“You have such a pretty smile.”

She blushed charmingly. “Thank you.”

They finished up and he ordered a slice of pie.

“I should go. I have an early breakfast with my family tomorrow morning. It was nice having dinner with you, Matt.” She scooted out of her side of the booth and stood.

“Wait, have some pie with me.”

“Oh, I can’t.”

“Can’t? You allergic to peaches? If so they’ve got cherry and lemon meringue too.” He grinned.

“No, I can’t do pie. The crust goes straight to my butt and it’s big enough as it is.” She laughed but it sounded brittle.

“Tate, I happen to like your butt. In fact, it’s pretty darned stellar. Come on. I know you want to,” he sang out softly. He loved her shape, soft and lush, all curves and dips.

“Look, I have bad enough self control as it is, don’t tempt me,” she whispered and he stood. Thank goodness she had on some spiky heels or he’d have towered over her.

“It’s just pie. It’s supposed to be tempting.” He grinned.

“I said no! It’s easy for you. Stop it. I’m not laughing.” The vehemence of her voice was laced with something else, pain and shame. Matt did not like the way it sounded one bit.

Tate let out a surprised gasp when Matt stepped to her, banding her waist with his arm, hauling her close. “Let me tempt you with something better then,” he said in a near growl, so low it strummed along her spine. Her ni**les pebbled against the front of her blouse and every other part of her called to attention. The heat of him buffeted her, nearly made her sway with want.

“Wh-what would that be?” Confusion swallowed her. What was he doing? This felt distinctly sexual and even more mutual. But it couldn’t be. Matt Chase could not be…holy shit was that his c**k poking into her belly?

“…a movie? Watch it at my place? Your place? Any place?”

“Huh?” God, he’d been speaking and she missed three quarters of it. The grin he sent her in response was so wicked an involuntary moan slipped from her lips.

“Would you like to come back to my apartment now? Have a drink or kiss? A lot?”

“Don’t tease me like this, it’s not nice.” She tried to push away from him but he wouldn’t let her go.

“I’m not teasing you, Tate. God, you have no idea how much I want you.” He rolled his hips. “Here’s a little clue though.”

“I don’t know.”

“I do. Come on. Your place. Your rules. I promise to behave. Or well, to not push but I don’t want to leave your company just yet and I’d really like to be alone with you.” His lips skimmed over hers briefly and her resistance melted.

He reached into his pocket and tossed a wad of cash onto the table before all but pulling her outside into the warm June air.

At her car he stopped and spun her into his embrace, watching the way her skirt swirled around her legs. “I love this dress. And this color, it reminds me of orange sherbet. I do so love to eat orange sherbet.”

She swallowed and felt like Alice fallen down the rabbit hole. Was Matt Chase rubbing his c**k on her and inviting her to make out? She must have hit her head or something. It had to be a dream.

“I…this is a bad idea. You can’t really want to hang out with me. You just feel guilty or something. Why would you want me like this?”

Matt exhaled in frustration. His damned c**k was so hard it throbbed. It sure as hell didn’t feel guilt. He wanted to f**k her so badly he was just barely holding himself together. Grinding his c**k into her body, he felt triumphant when her eyes partially closed with pleasure. “I want to. I feel several things, Tate. Turned on. Hot for you. Desperately in dire need to kiss you. I want to touch you and be alone with you. I really truly do. Guilt isn’t on the list of things I’m feeling for you.” He grinned and she gave him a small smile in return.

She paused for long moments and finally nodded. “All right. You can follow me home then.”

He’d been driving to his parents’ from that f**ked up scene and her hair caught his eye as he’d spotted her through the windows at The Sands. A brief phone call to his mother to say he wasn’t going to make it and he’d headed toward her. It wasn’t like he could have done anything else. She called to him.

Feeling like a teenager, Matt’s hands shook as he drove to her house. Not a bad neighborhood. Not fabulous but solid working class. He knew which one was hers even before she turned into the driveway. The little bungalow was unique, just like she was.

He parked and tried not to shove her to her front door and pin her to the first available surface. Instead he took her hand, smiling at her that she’d waited at her car for him.

“It’s a bit of a mess. I left in a hurry earlier today.” She fumbled with the lock and her scent hit him hard when the door swung open. He couldn’t even pinpoint what she smelled like, it wasn’t perfume, she seemed too much a ball of raw energy to take the time to dab a bit of scent behind her ears. It reminded him of earth, not dirt, not musk, but vibrant, essential, heady.

“I like it. It feels like you in here. Colorful.” He looked around and took the place in. Bright framed prints hung on her walls. “Frida Kahlo right?” He motioned toward one of the prints.

She nodded with a smile. “I love her stuff. Her husband, Diego Rivera got more attention but I think her art is startling and disturbing as well as just plain gorgeous.”