Dirty Charmer by AC Sheppard

Author:AC Sheppard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AC Sheppard

Chez Clémence, Toronto, the following Friday

In the end, the fancy restaurant had been a bad idea. Really bad. Max knew it the second Addie took off that long, leather trench to leave it at the coat-check. The sight of her calves in high-heeled pumps beneath the hemline, had been torture enough, but that was before she revealed what she was wearing under her coat.

“Holy sh—”

She cut him off before he could finish that thought. “You’re going to say Scheifele, right?”

He swallowed in a vain attempt to soothe a suddenly dry throat. “Uh, yeah.”

The dress was a whole lot of nothing—but what nothing there was tempted with the sparkle of sequins and the sensuousness of lace. The floaty skirt hit just above her knees, and the bodice was comprised of two strips of shiny fabric over her breasts, leaving exposed a long expanse of soft, smooth skin between them.

As she preceded him to their table, he clamped down the desire to loosen his tie and instead placed his hand at the small of her back. All that was waiting for him now as a few long, torturous hours of sitting across from her, wanting nothing more than to tear that dress off her, and pretending he didn’t have a hard-on.

Though, technically, he wouldn’t have to tear a thing. He could just move those swaths of fabric aside to get at what he wanted.

But he’d have to behave himself, because this dining room didn’t offer a single bit of privacy. The space, with its soaring ceiling and hardwood floors, and pendant lighting hanging over tables like spotlights, felt like a stage, somehow. The food here was supposed to be art, but the room was set up so as to showcase the drama with the diners as active participants.

Addie settled her back against the dark velvet cushion of the banquette. “Well, this is something.”

The way her glance darted about the space took him back to the first time he’d taken her home. This restaurant was like a fucking palace, too. It only drove the point home when she picked up her menu and her eyes widened, no doubt at the prices.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Fuck the hoops he’d jumped through to get a table here tonight, he’d follow her lead.

“No… No, it’s fine. Gabby made me get a new set of nails, and I’m not wasting them on McDonalds.” She held up a hand to show him the ends of her fingers, short, squared off, blood-red, yet they’d definitely feel good digging into his back.

Later.

He covered her hand with his. “You’re overdressed for McDonalds.”

With a smile, she studied the menu. “Guess we’re staying here then.”

He ordered wine, a dry white based on the sommelier’s suggestion, and only realized he’d made matters worse when their glasses were filled, and he was forced to watch her reaction. Her expression slammed him right in the gut. Yeah, and he was quite familiar with how pleasure translated itself to her face, the way her lips parted, the flush on her cheeks, the dewy softness in her eyes.

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