The Play Mate (Roommates, #2)

When she finally stopped giggling, Evie held a hand to her heaving chest and shook her head. “I’ve been to some nice places in my life, but this one takes the cake. There are five forks, Smith. Five. Even I don’t know what to do with that many,” she whispered, jabbing a finger toward the gleaming utensils. “I’m feeling a little out of my element.”All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

I was about to argue with her, to tell her she would fit in no matter where she went. But the truth was, when I’d planned the date, I just wanted to impress her. This place was a Michelin three-star restaurant and made all the magazines. After our first date at my apartment where we’d eaten a humble roasted chicken, I’d wanted to knock her socks off.

But that wasn’t Evie, was it?

This was a generic fancy date for a generic woman. Evie was right. The only reason she was out of her element was because this place wasn’t good enough for her.

I dug into my pocket, pulled out my wallet, and dropped a fifty on the table. Then I stood and held out my hand. “Come on. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

She let out a puzzled laugh and eyed me suspiciously. “And go where?”

“You’ll see,” I replied, a plan already unfolding in my mind.

Tonight would be a night Evie would never forget, and it wouldn’t be because of any stars or fancy food. It would be because the date was for us and only us.

• • •

“I thought this place closed down last year,” she said, shooting me a shocked look as we pulled up to Rap Scallion’s Bar and Grill less than an hour later.

“Nope. Granted, nobody we know comes here anymore because it’s still a college bar, but they’re open and it’s Friday Five-Cent Wing night, and they have a trivia contest going on.”

When her eyes went suspiciously glassy, I knew I’d done good. This was the same bar we’d gone to on her twenty-first birthday. Up until the point that she’d lost her cookies, she’d had a great night. We all did. Sometimes I wondered if I’d known then that things had changed between us and had refused to admit it to myself.

“Thank you for bringing me here. Lots of great memories,” she said, reaching out a hand and laying it gently on my chest. She shifted on the seat of my car and then gasped. “Oh my God, but look at what I’m wearing. I think I’m just a little overdressed, no?”

“Except that one time you were naked in my hotel-room bed, you always seem overdressed to me, so I’m not the guy to ask,” I said with a wink. “But I can help if you’re worried about it.” I shrugged off my suit jacket and tossed my tie aside before facing her again. “Let’s get this hair down first.”

I reached for the twist like I’d been dying to do since she first walked into the restaurant, and with a few gentle tugs, sent the whole mass tumbling down in a cascade of honey waves. I ran my fingers through it until it looked sexy and mussed, like she’d just left my bed.

“Perfect,” I murmured, my voice gritty.

Her throat worked as she swallowed and nodded. “Good start. What else?”

I trailed my hands down her neck to the buttons of her blouse, flipping open one and then another until a sexy hint of cleavage showed. It took a Herculean effort not to bury my face between her breasts and stay there until morning. I worked up one more surge of self-discipline and untucked the hem of her blouse, unfastening two buttons at the bottom as well and knotting it at her waist. It was only then that, in the moonlight, I realized I’d uncovered a swath of fabric.

Peach lace.

“Ahhh, fuck,” I groaned. My gaze locked with hers, and her breathing became choppy as she wet her lips.

“Y-you said you wanted to see me in it,” she whispered, her voice so low I had to lean in to hear her.

I sure had. In her office a few days before, I’d pointed to this very piece of lingerie. And now, here she was wearing it.

For me.

My resolve not to sleep with her was hanging by a fucking thread, and that thread was unraveling faster by the second.

“I want to see the rest of it more than you could possibly know.” In fact, my dick was so hard, it could have crushed coal into diamonds. “But if I unfasten one more button, we’re never getting out of this car.”

“Would that be so bad?” she asked.

She gnawed on that bottom lip the way she always did, and I let my thumb caress just a scant inch of the soft fabric before pulling back.

“Yup. Because if you think your real first time is going to be in a car, you’ve lost your mind.”

And if I didn’t get out of said car, I was going to lose mine.

I pressed a hard, rough kiss to her mouth because I couldn’t not do it, and then I flung open my door. “Now, let’s go have some fun.”

Luckily, we did. We strutted into Rap Scallion’s hand in hand like we owned the place. We got a few looks from the jeans-and-T-shirt crowd, but soon enough, everyone went back to their beers, and Evie and I were engaged in a heated battle at the dartboard.

“All I need is a bull’s-eye and I win,” she said, rubbing her hands together with glee as she lined up the tip of her high-heeled shoe with the piece of black tape that marked the floor. She closed one eye and perched the tip of her tongue on her top lip as she focused.

As competitive a person as I was, I felt a rush of pride wash over me as she launched that dart into the heart of the board. The electronic game beeped and blinked wildly in celebration of her victory, and she danced along with the noise in time.

“Oh yeah, oh yeah, I’m a beast!” she chanted, shimmying in place as I looked on, shaking my head in mock disappointment.

In truth, I could have watched her shimmy all night. A swath of that peach lace flashed at her waist whenever she moved, and it was doing things to my insides that I couldn’t even describe.

I strolled toward her and bowed deeply like the waiter at the restaurant. “Congratulations, mademoiselle. May I buy you a victory drink?”