"Eric," Amber said with a lilt to her voice, "You'll give me ideas." In fact, he already was, with his wide grin and the glint in his eyes. His tone, low and animated, made her think of promises breathed out between kisses, of whispered dirty talk. She flushed, arousal surging within. There was no reason why they couldn't, a bathroom could do, or even-- she took in a sharp breath. "Or is that your intention?"

She brought the glass to her lips, carefully gauging his reaction. All she needed was the slightest encouragement, a sign that he wouldn't dig in his heels and protest that wasn't what he'd meant; repeating last time's rejection wouldn't do.

The wine was rich and its oak aroma only intensified her desire. How good it'd be to kiss him, tasting the wine on his lips, to take this heat building up inside her and share it with him, creating fire between them. Getting caught barely crossed her mind. It seemed too remote a chance, and that even if someone did find them and want to report the police, there were ways to wriggle oneself out of trouble. Money, cajoling, threats, flirting, these all could solve most problems. But they wouldn't get caught, and she'd love to have him here. The wine she'd sipped radiated within her, spreading warmth and confidence.

In encouragement, Amber slipped her hand beneath the table, massaging his knee lightly. It was as far as she could go with her hands, but she was creative: she knew other ways to reach further, and the tablecloth would hide anything she did. “Or have you become too good a boy to take a risk?”