Ambrose chuckled. “I don’t think you want to hear my answer to that.”

“What’s so funny? I can cook, you know. Maybe I’m not as fancy as you are, but who can afford steak all the time?”

Hmm . . . Maybe he should have made spaghetti. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking about food, bad girl. I was going to suggest you get naked, but I decided it wasn’t very date-like to say it out loud. And as for the fancy dinner, I have to make sure I impress you now, before some other Dominant snaps you up.”

She rolled her eyes. “You could have had me five minutes ago, but you insisted we needed to eat first.”

“You insisted we needed to have a real date. I was all for fucking you as soon as you set foot in the house.” He shrugged. “Besides, maybe we should get to know each other, since I can’t seem to keep my hands off of you.”

He was expecting a smart-ass response, but she blushed and looked away.

Mmm . . . girl . . .

Everything was ready at the same time—a skill he’d worked hard to master in the last couple of years. As he arranged everything on plates, Everly took a seat at the kitchen table. It was more intimate than the dining room, and less ostentatious.

When he set the plate down in front of her, she looked impressed. Excellent.

“Wow! You’re good. Have you ever thought about becoming a chef?”

He’d put the place settings so close together that they almost touched, so when he sat down, his leg brushed hers. A zing of electricity shot through him, as though he hadn’t been balls deep in her the other day. He’d assumed that after they’d slept together he’d stop feeling so obsessed, but if anything, it had made it worse. The way she sassed him, yet submitted to him so thoroughly, made him want her all the more.

“Cooking is probably more fun as a hobby than it would be if it was my job.” He cut into his steak, pleased to see it had turned out perfectly even though he had no appetite. Not for food.

Everly took a bite. Her manners were impeccable, which fascinated him. Watching her put things in her mouth also fascinated him. Was she always this prim about eating? He tried not to stare, but failed miserably. The look of pleasure on her face probably wasn’t helping. It brought lewder things to mind.

“Mmm.” She picked her napkin up out of her lap and dabbed at her mouth. “Are you not eating?”

Fuck, his dick was getting hard again.

“I just wanted to see if you liked it,” he lied, skewering a bite of steak with his fork.

“This is probably the tastiest thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.” She smirked, and he leaned in and stole a kiss.

“That was the most interesting backhanded compliment I’ve ever received.”

“Well, the next best is far too big, really. Having it in my mouth makes it hard to be ladylike.”

He blinked at her, contemplating dragging her into his office by the hair, but that wouldn’t be considered romantic by most people. “You should behave yourself, miss. I will be playing with you later, so you might want to watch your mouth.”

“Oh really? But why? You seem to be doing that job well enough for both of us,” she said archly. She popped another bite of steak into her mouth, but even though he’d been caught staring, he was helpless to look away.

“Woman, how on earth are you single? You’re the type I usually pine after while they have deep and meaningful relationships with some other guy.”

“I have a hard time picturing you pining.” She took a last bite of food, then smiled.

“Oh, it’s pretty much my natural state. Don’t I smell Christmassy?”

“I’ll check later.” She winked. “As for why I’m single, I want a D/s relationship, but I’m too much of a handful for most men. I haven’t been able to find anyone who likes bratting and who I have a deep connection with.”

“You don’t want to try to train your own Dom?” A visual of her looking sweet and demure came to mind.

She snorted. “I’m a handful for experienced Doms. I’m not sure I’m beginner training material.”

“Sex and relationships are complicated enough. Add BDSM and finding someone compatible gets difficult.” The warm feeling he’d gotten when he was thinking about her at the bakery came back. His feelings about her were moving too fast. Time to change the subject.

Not hungry, Ambrose set aside his plate and started to clear things away.

“So, what else would you like to do on our date? Dance? Watch a movie? Go for a walk?”

“Those all sound good. You’re not going to show me around the house first, though?”

He shrugged. “If you want.” This was going to be tricky. He was excited to show her around, wanting her to like the house, wondering if she’d sleep in his bed, but knowing she never would if she knew the place was his. Every other woman he’d dated was impressed by the house, even if Banner told him that his decorating was obnoxious and ostentatious. Not being able to use the place to his advantage, considering he wasn’t a smooth talker or sophisticated, didn’t give him much to work with. He expected to woo potential girls with expensive gifts. Of course he’d managed to find the one girl it wouldn’t work on.

Everly’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I want.”

Such a naughty girl. He’d make her want, all right. “Come with me, then. I’ll give you the in-depth tour.”

“I think I choked on that tour the other night.”

Ambrose snorted. If she thought he’d feel guilty about that, she was sadly mistaken.

He took her by the hand and led her through the house, enjoying the way she’d pause to look at artwork here and there. Last, he showed her the indoor pool.

“See, now this is what I’m talking about.” She sighed. “This pool is bigger than the one at the community center my mom used to drop me off at when I was a kid. What single man needs so much just for him? And the rest of it”—she gestured at the room’s decor—“shows that your buddy has more money than taste.”

He winced. “Thomas is a bachelor. He’s also pretty good at getting what he wants.”

“Like most rich people. They do whatever it takes to get what they want, no matter who it hurts.”

“Want to go for a swim?” His tone soured, although he hadn’t meant it to. “Or is this room too ugly to hang out in?”

“Oh, I offended you.” She smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you’d take it personally. I’d love to go for a swim, but . . . I didn’t bring a suit.” Her shrug was a thing of beauty, laced as it was with suggestive invitation.

“You’ll just have to skinny-dip, then.” His next words cost him a lot. “Unless you want to borrow a pair of my swim shorts and a T-shirt?” Please say no.

“Do you think I need to cover myself? Are you untrustworthy, Sir?”

“Why, yes, I’m extremely untrustworthy. But I can guarantee a swimsuit won’t deter me.”

She fiddled with the hem of her dress, as though she were shy and hadn’t begged for him to make her come several times now. “Is this all a ploy to get me naked?”

“Yes.”

There was a feigned gasp of shock. “Is this the room you keep your concubines in, oh Sultan?”

He laughed. “Banner and Konstantin joke about me keeping concubines here . . . when Thomas is away.” Fuck. He’d almost blown it. “Okay, concubine, show the Sultan what you have under that pretty dress.”

“The Sultan is a pervert, I see.” Amused, she lifted her dress over her head and stripped it off. Her matching bra-and-panty set was cobalt blue, and could well have worked as a bikini except for the fact that the bra was cupless. Her nipples, pink and stiff, made him regret he’d have to go upstairs if he wanted to get clamps for them.

Ambrose realized he’d been staring at her tits and her lovely curves too long, and he forced his gaze back up to her eyes.

“Lucky for you, I don’t have anything in this room to torture you with. Other than myself.”

She snorted. “If you were to excuse yourself momentarily, Master Sultan, I’m sure I could find some way to amuse myself until you come back.”