Tied(53)

“Afterward, I would’ve paid your cab fare and gone on my own merry, sexually satisfied way home.” I wink. “And I would’ve ranked our night as the best of my life. So far.”

She doesn’t frown, exactly, but the potential is there. Disappointment settles in her brown eyes, and the edges of her smile fall just a bit.

“That’s it? So you don’t think we’d be together right now?”

I pick up her hand and hold it in mine, looking it over before kissing each of her fingertips. “I didn’t say that. Like those of most geniuses, my epiphanies take a little time to settle in. I would’ve spent most of Sunday reminiscing—but by Sunday night, I would’ve started figuring out how to find you again.”

Just like that, the pre-frown vanishes. “You would’ve wanted seconds?”

“Seconds, thirds, fourths . . . and when I found you at my office on Monday? You can bet your ass my couch would’ve been scandalized much sooner.”

Kate leans forward, purposely teasing me with a bird’s-eye view of her cleavage. “What about your rule—Drew Evans doesn’t ride the same roller coaster twice?”

I enjoy the scenery.

“I’ve proven beyond a reasonable doubt that when it comes to you, my rules were always meant to be broken. If you were the coaster in question, I would’ve bought the whole f*cking amusement park and ridden you until I couldn’t see straight.”

Kate’s free hand slides up my thigh, inching close to the holy land. Her voice is teasing. Playful. “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Evans?”

“If you have to ask, I’m obviously out of practice.” I up my game. “Take your panties off. Right here, right now. Then give them to me.”

How’s that for flirting?

Her hand stops its exploration. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

She doesn’t sound shy or shocked. So I know her refusal isn’t because she doesn’t want to.

The lewd lightbulb goes on above my head. “You’re not wearing any, are you?”

Kate looks into my eyes. And sexily pops the p as she says, “Nope.”

Instantly my finger rises toward the waiter. “Check, please.”

The waiter quickly brings the check, and I throw a handful of bills down on the table. In a rush, I stand up.

Kate giggles. “They’re going to think you’re unhappy about the food, Drew.”

I help her out of her seat and lower my mouth to her ear. “I don’t give a shit what they think. If I don’t get you out of here right now, I’m going to lay you down on this table and give the other customers a show they’ll never forget.”

She looks up at my face daringly. “And I’d let you.”

Oblivious of the stares of the patrons and staff, Kate wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me. When her demanding tongue strokes mine, the sensation goes straight to my balls. With my arm around her lower back, I say, “You got all dolled up—I thought you wanted a night out.”

“Drew, I haven’t come in six weeks. The only thing I want is your cock so deep inside me, I can taste it.”

I don’t actually remember leaving the restaurant after that. Kate’s awesomely dirty revelation must have fried my brain.

The next thing I know, we’re on the sidewalk and I’m dragging her to the side of the building—to the narrow alley just wide enough to fit a Dumpster that faces the street. I have enough awareness to bring Kate to the far side of it—so we’re shielded from the view of cars and pedestrians. My eyes scan the path for intruders. Finding none, I devote all of my attention to Kate—to making up for all the screwless days she’s endured.

My hand buries itself in her hair, gripping the soft strands, holding her head captive as I plunder her mouth with my tongue. She writhes and rubs against me, pulling my shirt free of my pants and working on my belt.

It’s times like this I wish God had made people more like octopuses—six extra hands would be convenient right about now. We’re ravenous for each other—tearing and pulling at annoying clothes, wanting to touch every erogenous zone at the same time.

It reminds me of the first time we kissed, that night in my office years ago. It feels the same as that night—I’d wanted Kate, fantasized about her for weeks then too. The difference now is, I know precisely what I’ve been f*cking missing. So I’m even hungrier for her, bordering on totally out of control.

My hand slides down the front of her dress, into her bra, straining the fabric. I palm and knead her full breast, and a welcome moan reverberates in Kate’s throat. My fingers rub and pinch her nipple, making it harden to a perfect peak. Kate tears her mouth from mine and moves to my neck—sucking and licking—nipping the sensitive skin with her teeth. Making me weak in the f*cking knees.

I switch gears and slide my hands up her thighs, bunching her dress above her waist. Then I kneel down and pause for just a moment to appreciate the sight of her exquisitely smooth snatch.

Panting hard, Kate tries to cover her stomach with her hands. “I know I’m not—”

“Don’t f*cking finish that sentence.” I grab her wrists, holding them away from her body.

Pregnancy is a strange experience for women. So many fast-paced changes—mentally, emotionally, physically. And, no, Kate doesn’t look exactly as she did before. But only a total * would expect her to.