“Are you busy this coming week?” Viggo asks after a couple more minutes of comfortable silence. He reaches over the middle console and lays his hand on my leg; its warmth and weight sends a shiver up my thigh and into my loins.
“Nothing more than work and the gym. Why?”
“There’s the matter of the dinner.” He grins. “I dohave a previous engagement tonight. I wasn’t saying it to blow you off.”
“I figured. You don’t act like you want to get rid of me.” I lay my hand on top of his. He slides his hand—taking mine with it—further up my thigh until it’s resting dangerously close to my dick. He splays his fingers until his pinky is mere millimetersaway from it. His touch, his words, his smile are adding more kindling to the fire already burning deep in my belly, and I grab the seat with my free hand to stop myself from grinding against his hand.
“You’re driving me crazy,” I rasp, barely recognizing my own voice.