18. Chapter 17 #2
I stare at him, and I swear my heart trips over itself. He’s done all those things tonight, and now my mind reels with the question of whether all that was just for show as I’d assumed, or whether Ash really is trying to tell me he’s interested.
No, don’t be ridiculous, I chide myself. Fake dating needs to look convincing or it doesn’t work. I can’t let myself think the charade is real.
“So let’s say the thing with your neck got the guy’s attention,” Ash says, spearing a piece of steak with his fork. “What’s your next move?”
I shake myself back to reality and consider a moment.
Honestly, I’m not much of a flirt, so my arsenal isn’t big.
I might find a way to draw a man’s attention to my cleavage if I were wearing a different dress, but this one has too high a neckline.
It doesn’t matter, though. Ash and I are playing a game, so my next move can be something out-of-character. If he can pretend, then so can I.
I slip off my shoe on the side of the table facing the windows.
The tablecloth is long enough so no one should be able to see what I’m doing unless they’re looking for it, and I find Ash’s ankle under the table with my toes.
His legs are long, so he’s easy to reach, and I run the top of my foot up the inside of his calf outside his pants.
Ash’s knife screeches across his plate loudly, and my foot stops as he looks around and mumbles an apology to diners nearby. Thankfully, the tables are spaced relatively far apart in this area of the restaurant.
When the attention is off us again, I move my foot higher.
I reach his knee, then push my luck and start to slide my toes along the inside of his thigh.
His eyes flare, and I’m about to smile and withdraw my foot when he reaches under the table and grabs my ankle.
I jolt in surprise, and my gaze locks with his.
“I’m not sure doing something like that is a good idea,” he says, his voice taking on a huskiness that makes my stomach flutter.
“Why not?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
Ash’s thumb caresses back and forth against the inside of my ankle, and it’s all I can do not to whimper audibly.
“Well, if a woman ran her foot up my leg like that for real,” he says in a low voice, still gripping my ankle, “I might just snap and haul her into my lap, hike up her dress, and finger fuck her pussy until she screamed her orgasm in the middle of a Michelin Star restaurant.”
My jaw drops open, and Ash grins enough that his dimples appear.
“That seems like an extreme reaction to some teasing,” I say hoarsely, but, God help me, I can’t help picturing Ash doing it.
Ash shrugs. “I suppose it depends. If it was a woman I already spend half the daydreaming about fucking, maybe a little teasing like that would send me over the edge.”
My mouth works, trying to form words, but I have no idea what to say. My brain tries to convince me he’s still speaking in hypotheticals, but I know he’s not. The realization Ash Gunnarsson might actually want me has caused a complete system shutdown.
“I…,” I start to say but can’t get any farther.
“Are you ticklish?” Ash asks suddenly, and his other hand moves under the table to tickle the underside of my foot.
It takes all my self-control not to scream, but I jerk my foot so violently that my knee hits the underside of the table with a loud thud, and everything on it jumps. Mercifully, the wine glasses stay standing.
Once again, the eyes of a few diners swing our way, but Ash stops tickling me, and we both sit perfectly still until they look away again.
Finally, Ash lets go of my ankle, and I slip it back into my shoe.
“I…hate being tickled,” I say quietly.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, and I feel bad for saying anything.
God dammit. I need help here.
“I’ll be right back. I need to run to the ladies’ room,” I say as I rise from my seat and grab my clutch.
Ash looks alarmed.
“I’m not dining and dashing,” I assure him with a smile. “I swear. You’re my ride, and I’m too cheap to Uber.”
He looks at me as if gauging whether or not to believe me, then nods.
I hurry to the restroom and duck inside a stall. I was hoping to call Celena, but there are a couple women in the restroom with me, so I have to settle for texting instead.
Gray
Help. Ash bought me a bottle of wine that costs as much as my first car, and he just threatened to finger fuck me in the middle of the restaurant when I ran my foot up his leg.
I hit send on the text and pee while I’m waiting for a response. I’ve left out a lot of context, but I hit the important points.
My phone starts to ring, but I send it to voicemail and text Celena.
Gray
Can’t talk. Restroom is not secure.
The bouncing dots indicate Celena is typing, and her message comes through seconds later.
Celena
WTF Gray! You can’t send a message like that then tell me we can’t talk!
Gray
Sorry, can’t be helped. Wine isn’t the important part. We were teasing each other with hypotheticals, and I ran my foot up his leg. He said "hypothetically" if a woman did that to him on a real date, he’d pull her onto his lap and finger fuck her.
I hit send but then add another nugget.
Gray
Then he implied he thought about fucking me half the day.
A string of exploding-head emojis pop up on the screen.
Gray
What do I do?
I wait as the dots start bouncing again.
Celena
…Let him fuck you?
I push out a long breath and roll my eyes.
Gray
Not helpful.
Celena
I refer you to our earlier conversation about this.
Gray
I can’t have sex with him.
Celena
Why not?
My fingers hover above the screen, ready to type out my reply, but words elude me.
The usual arguments about ethics don’t seem relevant anymore.
We’ve told the world we’re dating, and nothing has collapsed.
I haven’t been given a scarlet letter to wear.
Everyone assumes we’re having sex anyway, so… Why not?
Gray
I have to get back. I’ll call you later when I’m home.
Celena
Yeah or, you know…tomorrow. If you end up being busy.
I roll my eyes again but send a thumbs up emoji and shove the phone back in my clutch. I let myself glance at the message app just close enough to see that there are no additional texts from Drew other than the first two, and I already promised myself I won’t answer them.
The world thinks I’m dating Ash, so I can’t even consider dating Drew, which is a good thing. Even responding to Drew’s texts to remind him I’m dating Ash is just playing with fire.
It hits me that we told Drew at the club we were dating, and he still texted to say he missed me. Even if he hasn’t seen the news, he’s choosing to ignore I’m dating Ash, or he doesn’t believe it, and now I’m pissed.
I leave the stall, wash my hands, and head back to Ash, suddenly feeling reckless.