Free Porter (Dick Dynasty #1) by David Michael

firm handshake. Her grip provided a sharp contrast to the sensation of her painfully soft skin beneath my fingertips.
    The sensation shot a jolt of pure desire up my arm and straight to my groin.
    “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
    Such a lame fuck.
    “It’s no trouble.”
    Harsh.
    She released my hand and sat down across from the table as the waiter returned with two glasses of ice water.
    “Thank you,” she nodded politely to the waiter, causing her hair to swing forward from where it had been neatly tucked behind her ear. Something inside of me wanted to reach out and smooth it back into place.
    I was thankful I had refrained when she returned her gaze to me. I could practically see her walls slide into place as the ice replaced the warmth that had been bestowed upon our server.
    “Why am I here, Porter?”
    Her question caught me off guard and I could do nothing but stare at her in response.
    “We both know you didn’t agree to one of the most expensive restaurants south of San Francisco just to apologize for breaking my martini glass. I might not be as worldly as you are in some aspects, but I am far from stupid.”
    I had the good sense to at least pretend I was offended.
    “Holly, believe it or not, there are good people in the world who do things for others just for the sake of doing the right thing. Not all of us have to find a motive to justify spending time with another person.”
    A glimmer of fire lit behind the glaciers in her pupils.
    “I don’t doubt that for an instant, Porter. What I do doubt is the fact that you are one of those people.”
    I didn’t have to act offended after that jab.
    “You don’t know me at all, Holly. Who the hell are you to decide what kind of person I am?”
    I could feel the steel of my own walls slide into place as I met her frigid gaze and furrowed my brow. People who do know me had said far worse things about me without it getting under my skin. And she wasn’t entirely wrong, either, but for some reason the idea of her thinking so little of me without reason made me want to prove her wrong.
    “This was a bad idea,” she grabbed her purse off the bench at her side and stood, “I’m gonna go. Sorry for wasting your time.”
    “Sit down, Holly.” The words came out as a command instead of a request, as I had meant them. She fell back into the booth and stared at me as if I had just pulled a gun on her.
    “Stay,” I forcibly softened my voice, “Have dinner with me. We’re both adults here and I’d like to think we’re both capable of making it through a single meal without maiming one another.”
    A cool mask of professionalism quickly replaced the look of surprise on her face. She calmly set her purse beside her and reached for her water cup, “Of course.”
    There was something about the way she held eye contact as she drank from the glass that unnerved me. She didn’t even blink as her hazel eyes bore into mine; assessing, devouring, almost predatory.
    Maybe I underestimated you, Holly Nash.
    I returned the stare, feigning ignorance and doing my best to plaster a patient, unassuming look on my face. I wanted her to think I was just waiting for her to finish. I didn’t want her to know that I was watching her swallow down the water and imagining that it was my dick sliding down her throat.
    I could feel myself stiffen with each gulp she took and nearly cheered when she finally put the half-empty glass back on the table. I probably would have if her tongue hadn’t darted out to clear her lips of any remaining fluid as she gasped for air. That quick flash of pink between her teeth sealed the deal she had no idea she had entered into with my libido.
    “So you’re just a nice person, trying to do the right thing. Righting a wrong and fighting social injustice one dinner date at a time. Who knew?”
    I was ready for it that time and kept my guard up. I put on my best smile and shrugged my shoulders, trying for nonchalant, “I don’t see why