Page 13 of He Loves Me Not

Send. Help.

Help does not come. I might, though.

This is going to be a long, long night.

I'm not wrong.

Dawson spends precisely all of dinner toying with me. One minute, his hand is between my thighs, pressing against my sex.

The next, he's using it to illustrate a point in a story. What story?

I don't fucking know!

It's hard to keep track when I'm trying not to have a shattering orgasm in front of my mother, my new stepfather, and approximately ninety of LA's upper echelon.

I'm going to murder him. I mean, I'll probably ride him to completion first. But he's definitely dying for this.

There is nothing discreet about the way I'm gripping the goddamn banquette like I'm trying not to lose my mind. And there is absolutely no way my mom hasn't heard me whimper at least twice.

My only saving grace is that she's so wrapped up in Dennis that she hasn't noticed my slow unraveling yet. At least, not until Dawson slips his hand between my legs again and I groan.

I actually fucking groan. At dinner. With our parents.

He's dying a slow, horrible death.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Mom asks. "You look flushed."

"No," I croak, my nails digging into the back of Dawson's hand. "I'm not feeling well."

The bastard beside me has the actual audacity to place his hand against my forehead like he's checking me for fever. "Hmm," he murmurs, his eyes glinting. "You feel a little hot, Half Pint."

A little hot? I feela little hot?

His thumb presses against my clit through my panties. "Maybe I should take you home. You may be getting something."

"I can take care of myself," I grumble, acutely aware of the way my mom is watching me now.

"Nonsense," she says. "Let Dawson take you home, dear."

I see the Universe is still conspiring against me. Awesome.

"Yes, let Dawson take you," he says, and I narrow my eyes at him. He just gives me an innocent look, but we both know what he meant. He's being evil on purpose.

Well, two can play this game.

"Fine," I say sweetly. "Dawson can drive me. And then I'll just call my neighbor if I need anything. He's such an amazing man. I'm sure he'll be happy to help take care of me."

Dawson's eyes narrow, turning this unholy possessive shade of hazel. His lips compress into a tight, unimpressed line. I almost laugh out loud. Even though he knows my neighbor is ninety and I have no interest in him, he's still jealous.

I shouldnotlove that as much as I do.

He slides his hand out from between my legs before sliding from the booth. "Come on." He reaches for my elbow, practically hauling me to my feet while our parents watch. "Let's go before you throw up in Janice's purse again."

"Oops." I smile sweetly as the heel of my shoe digs into the top of his foot. "My bad. Didn't see your foot there."

His teeth grind together.

"Will I see you again before you leave?" I ask my mom.