I wanted to be the center of his attention.
Shit. Was I falling for a stranger? This was not in line with my productive summer plans.
He sighed and closed the menu.
"If you'd said no, I would have had to bring Laurence I suppose."
I snickered.
"What, don't you have any friends?"
"Not many," he said. He leveled me with a stare and suddenly I felt so... sorry for him. My heart knotted up. Who the hell was this amazing looking guy who lived alone with a rabbit and wrote stories with strangers online?
The restaurant's cheapest plate was thirty dollars and I had my eye on it. Matt had other plans. The waiter arrived and Matt fired our order at him before I could open my mouth.
"She'll have the seared scallops and a glass of your best white; I'll have the steak roulade and a Coke." He smiled at me. "We'll trade if you don't like seafood. The white will go well with the scallops, trust me."
"I love seafood. You don't want a drink?"
"Quit five years ago," he said negligently.
Sexy god is also sober. I tucked that information into my Matt file.
Our plates arrived and they were works of art, mine an arrangement of fat scallops with shallots and a buttery sauce swirled over the plate, Matt's a cascade of rolled spinach-stuffed steak. We shared. The flavors were exquisite and Matt was right, the white wine complemented my meal perfectly.
The wine got me buzzed and I fell under Matt's spell, talking and laughing with him like we had on our nighttime drive.
Matt got me chatting about the work I'd done that afternoon.
Yeesh, for someone who felt uneasy in formal environments, Matt could carry conversation effortlessly—and he looked like he belonged in this restaurant, whereas I felt out of place.
The waiter returned to check on us.
I planned to insist on paying for my part of the meal, though I had a dreadful feeling about the cost, but Matt only smirked when I mentioned it.
"Another time, Hannah. I already paid."
How the hell had I missed that? Ugh, drowning in Matt's sexy smile, that's how.
He took my hand as we left the restaurant and strolled up Pearl Street.
If he was in a rush to get inside me, he gave no indication. His eyes trailed over the shops. Sometimes he smiled down at me. Holy height discrepancy. Good thing I love tall men.
I caught people watching us. Oh... we obviously looked like a couple. A good-looking couple, I hoped. I felt eclipsed by the elegant man at my side.
Matt stopped.
I followed his gaze to a neon sign at the entrance of an alley. It read DYNAMITE.
"You've got to be kidding me," he said dryly.
"Ha. Wow." I shook my head. "I guess it's good I know where the place is. My sister's going to be begging rides off me, I know it."
"Kind of a long haul from Denver," he said. His tone was inscrutable. His eyes were trained on the glowing orange letters. What was he thinking, looking so somber? "Mm. Let's go in."
"Wait, what?" I laughed.
Matt tugged me down the alley and I traipsed after him, struggling on my heels. I'd never been inside a strip club. This was about to get interesting.
"You're crazy," I said as he paid our cover.
He smirked down at me. Uh-oh. I recognized that smirk.
One hundred percent trouble.
Inside, the club was surprisingly busy. I couldn't think over the music. The lighting was garish, red and yellow. A beaded curtain hung in front of some booths and there were red velvet chairs arranged beside a stage.
Three topless girls were strutting along the stage, floating towards men with bills. Everyone I saw had a drink.
I got on my tiptoes to whisper in Matt's ear.
"I think we probably have to buy drinks."
Matt glanced at the girls, then smiled down at me.
"Now this is seedy as fuck," he whispered back.
"I'm glad you think so! It really is. What are we doing here?"
"Having some fun," he said. He pulled out his wallet and headed for the stage. He'd caught the eye of an attractive dancer with chin-length blond hair. I watched them lean together and chat briefly, and I saw Matt pass the woman a bill. Her eyes widened and she smiled. Shit, how much money did he just give her?
Matt made his way back to me and took my hand. We followed the blond stripper toward the back of the club and down a hall. It got dramatically quiet when we stepped into a midsized room with mirrors on every wall. There were a few ottomans, a black velvet couch, a simple armless chair, and a table. I edged closer to Matt.
"Hi hun," said the stripper. "I'm Kelly. Don't be nervous darlings."
Darlings? The girl looked maybe twenty-five. She was pretty, though, and amazingly calm for someone wearing only a G-string and stilettos.
"Your boyfriend said you two wanted to have a little fun," she said, looking meaningfully between Matt and I.
Boyfriend? I glared at Matt. My glare dissolved as soon as I met his eyes. Oh... no. There it was—that starved, absorbing look that made me wild to please him. My heart went double time. I smiled faintly.
"Yeah," I said quietly.
Matt squeezed my hand, then prowled over to lean against a wall and watch us. Typical, he couldn't even sit. Restless... controlling. Intoxicating.
"Sit," he ordered, nodding at the chair. "Give her a lap dance," he said to the stripper.
I sank onto the chair. I was agonizingly aware of Matt staring at me, but I couldn't meet his gaze. I knew I was beet red.
The stripper straddled me and began to dance. She ignored Matt. She winked at me, ran her tongue along her lips, and brought her breasts close to my body as she ground her ass against my thighs.
I realized with a jolt that I was getting wet.
I wasn't into girls, not really, so what gave?
It had to be Matt. Matt watching me, enjoying my discomfort. Probably getting hard.
"Touch her," he said softly.
When I gave the stripper a questioning look, she took my hands and brought them to her breasts. I squeezed and she moaned.
Okay, I thought, I got this—but Matt's next order brought me up short.