I told myself all of that while focusing on taking deep breaths. It helped calm me a little, if not entirely.

Dean came striding through the lobby toward me a few minutes before we were supposed to meet. Jonas Pollard had presented me with an excessively generous gift card of a thousand dollars to cover our dinner after the company game the other night. He’d told me we needed to be in the lobby at seven sharp, because a black SUV was going to pick us up and take us to the restaurant.

Dean came right up to me, put a hand around my waist, and kissed me on the cheek. “You look amazing.”

I blushed so hard I thought I might get lightheaded. The only people watching were the two young receptionists at the front desk, who whispered and giggled something–probably about how hot Dean was.

“Nobody from work is watching,” I said. “You don’t need to pretend right now.”

“Who says I’m pretending? You obviously work for that body, and it looks amazing.”

I shot him a look. “Keep your eyes off my body.”

“What about my hands?” As smooth as silk, Dean slid a hand around the small of my waist. His pinky finger brushed the swell of my ass and made my skin erupt in goosebumps.

I wanted to say something clever and sassy, but all I managed was a choked. “No thank you.”

Grinning, he removed his hand and stuck his arm out for me to take. “Our car is out front. Shall we?”

Outside, the driver was already out and waiting with the back door open for us.

“Ma’am. Sir.” He said, gesturing for us to get inside.

We shimmied into the car and waited for the driver to come around to the front.

I felt a bundle of nerves in my chest and tried to tell myself to calm down again. I’d survived first contact, even if I could practically feel the burning imprint of where his finger has touched my ass. I wondered if he’d gotten hard, which led me down the unwise path of thinking he’d probably at least gotten a little hard when we kissed.

And then I had to remind myself that guys getting hard was about as consequential as the road getting wet when it rained. It didn’t mean they cared about you, loved you, or planned to treat you well.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean asked.

I shot him a look. Yes, I thought. I was just contemplating how many times your cock has gotten hard because of me and the implications of your erections. “What? Why?”

Instead of answering, he took my hand in his. “Give me a squeeze if you get nervous. I’ll cover for you.” He smiled reassuringly. None of his usual “fuck this, life is a game!” attitude was showing through. He looked sincere.

A gush of warmth toward him flowed through me, and I couldn’t even bring myself to jerk my hand out of his. I remembered how he said his little sister had anxiety. I could see how his presence had been reassuring for her now. I just hated that I felt so damn comforted by his big hand holding mine.