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“Shae gay?”

“That’s what he calls it. He swears he knows me on such a personal level that he could never see at me as anything other than a friend. Hence, Shae gay.”

Thank fucking God.

“Does that make you feel better?”

“Tremendously.”

“Would you two like dessert?” Stella asks.

Shae and I both answer at the same time, just not the same way.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“No?” she asks. “Why not?”

Leaning in close, I brush my lips against the outer rim of her ear and whisper, “You are dessert, remember?”

She blinks once and her gorgeous lips form a perfect O before she looks up at Stella. “Check, please.”

She’s so damn cute. “My father owns the place. We don’t have a bill.”

She grins sheepishly. “Then what are we still doing here?”

Anxious to get my hands on her delectable body, I all but drag her out of the restaurant.

Once we’re out the front door she giggles, the sound shooting straight to my dick.

“Slow down,” she says, laughing. “My legs are shorter than yours.”

Turning around, I scoop her into my arms. “There. Now you don’t have to walk at all.”

She wiggles in my arms, trying to get down, but no way in hell am I letting go. She feels too damn good.

“You don’t have to carry me.”

“I know I don’t. But I want to, and the faster I get you to my car, the quicker I can get you to my bed.”

“Run,” she says, breaking out into laughter when I do just that.

We pull up to Rex’s building, and he jogs to the passenger side of the car to open my door. He extends his hands and helps me out before tossing his keys to the doorman.

“Welcome back, Mr. Ambrosi. Would you like me to leave your car out or have it parked for the evening?”

“Park it,” he commands, looking down at me. “We won’t be needing it anytime soon.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have a doorman?” I ask. “Your building is much cooler than mine.”

He laces our fingers together as the elevator doors slide open. “I do.” With his hand pressed to the small of my back, he ushers me into the small space, and once the doors are closed, he pins me up against the wall. “Is that really what you’re thinking about right now? My doorman?”

Two large hands land on either side of my head, his hard body presses against mine, and it’s obvious from the erection digging into my belly that he most certainly isn’t thinking about the doorman. The silence stretches, causing our breath to echo in the tiny space, and I realize he’s waiting for me to respond.

“No,” I answer, hating how breathless I sound.


Tags: K. L. Grayson Mystery