“So suave.” I pretend to be disinterested in his explanation. “So good with words. Ian Mathers, the man who will transform The Grand, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Another testament to what you do to me. I can’t even find my words anymore.”

Wrapped around my wrist is his hand, not tight, but definitely noticeable. I imagine his hands all over me, squeezing my breasts, fondling my thighs, and of course… this time I can’t contain my shiver as I think about him spanking me, fingering me, and holding me down like…

Like a sub.

Fuck. See what he does to me? I’m not myself.

Apparently he isn’t either.

We could talk about it. We could sit here, over dinner, discussing why it is we act like this around one another. He and I both know that it won’t end well. At present we’re feeling pretty comfortable around each other. Why would we disrupt that with talk of Domming and subbing? Why would we want to drag that up when this is supposed to be a date night? This is as good for him as it is for me… right?

I think he knows to avoid the topic. So he talks about his mother’s latest shenanigans dating some retired European soccer player and going on some sex blog to talk about this guy’s big dick and how mortified her son would be to read it.

“I don’t really care,” Ian says, his hand still wrapped in mine as we ignore our cooling dinners. “My mother’s been dating guys left and right since the divorce almost a decade ago. Probably before that. They weren’t exactly monogamous… ever.”

“They told you this?”

“Hell no! I heard it from other people, and they’ve both dropped hints. Did you know they still hook up?”

“Why in the world did they get divorced if they still like each other and are okay with seeing other people? That makes no sense.”

Ian shrugs in that lackadaisical way that’s starting to turn me on more and more. This is a man who gets his shit done and still knows how to relax. That’s admirable. “Principle of the thing. They weren’t in love apparently, and their prenup said my mother got half the fortune if she stuck it out for at least twenty years. I think it was an image thing for my father.”

“So when they hit twenty years…”

“She filed the day after their twentieth anniversary. They were on a second honeymoon in Italy when the paperwork arrived!”

“what?”

“I’m serious. Dad was angry for about two seconds because of the inconvenience she caused. Not to mention she sort of ruined the vibe of their supposed romantic getaway.”

The Mathers are certainly interesting people. Everyone knows how unpredictable Caroline can be, but you don’t hear much about Dominic. Ian has always taken more after his father, but I think I can see streaks of his mother in him.

Would he spring a divorce on me if we got married? Like that?

What the hell! Why am I thinking about marriage?

My hand falters in his, and the next thing I know I’m shoveling food in my mouth while Ian peruses the dessert menu. He orders a piece of gourmet chocolate cake, which is promptly brought out the moment I push aside my empty plate.

“Didn’t ask me if I wanted anything,” I tease, picking up the dessert menu before the server can leave.

The cake slides in my direction. “I got it for you.”

“Hm?” He’s kidding, right? Why would he assume that? “I mean… we could share…”

“Why? Not on a diet, are you?” Ian grins, Shit-eating. He knows he’s pressing a volatile button. “Eat the fucking cake.”

The server backs away. I pick up the tiny fork and stab the corner of the fluffy, melting cake. Oh God, it looks so tasty. I can barely speak before the delectable chocolate hits my tongue. “I’m not on a diet, per se, but girls can rarely keep a nice figure eating whatever they want. This is a splurge.” I stick my tongue out so he can see all the half-digested cake on it.

He doesn’t flinch. “Most women would be as hot if they weighed a few more pounds. You have no idea how good it feels to thrust between a pair of soft thighs.”

Is he flirting? I keep my eyes on him as the fork plays with my lips. “That’s nice for you. I’m the one who has to find clothes to fit those thighs.”

Ian brushes his hand against mine again, and I feel it – that electricity shooting through me, demanding I throw myself onto the table and let him take me. I’m barely horny, really. It’s purely mental, and I’m kinda freaked out.

“You could weigh fifty more pounds and you’d still be the hottest woman strutting around, making me so hard and hot that it takes every bit of self-restraint to not throw you down somewhere and fuck your damned brains out.”

That growl in his voice is so intoxicating that a fog clouds my mind, containing images of him doing just that. Right now. He could take me right now, and I would let him.

But no. Ian likes to play his long games.

You know what? I can play long games too.

With his eyes bearing down on me, I cut some cake and hold the fork up to his lips. Within a second he bites down on it, still staring at me, those piercing hazel eyes taunting me as his tongue wraps around the fork. Shit, that’s hot. It’s not hard to imagine that tongue plunging down my throat, in my pussy, all over my body, over and over until I’m so tired from coming that I have to shove him away.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” My voice is nothing short of husky. It’s the voice I use on my subs when I’m about to reward them. Perhaps not the most appropriate voice, but… what other one do I use? This feels most natural. “You’re doing an admirable job, Mr. Mathers.”

“I try to seduce you every fucking day, Ms. Alison.” He plucks the fork from my hand and attempts to serve me a bite next. I’m more docile in my acceptance. Just a quick bite, pulling the cake off the fork with my teeth bared.

You’re seducing me, Ian, and while it’s working, I’m not going to let you think I’m anything but who I really am.

Whoever that is.

Presently, Kathryn Alison is someone who bites.

I’ll bite his ear, his shoulder, that stupid bottom lip that pushes out when he’s pouting – but totally thinks he isn’t pouting. I’ll bite one of his nipples, and then… ahaha, I’ll give him the thrill of his life when I bite his fucking dick.

Not hard, of course. Just enough to graze my teeth over his skin, to make him tingle, worry a little bit, and then realize that I’m that good.

This oral fixation going on between us is working, if that’s his game. I’d love to crawl beneath this table and blow him.

For real, this time. None of that coming on my face bullshit.

Great. I shudder, uncomfortable.

“You all right?”

Not really, but I lie. “It’s a little chilly in here.”

“We need to finish up here anyway. We’ve got a show to catch.”

“Oh? The cinema?”

“Better. Symphony. If you want to go, anyway.”

“I love the symphony. Especially if you have a private balcony.”

“We have one named after my family. Let’s go.”

The check arrives. You can imagine what happens.

“I’ve got it.” Ian tries to take it from my hand, but my grip is firm. “Let me. It’s a date.”

“And that means you pay because you’re the guy, right?”

“It’s not like that. Just let me pay it.”

“What’s wrong with me paying it? Not like I can’t afford it.”

Here’s the scoop: the Mathers and the Alisons have a similar net worth when you put us together, but I’m sure Ian’s fortune is larger than mine. He works more high-profile jobs while I run around doing charity. I’ve made quite a bit of money on my own thanks to my family, but I admit, a lot of my fortune does come from my family. So does his. We’re pretty even no matter how you slice it.

Sometimes a woman wants to buy her date dinner.

“You’re taking me to the symphony.” My smile is so terse I must look sarcastic. “So I’ll pay for dinner.” When he still won’t release the check, I growl, “Give it.”