Page 82 of Passenger Princess

We're barely twenty minutes and four dates in when I should probably start getting nervous for the health of my teeth. All this grinding can't be good for them.

When the current man she's sitting with reaches over, touching Ava's hand—a simple, relatively harmless move—I reach into mypocket and grab my phone, tapping on the screen and staring at my girl after I hit send.

Me:Stop letting these assholes touch you, Ava.

Her body moves a bit, registering a vibration, but she doesn't reach for her phone until the buzzer sounds, signaling it's time for the men to shift seats.

Ava: Are you jealous?

She sends the response with a smile and her gaze directed at me.

Me:Very.

She sees it and smiles wider before quickly tapping out a response as a new man with a too-white smile sits in front of her.

Ava: Good.

Then she stuffs her phone back into her little bag. I watch this interaction with as much interest as I've watched the past four, my skin prickling with irritation when it happens.

She leans forward, pressing her tits together as she does, and smiles at him. He smiles wide as she does, and I get it. I, too, get utterly enthralled anytime Ava graces me with one of her smiles, but the one spreading on her pink-painted lips isn't for him.

It's directed right at me.

My fingers move on my phone screen.

Stop being a brat, Ava.

The buzzer rings, time is up, and the douchebags switch positions once more. Ava lifts her phone before smiling again and typing.

You like it when I'm a brat. You said it gets you hard.

This would be a very inconvenient place to be hard. Plus, it's difficult to get too excited when you're actively on a date with someone else.

She rolls her eyes at that text.

Stop rolling your eyes at me, or I'll give you a reason to make them roll.

Promise?

I shake my head at her response, and somehow, despite another man sitting across from her and offering his hand to shake, I feel a twitch in my cock all the same.

What the fuck is this woman doing to me?

She puts her elbows on the table, resting her head in her hands as the man talks, rambling on about himself and never once asking about her. Ava's eyes keep drifting in my direction, a small consolation. Then she tips her head back with a fake laugh, her hand going to her chest, bringing attention to her breasts in the low-cut top.

Jesus, Ava, try not to draw an arrow to your fucking tits.

She looks at me quickly, a smile on her lips, and I groan internally, knowing that look never means anything good.

As tends to be her way, Ava shocks me. Instead of putting her phone back into her bag, she places it between her legs, crossing one leg over the other, her phone pinned against where I really want to be right now.

Ava.

It's all I say, but I know it was delivered when her body jolts just a bit. It's not enough for anyone else to notice, but me, so trained to register her every breath, can see it easily.

Ava, what are you doing?

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and then looks at me, her eyes on fire.

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