“Actually, coffee, please.”

After a curt nod, he spoke to the chef for another minute then turned back to the table, grinning like a kid in a candy shop. It was fucking adorable. Here was Ambrose, in his element.

“You really like food, huh?”

“Yes.” His forehead creased, the grin fading away. “Is . . . that bad? Anytime I date a girl who only eats salad or whose idea of eating out is Taco Bell, things never seem to last long.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that with me.” She giggled. “I hate salad. Unless it’s drenched in ranch, but then it’s not really a salad, so much as dressing with salad as the garnish. I should probably eat more salad—I mean, look at me—but I just like real food too much. I’ve never made a very good herbivore . . .” She trailed off, realizing she was rambling.

When she lifted her eyes to look at Ambrose, he was giving her that silly grin again.

“What?”

“You’re perfect the way you are. And I love when you talk food.”

Smirking, she said, “Just food? Or are you thinking about other things I put in my mouth?”

“Don’t tease, little brat. You have to go back to work after this. You don’t want me to muss you up in the bathroom, do you?”

That didn’t sound like a bad idea at all. She shrugged and looked at him coyly.

He chuckled. “Bad girl.”

The chef appeared, carrying a glass of wine and a mug. She thanked him, then, after adding cream and sugar, she sipped her coffee, hoping it would make her come to her senses. No matter how private the table, they were still in a public restaurant. And she did have to go back to work after this. Now was not the time to tempt the demon.

“So you’ll come over tonight?” he asked. “I’ll text you the address after I get my phone.”

“Sure.” She arched a brow. “What are we gonna do? Watch a movie? Play a board game?”

He leaned back, letting his arms span the back of the chair, reminding her just how large he was.

A shudder swept through her. Fuck, how was she going to last until tonight when she was getting horny already?

“We’ll play some games all right,” he said. “I liked the one we played last time. I’m the Sultan and you’re my little slave girl.”

She thought of the slave bells he’d given her and the fact that she sometimes wore them around her apartment. Wearing them made her feel like she was his property, which was a crazy turn-on. She’d fantasized about belonging to somebody for so long it seemed almost too good to be true.

Time to test a theory. “Oh. Here I was just thinking maybe I’d wear my new schoolgirl skirt.”

His body seemed to freeze in place, then he swallowed hard. “I . . . uh . . . I’d be okay with that.”

She chuckled, feeling cocky and powerful. “Maybe it’s too soon for that. I’ll just wear a T-shirt and jeans.”

Abruptly, he sat forward. “No, I like your idea better.”

“Nah.”

“Wear the fucking skirt, little brat, or you’ll be sorry.”

“Mmm.” Warmth slid from her belly down to her pussy. “What if I like being sorry?” She nibbled her lip.

“There are better reasons to be sorry than for disobeying me.”

She leaned in, her breath shallow and her voice husky. “Like what?”

He sat up straighter. “You’ve been very bratty today. I have a desk and a strap with your name on them.”

A whimper escaped her and she fought the urge to slide her hand down between her legs. If she pressed on her clit, just for a second, she could possibly come right there in the restaurant.

“So you’re going to wear that pretty skirt for me, right?”

“Yes,” she said on an exhale.

He quirked a brow.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

Ugh. How was she supposed to finish the day like this? Needy and wet and ready to hump her own hand? She was just about to ask about the mussing-up-in-the-bathroom idea, but Ambrose cut in.

“Here comes the food.”

The chef placed two plates in front of them with heaping piles of pasta that looked and smelled delicious. Still, she was distracted.

Ambrose scooped a bite then stopped and looked at her. “Why are you pouting?

The chef had left, and no one was within earshot.

“I’m horny, Sir.”

He laughed. “Poor girl. That’s what you get for teasing me.”

Obviously, she wasn’t going to get any mercy from him. She growled and stared at her food.

“Eat. The chef made it just for you. You still have a long day. I’m not letting you leave until you eat.”

“Yes, Sir,” she grumbled with a mock salute.

His eyes narrowed. “We’ll address that over my desk later.”

Her stomach thunked and her whole body felt like it turned to Jell-O. Slowly, she picked up her fork, trying to clear her mind of all the dirty thoughts flipping through it. Fuuuuuck. Why did she have to open her big, bratty mouth? Now she’d be thinking about that desk for the rest of the day.

They fell into silence as they ate the cheesy pasta mix on their plates. Though she stayed horny, her thoughts drifted from sex to food. The dish was amazing. Each ingredient blended perfectly with the others. She found most cheese dishes to be greasy, but this was just perfect.

It wasn’t long before she’d finished more than half of the heaping portion on her plate.

“How do you like it?” Ambrose asked, polishing off his.

“It’s really good!”

He smiled genuinely.

“But I’ll pay for my half. It’s only fair, especially since you have to replace your phone.”

Rolling his eyes, he placed his fork by his plate. “This is a date. You’re not even paying for your water. Now shut up and keep eating.”

“Rude!” she teased. “I’m full though.” At his glare, she said, “Seriously. It’s too much. I’ll take it home for tomorrow.”

He seemed satisfied with that and took it upon himself to get to a to-go box from the back. After working out some kind of arrangement with the chef, he told her everything was paid for and walked her to the door.

“I think I’m booked solid from one to four,” she told him as they headed back to the salon. “But you can come after and I’ll do your hair.”

“Nah. Not today. Just let me know when you have an open spot later this week.”

“It’s no big deal. I can take you at four.”

“No.” He playfully nudged her. “I need you well-rested for tonight.”

“Oh really?” Chuckling, she said, “What if I need you well-groomed for tonight?”

He frowned at her. “Heyyy. You’re not attracted to me with shaggy hair?”

She sighed wistfully. “You’re hot no matter what. It’s not fair.”

When they reached the salon, he yanked her up against him, leaned down and kissed her, hard and long, until she couldn’t breathe. When he stopped, she turned and realized they were right in front of the big window and all her coworkers were watching.

She scowled up at him.

He didn’t look sorry. In fact, he smirked and said, “I had to claim what’s mine.”

Sighing, she rolled her eyes and pushed away from him, hiding a smile at the word “mine.”

“Men!” she shouted over her shoulder.

His cocky chuckle followed her inside, making it harder to hide that smile. But right when she stepped through the doorway, about nine women squealed and grinned at her. A few coworkers even clapped and jumped up and down.

Oh my God.

Sometimes working with a bunch of women in such a close environment really sucked. For the rest of the day, she played Dodge the Twenty Questions, counting down until their date tonight. And her date with his desk and strap.

Chapter Eight

“This is the act of a desperate man.” Kate laughed as she followed them up the stairs.