“So do you like foreign movies then?” she whispered as he pulled open the door to their screening.

“Nope.”

“Then why are we here?”

Instead of answering he led her to the back row and sat her down. The movie had already started and there were a dozen people in the rows in front of them.

There were five rows between them and the person closest to them.

Bailey stared up at the screen where an Audrey Hepburn–type girl was riding her bike through the streets of some French town. Subtitles popped up on the screen as the girl apparently narrated the story. “Oh, God.” Bailey grimaced.

Vaughn hid a smile and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “You’re too far away.”

“I’m right next to you,” she whispered back.

“Sit on my lap.”

“What?” She reared back in confusion.

And that’s when he let his intentions blaze in his eyes. “Sit on my lap, princess,” he whispered.

Her chest started to rise and fall as she tried to catch her breath. “You don’t . . . ?”

Taking her hand, he guided his dazed woman off her seat and onto his lap so she was facing the screen. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she cuddled back into him. His dick delighted in the feel of her small, beautiful ass and strained to get closer to it.

His heart started to beat hard and fast.

To the outside observer it appeared as if they were just cuddling in to watch the movie.

After what felt like much too long listening to Bailey attempt to control her excited breathing, he whispered in her ear, “You cannot make a noise.”

She swallowed and nodded slowly. Vaughn pressed a kiss against her throat, finding her pulse and smiling at the discovery hers was racing, too.

“Watch the movie.”

She nodded again.

His dick got even harder in anticipation of what was about to happen.

Smoothing his hand down her thigh, he slipped it under the hem of her skirt and back up the inside of her leg.

Bailey reached to push her skirt back down, covering his wayward hand so no one could see should they walk by.

Her breath stuttered as his fingertips grazed her inner thigh and faltered at the feel of her underwear.

French dialogue became buzzing background noise as the theater melted away until it was just the two of them. All he could hear was her soft, shallow breaths, all he could feel was her, and all he could smell was the fruity scent of her hair.

“Vaughn,” she whispered.

“Shh,” he warned, “or I’ll stop.”

He knew her well enough to know the sudden rigid line of her back meant she was annoyed, and she was probably biting her lip so she didn’t call him a bastard. Holding back his amusement, he slid his hand upward over her panties and then under them. Vaughn had to bite back his groan as his index and middle finger found her already wet. Hitting target on her clit, he circled it lightly, torturing her a little.

Bailey gently undulated on his lap, her little gasp sounding far too loud to his ears. He stopped fondling her, and she turned her head to glare at him.

In answer he kissed her, deep and wet, his tongue mimicking what his dick would like to be doing right that second. When he pulled back he muttered against her mouth, “Keep quiet or I stop.”

She nodded, her breath ragged against his lips.

“Watch the movie, princess.”

He waited for her to turn back to stare at the screen and then he started circling her clit with his fingers again, the pressure light, and not nearly enough.

She told him this in the way she impatiently moved on his lap, her ass pressing hard on his erection, stroking it with each tiny undulation until he was desperate to sink into her. He held his own needs at bay and slid his fingers down inside her. The angle didn’t provide deep penetration, it was more torment than anything for her, and he made it worse by brushing his lips against her ear. “I wonder if any of them suspect that there’s a man finger-fucking his woman in the back row.”

Bailey whimpered and bit her lip harder, and he rewarded her by moving his thumb to her clit with more pressure this time. The hand still at her waist crept upward and he started to massage her breast, squeezing it the way she liked it, as he continued to stimulate her.

Vaughn’s chest started to pump harder as he felt how soaked she was, how fucking excited she was by this, and he marveled at his good luck to fall in love with a woman so sexually in tune with him.

“Vaughn.” Her soft gasp warned him, as did the tightening of her body. She turned toward him and he pressed her head to his throat, muffling her moan against his skin as she shuddered through her climax.

The man in the row nearest to them turned around and in the light of the screen Vaughn saw the stranger’s suspicion.

“I think we better go,” he whispered, trying not to laugh.

Bailey lifted her head. “Why?”

“We might have been foiled.”

Her eyes widened and she whipped around to stare. She tensed against him. “Oh. Yeah, let’s go.” She reached for her bag and slowly stood up, leaving Vaughn pondering his problem:

The very noticeable erection in his lap.

Bailey frowned at him. “What?” she whispered.

He gestured to his lap.

“Oh. Right.” She giggled, which earned them a “shh” from Mr. Suspicious five rows ahead. “Walk behind me.”

Vaughn rolled his eyes at her suggestion but got up. When she reached for his hand, he muttered, “Princess, you touching me will get in the way of me trying to get rid of this thing.”