Page 79 of The Bluffing Game

“Don’t call me that.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll⁠—”

“You’ll what, kiss me again?”

This time, he grabs my face, and he presses his lips against mine. I can’t stop myself from kissing him back. His fingers sift through my hair, and I reach up and play with the fine hairs at the base of his neck. He presses me up against the wall, and I moan as his fingers slide up under my dress and squeeze my ass. His hands move up across my breasts and rub against them gently. I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t stop myself. I pull his shirt out of his trousers and touch his warm stomach. He groans and pulls away, his eyes wild as he looks down at me.

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to leave this date right here, right now?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, my heart racing.

“I mean it. What if I ask you to leave this date and we go somewhere, you and me?”

“I can’t do that, Dalton.”

“You can. You just don’t want to.”

“I am here with Parker.”

“And what do I care about that?” he says as he slides one of the straps of my dress down my arm.

“What are you doing?”

“This,” he says. He kisses my shoulder to my collarbone and then up my neck and toward my lips again. “I just want to keep doing this all night.”

“Well, you can’t,” I say as I push him back. “We can’t be doing any of this.”

“Pity,” he says. He exhales a deep sigh, and he tucks his shirt back into his pants. “I suppose I need to be a good boy so you can enjoy your date.”

“Yes, you do.” I pull my strap up and gently run my palms down the front of my dress.

“So, what about if I want to take you to dinner tomorrow?” he asks, softer. His eyes search mine.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Before we arranged this date, Parker asked me if I wanted to go to the beach tomorrow, and I told him I’d tell him yes or no, depending on how this date went.”

“Well, obviously, this date went shitty.” He grins. “You’re in the restroom, making out with me.”

“Dalton,” I admonish him.

“What? We can go and tell him right now. If you’d rather, I can go and tell him right now, and he can leave, and then we can go.”

“No, that’s so rude. I can’t do that.”

“Okay, fine,” he says, and he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me toward him again. “You can just pretend like you’re not pressed up against me right now. You can pretend this doesn’t feel good.” He rubs his finger against my bottom lip. “You can pretend you don’t want me to slip my fingers into your panties and feel how wet you are.”

“I’m not wet,” I lie.

He chuckles. “You want to bet?”

“Dalton.” I glare at him as he lifts my skirt up, but I don’t stop him.

“I just want to see something,” he says as he runs his fingers lightly between my legs and touches the thinness of my damp panties.

He grins, and I moan, holding on to his shoulders as he rubs me gently. My legs shudder beneath me. He slips a finger inside my panties and rubs my clit a few times. When he pulls his finger out, my eyes fly open. I am barely breathing.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”