Chapter 37 You know what I need
~Sage~
The car purred to life and pulled away from the estate, leaving the pack house behind until its lights were just a distant glow in the rearview mirror. Keith drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console between us. After a few minutes, that hand found my thigh.
I inhaled sharply as his palm settled against my skin. The slit in my dress had fallen open when I sat down, exposing my leg almost to the hip, and he took full advantage. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my inner thigh, each stroke venturing slightly higher than the last.
"You followed my instructions," he murmured, his eyes still on the road.
I swallowed hard. "What instructions?"
His hand slid higher, and his fingertips brushed against the inner curves of my thighs. It was gone in an instant, but it was enough to confirm what he already knew.
"Nothing underneath," he said, satisfaction dripping from every word. "Good girl."
The praise made something flutter in my stomach. I pressed my thighs together involuntarily, and he chuckled.
"Don't hide from me, Cinderella."
His hand pressed gently against my knee, urging my legs apart. I resisted for a moment, some last shred of modesty protesting even though we were alone in the car. But his fingers were insistent, and eventually I let him guide my thighs open again.
He rewarded me by stroking higher, his touch feather-light against my sensitive skin. But he never went where I wanted him most. He stayed at the edges, teasing, tormenting, driving me slowly out of my mind.
"Keith," I breathed, not sure if it was a plea or a warning.
"Be patient." His voice was calm, controlled, completely at odds with the way his touch was making me feel. "We have all night."
The drive lasted about thirty minutes, though it felt like an eternity. By the time Keith pulled the car to a stop, I was trembling with need. Every nerve in my body was alight, and the ache between my thighs had grown desperate.
He removed his hand from my leg, and I almost whimpered at the loss.
"We're here," he said simply.
I looked up and saw that we had stopped outside a restaurant. It was tucked away on a quiet street. The sign above the door was small and understated, the name written in a script so delicate I couldn't read it from the car.
Keith came around to open my door, offering his hand to help me out. When I stood, my legs were shaky, and he noticed. His lips curved into a knowing smile.
"Careful," he murmured. "I need you able to walk, at least for now."
I shot him a glare that had no heat behind it, and he laughed softly as he led me toward the entrance.
The inside of the restaurant was even more beautiful than the outside. Exposed walls hung with tasteful artwork, tables draped in white linen, candles flickering on every surface. The lighting was dim and intimate, designed to make the rest of the world disappear.
But the strangest thing was the emptiness.
Every table was vacant. Every chair sat unoccupied. There were no other diners. The entire restaurant was completely, utterly empty except for us.
"Keith," I said slowly. "Where is everyone?"
He guided me toward a table in the center of the room, pulling out my chair and waiting for me to sit. Then he settled into the seat across from me, his eyes never leaving my face.
"I bought out the restaurant for the night," he said casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "I wanted you all to myself."
My jaw dropped. "You bought out the entire restaurant?"
"I wanted privacy." He shrugged, that dangerous smile playing at his lips again. "Money well spent, I'd say."
A waiter appeared as if from nowhere, silent and professional, filling our glasses with wine before disappearing again. I took a sip just to have something to do with my hands, the rich flavor blooming across my tongue.
"This is insane," I said. "You know that, right?"
"Probably." He leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed. "But I don't care."
The meal that followed was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Course after course of exquisite food, each one more delicious than the last. Keith had clearly coordinated with the chef ahead of time, because every dish was something I loved. Pasta with truffle cream sauce. Seared scallops that melted on my tongue. A chocolate dessert so rich it should have been illegal.
Throughout it all, Keith watched me eat with an intensity that made my skin prickle. He barely touched his own food, too focused on my reactions. Every time I closed my eyes in pleasure at a particular bite, his gaze darkened. Every soft sound of appreciation that escaped my lips made his jaw tighten.
By the time dessert was cleared away, the tension between us had built to something unbearable.
"Dance with me," Keith said suddenly.
I blinked at him. "There's no music."
He pulled out his phone and pressed a button. A moment later, soft jazz began to play through hidden speakers, filling the empty restaurant with warm, sultry notes.
"There's always music," he said, rising from his chair and extending his hand. "You just have to know where to find it."
I let him pull me to my feet and lead me to the open space between the tables. His hand settled on my lower back, right at the base of my spine, while the other took my hand and held it against his chest.
We began to move together, swaying slowly to the rhythm of the music. His thigh pressed between mine with every step, creating friction that made it impossible to think clearly. My dress slid against my body with each movement, reminding me that there was nothing between us but that dress.
"You're trembling," Keith observed, his lips brushing against my ear.
"You know why."
"Tell me anyway."
I pulled back just enough to look at his face. His eyes were dark with desire, his jaw clenched with the effort of holding himself back. He wanted me just as badly as I wanted him. But he was in control.
"Because you've been teasing me all night," I whispered. "Because every time you touch me, I want more. Because right now all I can think about is how good it would feel to have your hands on me, not these little touches that drive me crazy without giving me what I need."
His hand on my back slid lower, cupping my ass. "What do you need, Cinderella?"
"You know what I need."
"Say it."
I bit my lip, my cheeks burning. He wanted me to beg. He wanted to hear the words fall from my lips, wanted to watch me surrender completely to the desire he had been stoking all evening.
"I need you to touch me," I whispered. "Please, Keith. I'm aching."
A low growl rumbled in his chest. His hand tightened on my ass, pressing me closer until I could feel the hard length of him against my stomach. He wanted this just as badly as I did. The evidence was right there.
But instead of giving me what I asked for, he simply held me. Swaying to the music. Letting the tension build and build until I thought I might burst into flames.
"Not yet," he murmured against my hair. "I'm not done with you yet."
We danced through three more songs. Each one slower than the last. Each one driving me further toward the edge of madness. By the time the music finally faded, I was clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping me upright.
Which, in fairness, he probably was.
Keith pulled back and looked at me with eyes that burned like embers in the candlelight.
"The night isn't over," he said softly. "There's somewhere else I want to take you. Somewhere we can be completely alone."
"Where?"
He smiled that slow, dangerous smile that made my toes curl in my stilettos.
"That, Cinderella, is a surprise."
He took my hand and led me toward the door, leaving the empty restaurant behind. The night air was cool against my heated skin as we stepped outside, and I shivered for reasons that had nothing to do with the temperature.
Keith opened the car door for me, waiting while I slid inside. But before he closed it, he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine in a kiss that stole what little breath I had left.
"The next part of our evening," he whispered against my mouth, "is going to test every ounce of control I have. I hope you're ready."
He straightened and shut the door, leaving me alone in the car with my racing heart and my desperate body and the burning question of where he was taking me next.