Get on your hands and knees. I'm going to take you from behind.
Not to mention the bossiness. It should have annoyed me—this wasn't a gentlemanly invitation, it was an order—and yet I felt giddy. I could see Matt again. I could make sure he was real and that this was actually happening to me.
And maybe this time I could act like the smart, confident woman I was, not the blushing brainless mush of last night.
I spent the next hour and a half prepping. I unpacked a few boxes of clothes, showered and shaved, borrowed some of my sister's perfume and makeup, and dressed in a short strapless blue dress. Underneath, I wore a strapless gray pushup with creamy trim and a matching thong. At the last minute I threw on dangly earrings and a silver bracelet.
Matt arrived promptly at seven. I peeked at him from a front window. He stood leaning against his car, looking bored.
Holy. Fuck.
He wore pale gray slacks and a crisp white dress shirt. His wild hair was wet and pushed back. As I studied him, he glanced at his watch, then smirked toward the house.
Fuck, he looked right at me! I lurched away from the blinds. So uncool right now.
When I went out to meet him, I thought I saw his cocky smirk falter. Success! Maybe. It was hard to tell. Matt's smirks came in flavors—two parts kindness, one part wicked amusement, a little lust in the mix. Oh, and one hundred percent smug bastard.
Matt moved to meet me and I thought he might grab me and start groping my ass again. I wanted him to, even if Chrissy was watching from her window. Matt looked edible in dress clothes.
Instead, he hugged me gently and kissed my cheek. The air went out of my lungs. Oh lord, the way that shirt tucked into his slacks, showing off his trim hips. I caught a whiff of cologne.
When he opened the door for me, I nearly fell into his car. Déjà vu.
"There's a place in Boulder I like," Matt said as he drove. He stared ahead, serious and unsmiling. Totally unlike the man who'd driven me for hours through the nighttime prairie. "The Number Nine. Great food. I hate formal stuff, but what the hell."
I frowned at him.
"So what, you're just doing this for me?"
"Sure." He glanced at his iPhone. "I figured you'd like a meal."
"Well that's kind of shitty Matt," I snapped.
"Excuse me?" He was scrolling through his Pandora stations and driving too fast, with an unnerving amount of inattention. He didn't even look at me.
"I'm not some idiot girl you have to wine and dine before fucking. God, I'm sorry you feel the need to endure a nice dinner with me."
Matt chuckled. What a prick!
"Hannah, I enjoy eating." He'd settled on music. I recognized The Lumineers. Of course this jackass had great taste in music. "And I'll enjoy eating with you. I only meant that formal things... make me uneasy, okay? Don't worry, we'll do something I really enjoy afterward."
He reached for my hand. I held it stiff on my lap for all of three seconds.
"I love when you're feisty," Matt murmured. He pulled my hand onto his lap and pressed it against his thigh. Oh god, oh god, not again. I felt my ability to articulate myself gliding away. "You look amazing, Hannah. I know you want to get fucked, wearing a dress like that. I'll deliver, don't worry. I held back last night, but not this time. You're bad to wear that. I love it."
Matt slid my hand a little closer to his cock and left it there. He was watching the road with a stony expression. He reached over and squeezed one of my breasts, slipping a few fingers into my cleavage. I heated from head to toe.
"Matt," I squeaked. Cars were passing us and we were passing them, and I knew people must have seen Matt with his hand on my breast.