“Not on the first date,” she objects half-heartedly. There’s the controlled passion in her voice, even as she’s trying to push me away. I’m bigger and stronger and I’m not going anywhere.

“I can’t help myself. You taste like chocolate.” I give her another teasing kiss before paying and heading out.

I help her into the cab of my truck and shut the door behind her. The drive isn’t long, but it’s quiet. Too quiet.

“Let’s play red light twenty questions,” I say to her as I pull up to the stoplight.

“What’s red light twenty questions?”

“When we stop at a red light, you ask me as many questions as you can before it turns green. You can ask me anything and I have to answer honestly. Next red light is my turn. Whoever asks the most questions wins.”

“But it’s already halfway through this red light,” she objects.

“You better get going then,” I quip. She rolls her eyes but plays along anyway.

“Middle name?”

“Peter. That’s one.”

“Favorite color?”

“Green. Two.”

“Dogs or cats?”

“Dogs. Totally. Cats are assholes. Three.”

“Uhhh…”

“Come on, is that all you’ve got? Clock’s ticking, Goosey.”

Anger flashes behind her eyes. She’s a competitive one. I never would have guessed.

“Favorite movie?”

“Scarface. Say hello to my little friend.” I do my best Tony Montana impersonation. She’s unimpressed.

“Favorite holiday?”

“Holiday like vacation or holiday like Christmas?”

“Like Christmas and stop stalling, cheater!”

“Fourth of July.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Beer, barbecue and explosions. What’s not to love?” I skip the part where it’s one of the few holidays that the world doesn’t shit on people for having no family and no money. “But that doesn’t count as a question. You’re still at five.”

“Biggest pet peeve?”

I know instantly what my answer is, but I hesitate. The last thing I want is for her to ask follow-up questions. I debate lying to her, but I haven’t yet, so why start now.

“People who break promises.” My hands tighten on the steering wheel, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“Biggest turn-on?” she asks.

“Watching a beautiful woman come.” I peek over at her blushing cheeks. “I take that back. Making a beautiful woman come.”

She bites her bottom lip and looks away when I wink at her. Images of her naked body writhing in pleasure under me flash through my head, and I get hard again.

“Green light.” She points out of the windshield in front of us and refuses to meet my gaze.

“Lucky number seven. Not bad.”

“Would’ve been better if I’d gotten my full time.”

“Don’t pout. You might get another turn yet. We’ve got a few blocks to go.”

“I’m not pouting,” she says.

With a pout.

“Of course you’re not.”