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appeal made his normal, no-nice-girls rules
impossible to abide by.
    It didn’t matter that she was his neighbor. Or that, despite
her claims to the contrary, she was a forever type of girl. None of his
reservations mattered. Because, selfishly, he wanted her. And if he didn’t take
her up on this outlandish offer, she’d find some other guy. A safer guy—one
who’d never understand what she really needed.
    It had to be him. He’d worry about the future later.
    The bathroom door opened and she emerged. Not looking right
or left, she zeroed in on their table, and weaved a path through the
restaurant. Her right hand clenched in a fist, he stifled a groan when he
realized it was her panties. Male patrons shot covert glances in her direction,
their appreciation clear.
    Not that Abby paid any attention. Unlike most women he
dated, she didn’t bother to see who watched her.
    She slid into the booth, keeping a good foot and a half
between them. He hid his smile. The contradiction between the advance and
retreat of her sexuality made him want to rip her clothes off and put an end to
the argument about which side of her should win.
    He crooked a finger. “Come here.”
    She shot him a wary glance but moved a fraction of an inch
in his direction.
    “Closer.”
    Again she moved, but not anywhere close to where he wanted
her.
    In a warning tone, he said, “You looking to get that
spanking crossed off your list the first night?”
    Eyes going wide as saucers, she sidled right up next to him.
    “Good girl.”
    He chuckled when she gave him a fierce scowl before lifting
her wineglass to her lips with only the slightest of tremors. She took a huge
gulp of the Chianti, her throat working as she tried to swallow her nerves
along with her wine. When she put the goblet back on the table, her little chin
tilted up. He admired her determination, despite her obvious uneasiness.
    Soon enough she’d realize her discomfort, along with
anticipation, only heightened her arousal.
    He could only pray he’d survive.
    The heat of her body warmed his skin though his clothes. The
scent of her swirled around him, the mixture of sweet spice and sex making him
dizzy. He held out his palm. “Hand them over.”
    “Fine, here.” She raised her eyes to the ceiling and shook
her head. Despite the fact she clearly found him unreasonable, she pressed
black silk panties into his waiting palm.
    He rubbed the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, not
surprised at the already damp fabric. “For a girl who’s so annoyed, you
certainly are wet, aren’t you?”
    She gasped, her breasts overflowing the top on her dress as
she sucked in a huge breath. “I am annoyed!”
    “I know you are,” he said agreeably. “Funny how it only
makes you more aroused.”
    “It does not.” In a major huff, she crossed her arms over
her chest.
    He rubbed his thumb over the wet fabric in slow circles, the
scent of her arousal filling his nose and rushing to his already painfully hard
cock. Abby watched his movements in wide-eyed horror.
    “Another time,” he tucked the panties into his pocket for
safekeeping before crooking a finger under her chin and forcing her to meet his
eyes, “I’ll put them on the table so even the waiter can see what kind of girl
you’re hiding under that prim exterior.”
    Cheeks flushing ten shades of red, she jerked away. “I’m not
hiding.”
    He slid his arm around her shoulders and toyed with her
hair. “Aren’t you?”
    “No.” She picked up her napkin and twisted it in her lap.
    Before he could comment, the waiter delivered salads Lukas
didn’t want. When they were once again alone, he asked, “Is your dress new?”
    She rolled her eyes, that smartass nature of hers peeking
through her discomfort. “Of course, you know this isn’t my standard attire.”
    Lukas contemplated the dress, it was amazing on her. But
that wasn’t really the point as far as he was concerned. He wanted to know how
it made her feel. Most women