IT'S A DATE
The shrill sound of your iPhone alarm jolted you awake in your bed, and a wave of disappointment immediately washed over you. Last night felt like a dream—the perfect night with the man of your dreams. But this morning, reality hit hard. It was back to your dull, grey office job.
You groaned, silencing the alarm, and unlocked your phone. A missed call from Pedro caught your eye, and your heart skipped a beat. You quickly played the voicemail he’d left:
“Good morning, Lia,” his raspy morning voice murmured, deep and slow, and it sent heat rushing through your core. How could his voice alone turn you on like this? “I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night.”
The thought of Pedro lying in his bed, thinking about you, made your skin flush and your mind race. What exactly had he been thinking about? Was it sweet and flirty—or was it all the things he wanted to do to you if you’d gone home with him?
“I want to see you again,” his voice continued. “And I’ve been thinking about our future date. I’m busy filming this week, but production’s on break for the weekend. I hope you can make time for me on Friday. I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Talk to you soon.”
How were you supposed to wait until Friday? The thought of the long week ahead, paired with the anticipation of seeing him again, filled you with a mix of dread and excitement. Still, the promise of that date was motivation enough to get through it.
The days from Monday to Thursday passed in a blur, but Friday dragged on like molasses. Every glance at the clock felt like an eternity, and your heart fluttered with anticipation every time you thought about him.
Lucía called during your lunch break, and you eagerly shared the news about your date with Pedro.
“I’m so excited for you!” she said, her voice bubbly. “Boyd called me on Wednesday, and we went on a date last night. While I’m not ready to buy a gown or anything, he’s definitely someone I’ll be seeing again.”
You didn’t need her to say it outright—you could tell by her tone that she’d slept with him. You couldn’t help but be happy for her, especially since you hoped for a similar fate with Pedro.
When the clock finally hit quitting time, you rushed home, your excitement bubbling over as you started getting ready. But one thing stopped you—you had no idea what to wear. Unsure of where Pedro was taking you, you decided to text him.
You: Hey Pedro, where are we going tonight? I need to know what to wear lol.
A moment later, his reply came:
Pedro: I want to surprise you, but I’d love to see you in a dress. Those legs of yours shouldn’t be hidden.
His boldness sent a thrill through you, and you didn’t mind it one bit. If anything, it reassured you that he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.
You: Okay <3
Pedro: I’ll pick you up at 8 p.m.
Your stomach fluttered as you stared at the messages. Tonight couldn’t come fast enough.
You jumped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over your skin as your thoughts drifted to Pedro. Tonight wasn’t just about a date—you had every intention of letting things go further. As you shaved your legs meticulously, your mind wandered to the way his hands might feel on them later, igniting a deep ache of anticipation.
After drying off, you headed to your closet, determined to make him lose his composure the moment he saw you. You chose a black satin dress that screamed sex appeal while maintaining an air of elegance. The fabric clung to your curves, highlighting your breasts and hips, and flared just enough to move enticingly with every step. Standing in front of the mirror, you couldn’t help but admire yourself—tonight, you looked irresistible.
At your vanity, you added the final touches: sharp winged eyeliner and a bold red lip. You knew it was risky considering your plans to kiss him—*and probably more*—but this was a long-lasting formula you trusted. It was chilly out, so you draped a fur shawl over your shoulders and waited for Pedro, your pulse quickening with every passing second.
When your phone buzzed, you saw his name light up the screen. You answered instantly.
“Hello,” you said, your voice dripping with sultry intent.
“Hi, beautiful,” his deep voice rumbled, sending a shiver down your spine. “I just wanted to confirm—was it apartment 1123?”
“Yes,” you replied softly, trying to sound casual despite the heat pooling low in your stomach.
“Okay, I’m here.”
You hung up, heart pounding, and opened the door. There he was, looking like a sin you were more than willing to commit. His loose-fitting slacks sat low on his hips, and his black button-up shirt, adorned with gold embellishments on the collar, hinted at effortless sophistication. He held out a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses wrapped in white tissue paper.
“You look amazing,” he said, his eyes raking over your body in a way that made your core tighten.
“So do you,” you replied, a flush creeping up your neck. “And thank you for the flowers—they’re beautiful.”
“I know they’re a bit cliché,” he said with a smirk, “but I’m old school like that.”
“I love them,” you assured him, setting them on the countertop before turning back to him. “Ready to go?”
“Wait,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I just need to look at you one more time.”
Blushing, you gave him a slow, deliberate spin, feeling his gaze burn into you. His eyes stopped at your lips, and he bit his own, making your stomach flutter.
“Your lips,” he said, his tone low and thick with desire.
“Is it too much?” you asked, your voice suddenly breathy.
“They’re perfect,” he said, cutting you off, his intensity leaving you flushed.
He took your hand and led you to his car—a vintage convertible Porsche with the top down. The cold air bit at your skin, but the thrill of the ride, and the way his hand rested firmly on your thigh, was more than enough to keep you warm. His touch sent electric shivers through you, making you ache for more as his thumb traced slow circles over your skin.
When you arrived at a stunning Italian restaurant, you couldn’t hide your surprise. It was far more upscale than anywhere you’d ever been, and the way he pulled out your chair only added to the charm.
Over dinner, the conversation started light but quickly grew deeper.
“I want to know more about you,” Pedro said, leaning forward, his gaze unwavering.
“There’s not much to know,” you said, laughing softly. “My life isn’t all that exciting.”
He tilted his head, unconvinced, as you spoke about your academic journey and university experiences. He listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours, and his thoughtful questions made you feel like the most captivating woman in the world.
“Okay, enough about me,” you finally said, shifting the focus. “I really want to know about you.”
“Well, I’m an actor,” he said with a small smile. “I’ve been working on *Narcos* for the past year. I’m originally from Chile.”
Though you sensed there was much more to him than he let on, you didn’t want to push.
As your food arrived, the conversation slowed, replaced by the growing tension between you. His eyes lingered on your lips as you sipped your wine, and when your foot accidentally brushed against his leg under the table, he stiffened slightly before a wicked grin spread across his face.
You smiled innocently, though your heart was racing, and continued eating. Every glance between you was charged, and the air felt heavy with anticipation.
When the meal was over, Pedro paid the bill without hesitation, his dominance sending a rush of heat through you.
“Where to next?” you asked, your voice teasing and flirtatious.
He leaned closer, his eyes dark with intent. “Would you like to come to my place for a drink?”
Your mind screamed, *YES, PLEASE, I’D DO ANYTHING TO BE ALONE WITH YOU RIGHT NOW,* but you forced yourself to play it cool.
“I’d like that,” you replied softly, a sly smile curling at the corners of your lips.