Page 78 of The Bluffing Game

“Oh, nothing. I was asking Dalton if he thought he wanted the steak rare or medium well.”

“I think I like it rare,” he growls. “Very rare.”

“Well, that’s a pity because I like mine medium.”

“Oh, I can vouch for the steak,” Parker says obliviously. “It’s really good. I usually do a medium rare and the baked potato, but I’ve been told that the pommes de terre is delicious.”

“I might just get a hamburger and fries,” Sandra says. “I like to keep things simple.”

“You can get whatever you want, Sandra,” Dalton says, and he looks over at me. “As can you.”

“I don’t need your permission, thank you very much, Dalton.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about the food.” He grins. “You can get whatever you want in any other way.” He leans forward, and he whispers in my ear, “You can have any part of me to eat, to taste, to do whatever you want with.”

I feel my face burning. This time, Sandra and Parker both look at us suspiciously.

“Sorry about that. Dalton was saying that something came up at work. Will you excuse us for a second? We need to discuss the schedule for later in the week, and I don’t want us to be rude and do this in front of you.” I grab Dalton’s hand. “Can we speak for a second about the schedule? Maybe toward the back. That way, we’re not being rude to Parker and Sandra.”

“Of course.” He grins.

We slide out of the table and head down toward the back of the restaurant, near the restrooms.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing, Dalton? I cannot believe you showed up here,” I hiss at him.

He looks at me innocently. “I already told you, I thought you invited me and a date.”

“Give it a rest. I already know I did not invite you on a double date, and any normal person would know they shouldn’t show up for a double date when someone’s on a first date. So, what’s going on?”

“Maybe I just wanted to make sure that the date went well. I just had a bad feeling about this dude.”

“Okay. Then why were you touching my leg?”

“The same reason you were touching mine. Because I can’t keep my hands off you.” He runs his fingers down the side of my face and gently rubs my upper lip with his thumb. “You look stunning when you’re angry.”

“Dalton, you cannot do that. Anyone can see.”

“Can see what?” he asks.

A waiter walks past at that moment, and I grab Dalton’s hand and push open the door behind me, pull him in, and then lock the door. It’s a restroom, but I don’t care.

“Dalton, you are getting close to crossing a line.”

“Crossing what line?” he asks and takes a step toward me.

“Crossing a line that we cannot come back from. Like, it was all fun and games, but this is⁠—”

“What?”

“We cannot do this. I’m on a date. You’re on a date. You can’t touch me. I can’t touch you. We’re not on a date together.” I’m rambling and trying to catch my breath.

“Maybe we should be,” he says.

He grabs me around the waist and pulls me toward him. I press my hands against his chest to steady myself. He reaches down and kisses my neck. I close my eyes and breathe in his scent. I love the way he touches me. I love the way he feels against me, and yet I know I’m being absolutely awful.

“Dalton,” I breathe out his name. My eyes fly open, and his lips are dangerously close to mine.

“Yes, darling Sage?”