“I know you have that date, Todd. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure Amelia gets home safe,” Davis tells Todd.

I raise my eyebrows at Todd, silently saying ‘you have a date, so leave me alone’.

Todd’s chest rises and falls. He’s struggling inside of himself, and I’m curious to why. He’s the one who wanted me with Davis to distract him from the kitchen.

His eyes find mine, asking me if I’m okay with it, and I silently nod. Hopefully, Davis can’t pick up on our nonverbal communication.

“All right.” Todd’s body weaves back and forth. “Yeah, I’m already kind of late due to this whole lame hot chocolate contest.” He releases an uncomfortable chuckle. “Noodle, we’re still on for tomorrow morning?” he asks.

It almost slipped my mind that we have a photo shoot with Gia, the female model I’ve been working with.

“Yeah, ten o’clock. Don’t be late.” I point my finger at him.

His lips stay in a straight line. “Never. See you then.” He bends over the bar and kisses my cheek. His hot breath erupts goose bumps along my neck when he lingers longer than usual. “Be careful,” he whispers in my ear.

When he pulls back, all that anxiety I just heard in his words are vividly clear in the lines of his face.

“Good night, Todd. Have a fun date.” I smile, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he shakes Davis’s hand. When Todd reaches the door, he glances at me one more time before the cool night breeze streams into the restaurant with his departure.

“So, you owe me a tour,” Davis whispers in my ear, the bristle of his five o’clock shadow rubbing along my cheek.

My heart races with his nearness.

“I always pay my bets,” I whisper back.

His hand lands on my hip.

Hoist me up onto this bar, and take me now.

“Hmm . . . I think I made the wrong wager.” His palm tightens, and his breath tickles my ear, making me scrunch my shoulder up in response.

“That’s okay. A tour of art will be fun, too.”

My body falls into his, and his hand glides to the small of my back with his fingers resting on top of my ass.

“A tour of something more beautiful would have been nicer,” he adds.

My hand grips his bicep, so I can remain upright—although, I doubt Davis would let me fall.

“All the art I’ll show you is beautiful.”

“Unless they’re replicas of you, there isn’t anything more beautiful than what I’m looking at right now.”

My knees buckle slightly, and Davis pulls me toward him. My other hand grips his opposite bicep, and our eyes lock together.

“You’re killing me, Amelia,” he breathlessly says.

“Why?”

“I want you so bad, but I’ve never—I mean, never—had a relationship with someone who works for me.”

His honesty is refreshing. It’s something I’ve wondered about—if I’m just another spatula in his kitchen, so to speak.

“We should stop,” I tell him, my eyes closing with the thought of never being in his arms again.

“I know,” he says with a distinctly wavering voice. “I keep telling myself to leave you alone, to walk away—”

“But?”

Both his hands linger just below my hips, and I crave his strong hands to be all over my body.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he grabs my ass and thrusts his pelvis into mine. The hardness inside his pants is pressed against me. My core clenches as I think of having nothing between us, him sliding in and out of me.

“Just give me one taste,” he says as he bends down.

One hand roams along my back, leaving a quake of shivers up my spine, before it lands on the nape of my neck, and his fingers splay through the strands of my hair. With a light tug, he positions my head exactly where he wants it, and his soft lips press firmly against mine with his tongue creeping into my mouth.

My own hands stay planted on his strong muscles while his tongue dances with mine. He growls into my mouth, and I release a moan of my own. I move my hands to the back of his head, and he hoists me up by my ass, propping me on top of the bar. He positions himself between my legs, and I wrap them around his waist.

“One taste just won’t do,” he murmurs against my lips.

Before I realize it, his fingers start manipulating the buttons on my shirt.

The want and desire of having his hands on my bare skin practically has me combusting. He’s about to open my shirt, revealing my striped satin bra, when the door flies open.

“Are you open?” A drunk college kid stumbles into the bar.

Davis pulls back, and I grab the ends of my shirt and hop off the bar. Davis leaps across the wooden obstacle and is within inches of the kid before his friends come in and pull him out.

I turn the opposite way of the door, button up my shirt, and grab my jacket. By the time I’m ready to go, Davis is locking the door. When he turns around, his forehead scrunches but quickly disappears. He knows as well as I do that we just got carried away in a moment of lust.

“I’ll drive you home.” He strolls by me and heads toward his office.

“You don’t have to!” I yell after him. I can’t help but be a little upset that he didn’t try to persuade me to continue our make-out session.

He shuffles into his jacket and meets me the dining area. “I told Todd I’d get you home safe. I’m a man of my word.”

His change of personality has my mind reeling on what just happened. He flipped from ‘I’m going to devour you’ to ‘You have a contagious disease’ in a matter of seconds.

“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself,” I assure him, not wanting anything more from him than the humiliation he’s about to put me through by driving me home.

“I know, but will you humor me?” His flirty personality has returned.

He’s more confusing than a nun in a strip club.

I roll my eyes but follow him out the back door. There sits a sporty two-door black Lexus. It screams fast and dangerous but mostly expensive as shit, probably costing more than my whole college tuition.

“Nice car,” I say dryly. I refuse to give him any indication of how bad his dismissal is eating away at me.

“It’s a Lexus LFA, one of my only splurges,” he brags.

Well, I can only imagine our definitions of splurge are on opposite sides of the spectrum. I doubt it’s worth the same as a pair of seventy-five-dollar boots like me. That took me two months of contemplating the purchase before I actually bought them.

“Amelia.” He places his hand on my knee.

How did I even get into the car?

Brain, please relent from silent rambles until we are locked safely in the apartment.

“Sorry. What did you say?” I shake my head and turn to his direction. My knee warms with his palm still pressed against it.

“Where do you live?” he asks.

Oh, this should be good.

“West Village.”

He tips his head to the side. “Nice neighborhood,” he mentions.

I wish like hell he hadn’t just found out where I live.

“Believe me, it doesn’t reflect anything about me.” The words spill out before I can clamp my mouth shut.

“I didn’t think it did.” He drives out of the alleyway.

The dark streets are vacant, with the fine-dining restaurants closed for the night. His fingers tap on the steering wheel to the beat of “Sleeping with a Friend” by Neon Trees streaming out of the speakers. The ironic coincidence of the song isn’t lost on me in this moment. If it were my car, I’d have already turned the station by now.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

“Sure.”

“You and Todd, have you . . .” he tentatively questions.

I’m half-tempted to lie. A vindictive side of me wants him to know that I’m not about to get down on my knees and be thankful that he’s showing me interest. I’ve dated many guys who think their wealth of money makes women do about anything to be with them. Not this girl—at least not anymore.

“No. We’re only friends,” I say, not revealing much else. It’s really none of his business. “Turn right here, and I’m in the third building on the left,” I instruct him, happy to escape from the car.