“How could I not?” His gaze stroked her face, then traced down her neck to her cleavage and back up. Everywhere his attention landed prickled with awareness.
“So maybe…maybe I want to get lost in that feeling for a little while.” She swallowed hard but kept going, needing to get it all out there. “I know I can run circles around most of the guys at work. But I looked at my audition tape again, and I can see what they’re seeing. It’s like even when I’m not trying, I come across as if I’m daring someone to pick a fight with me. I’m tired of always being in battle mode, always being on guard.” She lifted her head, her resolve crystallizing. “When you took control the other day, for the first time ever, I didn’t want to fight anymore.”
The blue in his eyes seemed to darken, and the scant slice of air between them charged with an energy that hadn’t existed a few moments before. He laid his hand palm-up on the table. “Take my hand.”
With only the slightest of hesitations, she obeyed.
He curled his fingers around hers, the grip possessive. “From this point on, here on the grounds you will go by your given name, Charlotte. When I call you that, you are mine.” His thumb caressed the backside of her hand. “My beautiful, obedient submissive.”
Beautiful. Sure.
“You’re not allowed to smirk at that, Charlotte. Every straight man in this room turned his head when you walked into the restaurant,” he said, his accent getting thicker the more displeased he was. “And I damn near skipped dinner because I didn’t know if I’d be able to spend an hour not touching you.”
She blinked, a bit stunned by his swift reaction and apparent anger.
“Do you think I’m a stupid man, like those silly boys you surround yourself with? Someone who doesn’t know what beautiful looks like?”
“What? No, I—” she said, stumbling over her words.
“Then don’t insult me by discounting my compliments.” His hold on her hand grew tighter. “Tell me you’re beautiful.”
She cringed and looked down. “Grant—er—sir, please.”
“Say it, Charli.”
She closed her eyes, her fight-or-flight response screaming at her. Why was this so hard? She didn’t think she was horrible-looking. But memories assailed her—her mother standing her and her sister next to each other when her mom was still trying to get them both into pageants and modeling—comparing, contrasting, Charli never getting anything quite right. Wasn’t her torso still a little too long, her smile too tilted, her figure too boyish?
She took a deep breath, trying to focus on the here and now. She wasn’t that awkward kid anymore. Plus, Grant wasn’t going to let this go. She managed to open her eyes and say, “I’m beautiful.”
His eyes softened as he reached out and cupped her cheek. “Good girl. Now we have to work on getting you to believe it.”
She rolled her shoulders, trying to release some of the tension that had gathered there. “I have a feeling you can be mighty convincing.”
“There’re a few terrorists in federal prison who would agree with you on that.” He gave her a wry smile as he reached for his wallet and tossed a healthy tip on the table. “Come on, freckles.”
He stood and held out a hand to her. She took it and let him guide her on the step down, this time very aware of keeping her dress in place. “Where are we going?”
Before she could take another step, he dragged her against him, his hot body pressing against hers in all the right places. His breath was warm against her ear. “It’s been a real long while since I’ve acted like a true member here. I think it’s time to fix that.”
“Oh,” she said, the word coming out in a gasp.
“You ready for that?” He skated his palm along her side. Then, in full view of the other diners, he slid his hand beneath the hem of her dress and up the curve of her outer thigh.
“Grant,” she whispered urgently, trying to scoot away.
“Hush.” He held her in place and his fingers found the waistband of her panty hose. He tugged. The pliable nylon gave easily, and despite her shocked intake of breath, he drew it down and over her hips, not stopping until he crouched in front of her and slid them completely off her legs.
She glanced around at the other people in the restaurant—almost all were now looking their way. Her cheeks burned and cool air drifted up her skirt, teasing her newly waxed skin.
Grant balled up the panty hose, rose, and tucked them in his suit pocket. He cupped her ass through the dress and molded her against him. “When you’re with me, I don’t want anything blocking my touch. No panty hose, no underwear. I don’t even want your clothes in the way. Skirts, dresses, and lingerie only. Everything else is banned.”
Normally, she would’ve protested, questioned. No underwear? No jeans? But the way his erection was dragging the soft material of her dress against her most sensitive spot was completely fragmenting her thoughts. She shuddered against him.
He pressed his nose into her hair. “That excites you, sweet Charlotte? Knowing that whenever I want you, wherever we may be, all I need to do is shove your skirt up and take you?”
Charlotte. Just hearing the name she’d never used sliding off his honeyed baritone helped her fall more deeply under his spell. And his words did excite her, more than she wanted to admit. She liked the idea that there could be times he wouldn’t be able to resist her. That he’d have to have her right then and there. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s my girl.” His fingertips caressed the bottom curve of her ass. “There’s no room for shame or self-consciousness when you’re with me. Let all of that go.”