Page 32 of The Villain Edit

Because Ashley is Ashley, she can’t let my good deed go unpunished. She pushes her ass against my groin, her hips swaying just enough to set my pants on fire without drawing too much attention to what she’s doing.

I’m not letting her get away with it. I grab her hip with my free hand and press against her, letting her feel what she’s doing to me.

Her breath catches, her hips stop, and I’ve won.

Except now I have a fucking erection to hide and the bourbon tasting is over.

Ashley turns, smiling sweetly up at me as her arms slip around my neck. Because we’re in public and I get to touch her with no risk of crossing lines I don’t want to cross, I slip my hands around her and, mostly blocked by the counter I have her pinned against, grab two handfuls of ass, palming her good. Paybacks for her grinding on my cock.

The little noise she makes turns my blood hot.

“You thirsty or hungry?” I ask softly.

She doesn’t blink, but her tongue peeks out to wet her lips. “Hungry.”

“You ready?” I’m not winning this. She’s still smugly in control.

Her smile widens. “Are you?”

I jam my hands into my pockets, using the cover of her dress to rearrange myself into a less obvious position before I step back. “I’m ready.”

I hold out my arm and she slips hers into it, and we walk out to where the driver David hired for the night waits.

“I’m not sure that worked,” she says once we’re in the car, without a hint of the coyness from in the distillery.

“What do you mean?”

“They mostly photographed you. After you brought me back in, the photographer stopped.” She brushes a strand of hair from her face. “I think the distillery just wanted you.”

Shit. I’d been too caught up in the little game we were playing to notice the photographer once I had Ash back at my side.

“What do you want to do?”

She thinks for a minute, pressing her lips together as she stares out the car window. “The restaurant David booked is upmarket—what if we went somewhere else, where the other diners wouldn’t hesitate to film us?”

Maybe it’s the bourbon on an empty stomach, but I want to throw us in the fire and see what happens. I nod and after a word with the driver, we change course for a BBQ joint famous with locals and tourists alike.

It works. We’re recognized. Or rather, I am. Ash is openly ogled by men and women. Only a few people give her dark looks, suggesting they know who she is.

We’re seated in a deep corner booth with a high leather back, the excitement our arrival sparks soon settling down to a simmer.

Unfortunately, so does our conversation. People are surreptitiously watching us, a few trying to discreetly film us.

“Get David’s questions,” she says softly, tapping my phone through the pocket of my pants.

I skim the thirty-six questions for intimacy that David has incorporated into what he calls the Savannah Protocol. “Name three things we appear to have in common.”

She furrows her brows and takes a sip of her bourbon and cherry coke. I can’t wait to see what she comes up with, honestly.

“We’re both incredibly hot,” she says, cozying up to me with a smile. “We had shitty childhoods, and we’re both dying to know what the other is like in bed.”

We’re still playing this game, then. All right. I can up the ante.

“We go after what we want,” I say, sliding my arm around her and pulling her close. Her perfume smells better than anything coming out of the kitchen, and I press my lips to her ear. “We both like a challenge. And this morning, we both got off fantasizing about what it would be like to fuck.”

Her startled laugh cuts clear across the restaurant and she leans back to look at me, color high across her cheeks. I grin at her and the photos taken in this moment, the video—they’re viral. They’re believable.

“You were right about coming here,” I whisper as I cup her face, draw her to me, and kiss her.

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