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We make small talk while the server pours us each a glass of water, the two of us going quiet when she recites the nightly specials. Once I order a bourbon and Sin says she’ll stick with water, the server leaves us alone. To make idleconversation while surrounded by many others doing the same thing.

This is why I was never interested in going on a date with someone. Making mundane conversation and pretending to be interested in what the other person is saying sounds dreadful. I take a drink of my water, keeping my gaze fixed on Sin. She smooths the front of her dress down again before pushing the hair off her shoulder, exposing the elegant length of her neck. My body responds as per usual and I know the physical chemistry between us hasn’t waned whatsoever. As a matter of fact, it feels even more intense than the last time I saw her. Is that because it’s been far too long since I’ve had my hands on her body?

“I didn’t realize you were such close friends with Cyrus Thornhill. His family owns the university, right?” Sin’s voice breaks through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present.

“He’s my best friend, and yes. His great-great-great grandfather founded it.” My gaze narrows as I contemplate her. “How do you know we’re friends?”

“Oh. Tim told me.” She waves a dismissive hand, her cheeks turning pink while my vision turns red.

Fucking Tim. Such an idiot. Why is she still talking to him again?

“Are you and Tim—close?” I say the last word with utter disgust. If she says yes, I might flip the table and storm out of here.

But only if I can take her with me and fuck her in the back seat of the car.

“Oh no.” She laughs, the sound uncomfortable. “I mean, he wishes we were. And he’s nice but…”

She goes silent and I clutch my fisted hands in my lap, desperate to bang them on the table like a heathen. “But what?” I finally ask.

“I’m not interested in him like that. He’s just a friend.” Sheshrugs one shoulder, the light catching on the sequins that cover her dress, making it sparkle.

One would think a dress covered in sequins would be flashy and obvious but not these sequins, and not this dress. Prada designs are subtle. Understated. I appreciate the elegant cut, and the hint of sexiness with the semi-sheer fabric. My gaze drops to the front of her dress and I wish I could see her nipples through it. I swear I almost can, but not quite.

I will have those nipples in my mouth at some point this evening. I lick my lips in anticipation.

“What are you thinking about?” Sin asks me and I freeze, feeling caught.

Clearing my throat, I adjust the front of my pants, thankful for the table hiding my erection. “You don’t want to know.”

“I definitely want to know.” She’s smiling, her eyes sparkling like they did the night I asked her on this godforsaken date. Do we really have to go through with this ritual when all we want to do is fuck each other’s brains out? Seems like such a waste of time.

“I was thinking about how I can almost make out your nipples beneath the dress.” I grab my glass of water, bringing it close to my lips. “And how I want to have those nipples in my mouth later.”

Her face turns about thirty shades of pink at my words and she dips her head, her eyelids lowering. Ah, so modest when I know she’s a filthy girl who gets dripping wet every time I play with her ass.

“I don’t know if that’s proper after-dinner behavior during our first official date,” she murmurs.

Is she fucking for real right now? “Are you saying you’ve turned into a chaste little angel who refuses to play in the back seat of the car on the way home?”

Her lids lift, her gaze locking with mine. “We’re not taking the helicopter back?”

I shake my head. I had specific plans for the long car ride home and now she’s making me reconsider everything. “Unfortunately, no.”

The server reappears with my drink, setting it in front of me. “Would you care to order any appetizers?”

I’m about to say no, but Sin responds first.

“I’d love to try the truffle frites.” She’s leaning across the table, speaking to me. Asking for permission I suppose, which—not gonna lie—I love.

“We’ll take the truffle frites,” I tell the server.

“And the fried artichokes,” Sin whispers.

“Those too.” The server smiles at me and I scowl at her back.

“I’ll get those orders in,” the server says before she scurries away.

“You were mean to her,” Sin accuses.