posie before. She enjoys her work, I realize. She’s so passionate about it.

When they place our meals down, I take a sip of the wine, watching her silently as she looks at her plate with anticipation. I’ve come to learn she really enjoys food. I figured this out because the meals I send her are the only gifts she’s never thrown away. And I now know to ensure that nothing I send has nuts.

The conversation I had with my father a few days ago has been swirling in my mind, and I’ve come to a decision.

“Posie.” She looks up at me as she takes her first bite.

I pause for a moment to admire her. She’s dressed in all black, and her hair is tied back in a low braid. God, she’s beautiful. “I think we should get married.”

She chokes on her food, and I worriedly push her glass of wine toward her. She finally swallows, then sputters, “S-sorry, what?”

“You and me. Married.”

“Yeah, that’s a no.” She shakes her head in bafflement.

“Why not?”

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