Adrian holds me in place with his piercing gaze. “I’d very much like to play with you, Suzette. I’d like to kiss you. I’d like to fuck you. And not just because you’re a pretty little thing who stormed into my office making demands you have no authority to make.”
With every word, he inches closer to me until he’s close enough to kiss me. The proximity is comforting in a way I don’t care to admit. Adrian actually leans down and does it. He kisses me full on the mouth, his lips steady and confident. When he pulls back I have to keep my hands in my lap from grabbing his shirt.
“It was a brutal day, and the only thing that kept me grounded and kept me looking forward to tonight was the very idea that you were coming to my office to do exactly what you did.” His admission shocks me.
“Adrian …”
“You may see me as ruthless and heartless, and you may not like what I do, but I’d like to see you again. In and out of the office.”
It’s strange for him to admit this to me. Most men won’t ever acknowledge they’re aware of other people’s feelings. Men like Adrian aren’t supposed to care what anyone else thinks. It’s possible he doesn’t care, but at least he’s aware of it. It causes a shift in the way I see him. The hatred softens and becomes something else.
“When the workday is over, there are other things we must do. And then there are things that we want to do.” He leans in closer, whispering at the shell of my ear, “I want you.”
His hand comes down on my knee and without hesitation he pushes it up between my legs, forcing my skirt up as his fingers brush against my slit. It’s the softest of touches and my eyes close, my lips parted and my head falling back. Adrian lets out a groan, the tip of his nose running along my neck, teasing me. “You didn’t put your panties back on.”
I shake my head, unable to speak. I didn’t. I tucked them into my purse, not liking their condition after … well, after what he did to me. Adrian dips his head again, close enough to kiss, and I want it so much that tears come to my eyes. I’m not even sure what they mean. Adrian seems to know.
“You,” he says, “are exactly what I want.”
He takes a deep breath and then exhales, the warmth of it lingering as he pulls away slightly. Trapped in his car, every sensation feels heightened, knowing how easily it is for him to admit his desire. I become aware of his hands. One holds the seat behind me, just above my head, and the one that was between my legs is now braced against the door, like he must hold on to something to keep him from touching me. From doing whatever it is he so desperately craves to do. Adrian’s eyes close for a moment and when he opens them, he seems steadier than before. “If you’d like to go home, I’ll take you home. I’ll have my driver take you wherever you need. Though I’d very much like to take you to dinner.”
“I’m not dressed for this place.”
“We could go somewhere else.”
“You have reservations,” I say and my pulse races, not wanting me to deny him … or myself.
“That’s a weak excuse, Suzette.” Disappointment flashes across his face, and surprise grips my heart. I’m surprised I care about his disappointment and I’m even more shocked that I want to go to dinner with him. He feels dangerous, like he could crush me if he wanted. Yet I find myself wanting to be under his thumb, wondering what he’ll do to me.
I don’t know where I’m supposed to draw the line, though. This is … this is something that could certainly destroy me, and then what would I have left?
I imagine how it will feel to have the car pull away from the curb and drop me at my place. And then I imagine what it would be like to let him help me out of the car and take me inside this restaurant. Both options leave me wanting, but only one feels safe.
“Is it a business dinner?” I ask, keeping my voice low and even.
A grin tugs the corners of his mouth upward. “No. It’s after six.”
“If someone asks?” A bit of desperation creeps into my tone, and I can’t stop it. “Could it be a business dinner if someone were to see us?”
“You’d like to be discreet?”
I have to be discreet. I don’t even know what this is. A hate fuck turned into a dinner date? There’s no telling what I might want to keep hidden later.
“Yes,” I answer. “Please. It would make me feel better.”
He seems to consider it, searching my expression as we sit in the back of the parked car. “Would you like to see me again after tonight?”
There’s a pressure in my chest, like a balloon getting filled up with helium. It reminds me of the excitement I felt when I was young and dumb and dating. Before I got married and everything went to shit. There was a period in my life when it seemed like anything could happen. That woman would revel in this moment. But that woman got her heart ripped out long ago. She’s long dead and buried.
“It depends,” I finally make myself say. “On how our discreet dinner goes.”
Adrian smirks, charming and seductive, making him all the more handsome. It sends a shiver of desire down my spine. I already want him again. Even at this point there’s so much heat between us and it seems impossible to turn it down. Above all, I want to see him smile at me with approval. I’ve never been a people pleaser. I’ve always been about making change, and change is often uncomfortable for others. Part of me still wants to please him. I want to hear him call me his good girl again.
“So you’ll come to dinner with me and then decide? That’s a fair deal.”
Adrian stares at me across the table of our rather private curved booth. His gaze is fire; everything about him is possessive, but in a manner that’s effortless. Every little thing, including the way his touch never left me when he escorted me into the Waldorf, is dominating yet in a way that’s gentle. I could have walked faster or simply pulled away from him, but there was never a moment where I considered such a betrayal. Both to what he obviously desires, as well as my own.
Tucked away in the corner of the restaurant, with fine leather upholstery covering the padded wooden frame, it’s easy enough to peek out at the other guests, although they feel miles away. It feels like they’re all staring at us, though they’re not. I shift in my seat. If they’re looking over here, they’ll notice I’m underdressed.
“I love seeing you squirm,” says Adrian in a low voice.
“About the meeting today …” I begin.
“We’re off the clock,” he says simply, ending the conversation without breaking my gaze.
I bite my lip and try to keep from bringing up work again. It would be so easy to fall into that.
The tension is still there, and I do my best to not so nervously lay the napkin across my lap as the waiter presents the menu to us.
I let the menu fall as Adrian orders for me. He’s quick and confident, as if we already know each other.
“Would that be all right?” he asks and inclines his head toward me before the waiter can leave. Nodding, I give my seal of approval.
I wait until the waiter has stepped out of earshot before I speak to him. “You’re lucky you chose what you did.”