Page 9 of Sexploitation

Confusion filters through his features for a moment, confirming my suspicion. He wanted to catch me off guard by showing up here. But I’d rather die than let him see how off balance he makes me feel. I take a deep breath and steel myself, ready for whatever he throws my way.

His arms encircle me, pulling my body into his. “Mmm,” he hums, his nose buried in my neck. “Have I ever told you peaches are my favorite fruit?”

My traitorous cheeks blush, making me look like some schoolgirl with a crush as I pull from his embrace and scan the street for his car. Which is difficult considering I don’t know what he drives. When I glance back at him with my brows raised in question, he chuckles.

I swear to God, this man loves to see me floundering. It’s like he gets some sick satisfaction from it.

“Are we leaving, or did you change your mind? We can go back upstairs, see if you can follow up all that talk with action.”

“Oh, darlin’... don’t worry, I fully intend to fuck you. I’m very much looking forward to burying myself deep inside your sweet heat.”

Fuck.A thrill shoots down my spine straight to my clit. Swear to God, this man and his dirty talk are going to be the death of me. Or the death of him, if he leaves me hanging again.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that actions speak louder than words?”

He chuckles, placing my hand in the crook of his arm. “Come on, Peach. Let’s get this date started.”

I suppress a groan when he starts walking down the street rather than pulling me to a car. Walking in four-inch heels is not how I planned to spend this date, but I’ll be damned if I break. He might have won this round, but I’ll win the war.

My mind races, trying to figure out where we might be headed. I’ve lived in this area for the last four years and know it well. It’s one of the reasons I suggested his bar that day to Josie. I’d been there a couple of times and knew it’d be the perfect place for some one-on-one time with August. Of course, that wouldn’t have been the case if I’d known all this shit would come out of it.

We pass his bar and keep walking. The urge to ask him where the hell we’re going is burning in my throat, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

I glance up at him and smirk, running my gaze up and down his body suggestively. “Starving. Plan to feed me soon?”

“Soon, Peach. Soon.”

“Promises, promises,” I singsong.

At the intersection, he turns and presses the button on the crosswalk pole. After a few minutes, the light changes red and flashes the walking symbol. He places a hand to my back and guides me across the street, keeping it there even once we safely make it across.

The weight of it against my spine tingles, my veins flooded with electricity. We continue up the street, his hand drawing small circles up the length of my spine as we walk. His fingers are feather light and heavy as stone at the same time. This man is good. Really fucking good. But I’m better.

My brow knits when he stops suddenly, not a single restaurant around.

“Chicken, steak, or beef?” he asks.

“What?”

“What do you like in your tacos?” He gestures to the taco truck parked on the street.

I swallow, forcing the confused look off my face, and scan the sign. Never in my wildest dreams did I think Elias would bring me to a taco truck for our date. In my experience, most men try to be flashy when wooing a woman. I’ve been to some of the most expensive restaurants and exclusive clubs in this city. I’ve had men shower me with lavish gifts for a chance to get me into bed. But this... never.

“Chicken. No tomatoes, please.”

While Elias orders, I try to rework the plan in my mind. Once again, he’s managed to throw me off my game. It’s nearly impossible to be sexy and seductive while standing in the street eating tacos. But I’m going to make this work.

Moments later, he passes me a plate with a foil wrapped taco. I take it from him, wondering how the fuck I’m supposed to eat it without making a giant mess all over myself.

“Hold on, I got you,” he says as if reading my mind.

He unfolds a few napkins, layering them together. And I watch with fascination as he picks up the end and presses the edge of the napkins against my breast, tucking them into the fold of my shirt. My body heats from the contact. The man has me feeling like a virginal girl.

“Thanks. I think.”

He chuckles. “This is my favorite taco place, but it can get a little messy.”

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