His eyes were almost slits as he glared. “Is that right? And why exactly would that be?”
I couldn’t contain my laughter. He was being ridiculous.
“Because he has experience, understands the business, is as organized as I am, and took this job because he wants more time with his family.” I stressed the word. “Once he’s up to speed, it’s going to make a huge difference for me.”
Hunter stepped closer. “You’re going to pay for that little stunt, baby. You like riling me up?”
I slid my hand up his arm and around his neck, playing with the back of his hair. “You were awfully sexy, all pissed off and high-handed.”
He gripped my hip. “I plan on showing you pissed off and high-handed later. For now, I want you to get into that SUV and go to my place. I’m gonna feed you, then we’ll talk about your—” his gaze was icy hot, and he ran his tongue along his bottom lip “—teasing. We’ll talk about it my way. Later.”
“Feed me?”
He pulled me to the driver’s side door, opening it and waiting until I was inside.
“You’re going to need your strength.” His grin was wide and wicked. “Every ounce you have.” He began to shut the door. “Be naked when I get there.”
“I thought we were eating?”
“Oh, we are. I just want you naked. It’ll make dinner so much more interesting.”
And he walked away.
I waited on his porch, fully clothed, certain he was teasing. I heard his truck along the road, and he pulled up, yanking off his sunglasses and shaking his head. He climbed down, patting Cash’s head and tossing him a new treat he’d bought him. He picked up a bag on the passenger seat and walked toward the house.
“You don’t take direction very well, Ms. Callaghan.”
“I assumed you were kidding.”
“You assumed wrong.”
“You really want me to eat naked?”
“I really want to eat you naked,” he replied.
I blinked. “What?”
“You heard me. Lose the clothes and come…for dinner.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you going to be naked too?”
“Depends how nicely you ask.”
I turned and headed inside. I was sure he was still kidding, but to call his bluff, I pulled off my dress and sat at the table, my legs crossed primly.
He came inside and set down the bag on the table. “Do you always have this much trouble with authority?”
“I took off my dress. These chairs are rough. I might get splinters.”
“We’re not eating at the table. We’re having a picnic on the floor.” He took a thick quilt off the sofa, spreading it on the rug in front of the fireplace. I watched as he toed off his boots, undid his jeans, and yanked his shirt over his head. He lifted one eyebrow in challenge.
“I never took you for a coward, Ava.”
Glaring, I unclasped my bra and dragged my underwear down my legs, going as slowly as possible. I felt his hunger from across the room. Felt the heat of his stare. With a bravado I wasn’t feeling right then, I walked over and lowered myself to the blanket, sitting cross-legged.
His jeans disappeared fast. He sat across from me, opening the bag. His knees pressed into mine, his erection tenting the front of his boxers. He lifted out some containers, handing me one. I opened it, revealing a thick, juicy, double cheeseburger from the diner.
“Oh God,” I muttered. “I always make a mess. I use about a hundred napkins when I eat one of these.”
“I know,” he said, his voice gruff. “But today, no napkins. Every time you drip something, I’m going to use my mouth on you.”
I almost swallowed my tongue. “Pardon me?”
“You heard me.” He pushed the container my way. “Eat up. I put gravy on your fries too.”
“Where is yours?”
He winked. “We’re sharing. You’re my plate, Little Dragon.”
“You are one kinky son of a bitch, Hunter Owens.”
“Eat.”
* * *
It was the longest, messiest dinner I had ever eaten. Every bite oozed ketchup or mustard. Grease dotted my chest, no matter how careful I tried to be. Hunter’s mouth left a blaze of fire on my skin as he licked and nipped at my skin. He took bites from the burger, holding it over my legs, licking off the condiments with a wicked smile. He held up the fries, watching with glee as the gravy slowly slid from the end of the French fry to my thigh. Then he pulled a large, icy cold vanilla milkshake from the bag, and he dripped the sweet concoction on me, lapping it away with his tongue until I was going out of my mind with desire. I needed his hands on me. I wanted his cock inside me. I was wet and aching, my body ready for him, my need growing by the minute.
His erection never abated during “dinner.” It was hard and tempting, and he avoided my wandering hands, never allowing me to touch him.