Today L.A. Witt’s new book, Not Safe For Work hit shelves and e-readers! We’ve got a great excerpt for you to enjoy. Be sure and pick up your copy of Not Safe for Work today!
Rick took a few deep swallows of water. I left mine on the table but wrapped my hands around it, letting the cold bring me back to earth.
My body temperature slowly came down, though the same could not be said for my pulse, especially as I whispered, “Why me, Rick?”
“You heard me.”
He tapped his fingers on the sides of his glass. “I did, but…I’m not sure I understand the question. Why not you?”
“Rick. You could have any man in this city.” I pushed my drink aside, folded my arms on the table, and leaned over them. “Why are you sitting in a bar with a middle-aged guy who builds models for a living?”
He studied me, and then slid his own drink to the side before mirroring me, leaning in so close our forearms nearly touched. “Because I’ve seen the way you carry yourself. I’ve seen the way no one intimidates you, no matter how hard they try.” A faint grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He ran his foot up the side of my ankle, and I sucked in a sharp breath, which brought that grin fully to life. He went on, “And once I saw you on Leathr, and I realized what you really are, I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to sit across from you in a meeting while I could still feel everything you’d done to me the night before.”
I blinked. Gulped. Reached for my water.
Rick sipped his own and, as he lowered the glass, asked, “That answer your question?”
“Yes, it does.” How was my mouth still dry? I took another sip. Then I looked him right in the eye. “It does leave me with one more, though.”
“Mmhmm.” I nudged his foot down again and pinned it to the floor beneath my own. “What do you want me to do to you?”
“Only one real answer to that, isn’t there?” He pushed back a little, as if to make sure neither of us forgot what was going on beneath the table. “Whatever you want to do to me.”
I smiled, resisting the urge to reach across and squeeze his arm. “Humor me. If you’re anything like me, you’ve been fantasizing a bit since this afternoon.”
Rick went for his drink again and whispered, “Started before this afternoon.”
“Did it, now?”
He nodded and drained his glass.
“Tell me.” I reached for my water, but let it go—might as well save it in case I really needed it. “What have you been fantasizing about?”
“Everything.” Rick cleared his throat. “I couldn’t even sleep after the first time I read your profile and realized it was you.”
“Is that right?”
He nodded again, this time lowering his gaze. “I…might’ve scheduled a few extra meetings that we didn’t really need.”
I moistened my lips. “Seems like a lot of time and money, considering we weren’t even talking to each other.”
“It was worth it. Sometimes I thought I was being an idiot, but it did benefit the projects we were working on. And it…” He hesitated before looking me in the eye. “It gave me a lot to, um, think about.”
His Adam’s apple jumped. “All the things I wanted a man like you to do to me. Like…like you tying me up until I can’t move. And then fucking me until I can’t move tomorrow.”
Oh. My God.
“Is that all?”
“Yeah, right.” He jumped, as if his smartass answer had come out before he could tell himself that was no way to talk to a man he wanted dominating him. He cleared his throat and quickly added, “To be honest, I’ve been attracted to you since the very first meeting they dragged you into.”
“Definitely. Finding out you’re single and into men, and you’re kinky…” He pressed his toe into the ball of my foot and sent electricity up my leg. “Seemed like you might be too good to be true. But so far…”
Is this really coming from Rick Pierce? What the fuck?
I swallowed. “I’m still waiting for a camera crew to jump out and tell me this is a prank.”
“No cameras. No prank.” He slid his foot out from under mine and traced my arch. “Just someone who’s curious how long it’s going to take you to put your money where your mouth is.”
“My—” I narrowed my eyes. “You’re awfully mouthy for a sub.”
He tensed but returned my challenging look, as if he knew he was on thin ice but wanted to see how long it would hold him. “You didn’t think I’d be easy, did you?”
Gulp. Holy shit.
“I do like a challenge.” I held his gaze, lifting my chin slightly again. “Well, tonight we can stop with a drink. Or we can see if we’re…compatible.”
He broke eye contact for a split second. “What do you want to do?”
“I think you know exactly what I want to do.”
“Then I guess…” He tapped his fingers nervously. “I guess I should be asking where.”
I held his gaze. It wasn’t beneath me to bring someone home on a first date, and I wasn’t opposed to going to their place after little more than a cursory introduction. But we had to tread carefully. Kink required a certain level of trust, and we were still more or less strangers. Location wasn’t something to take lightly. My place denied him home-turf advantage. His might bring me too close to some carefully laid boundaries.
I thumbed the edge of my glass. “A hotel is probably best. Neutral territory.”
Rick nodded, the faintest bit of tension melting out of his shoulders. “Good idea.”
I sat straighter. “I’m going to pay our tab, and then we’re going to get the hell out of here.”
“Wasn’t I going to buy you a drink?”
“It was iced tea. I can handle it.” I gestured toward the door. “You stop on the way and get any…essentials you think we’re going to need tonight. I’ll meet you in the lobby of the Coastal Star Hotel.”
Rick nodded. “Okay. Will do.”
We didn’t have much of a tab to pay for—iced tea and water didn’t rack up a tremendous bill—but I left the waitress a big tip for putting up with us. Then we slid out of the booth and headed downstairs to the parking garage.
We didn’t talk on the way down the stairs, and each time we came to a landing, I expected him to break off, saying he’d parked on this level while I continued down to the lowest one. But we were still together when we reached the bottom.
A small cluster of cars took up the middle rows, with my Camry all by itself near the far wall.
“I’m over there.” I gestured toward it. “What about you?”
“Right here.” He pressed the button on his key fob, and the lights flashed on a black Mercedes a few feet away. He stopped, spinning the key ring on his finger. “So…I’ll meet you…”
“The Coastal Star Hotel.”
“Right. Right. So I guess I’ll…”
“See you there?”
But neither of us moved.
We made eye contact. Broke it. Made it again. My heart was going crazy, as much from excitement as this alien nervousness. I didn’t think I’d been this nervous since I was nineteen and trying to work up the courage to kiss the woman who’d one day be my ex-wife.
Ah, that was it.
I took a breath and stepped closer to him. “You know, it seems weird to be on our way to a hotel room already. I haven’t even kissed you.”
Rick grinned, drawing my attention right to his slim but somehow full lips. “No time like the present, right?”
“Is that an invitation?”
“It’s…” He cleared his throat. “It’s your call, but the door is certainly open.”
I glanced around. This garage was bigger than the bar where we’d been too exposed to chance so much as a hand on an arm, but there was no one around that I could see. And at this point, with a phantom tingle where his foot had touched mine, I was rapidly forgetting why I’d ever held back in the first place.
I took another step, and though our height difference was more pronounced now, it didn’t feel that way. I didn’t feel in the least bit like I was looking up at him. Quite the opposite, actually, and the thought of him literally looking up at me—from his knees, from his back, from whatever position I’d ordered him into—went straight to my balls.
Well shit. If I was going to get hard anyway…
L.A. Witt is an abnormal M/M romance writer who has finally been released from the purgatorial corn maze of Omaha, Nebraska, and now spends her time on the southwestern coast of Spain. In between wondering how she didn’t lose her mind in Omaha, she explores the country with her husband, several clairvoyant hamsters, and an ever-growing herd of rabid plot bunnies. She also has substantially more time on her hands these days, as she has recruited a small army of mercenaries to search South America for her nemesis, romance author Lauren Gallagher, but don’t tell Lauren. And definitely don’t tell Lori A. Witt or Ann Gallagher. Neither of those twits can keep their mouths shut…