Tied to His Betrayal (Dirty Little Secrets 2)

“Speaking of meetings.” She glances at her watch. “I better get back, too. Being late will get me in trouble.”

“You’re standing here with this boss,” I point out, arching a brow.

“Yes, I’m well aware,” she replies with a sassy grin, nudging my arm. “But let’s not create more office gossip than we’ve already got going on.”

“I suppose you’re right.” I lean in to kiss her on the cheek, but quickly think better of it and move away. “Later.”

Her brows rise above her dancing eyes. “Oh, now tell me again that you don’t find that a little depressing.”

I glance from left to right, seeing we’re very much alone at this moment, not a person in sight. “You’re right. Not kissing you is depressing.” I grab her hard, hearing her squeal, and plant a strong kiss upon her lips.

“Darius.” She gasps, jerking away.

I give her my best sensual grin and turn, leaving her standing there with her hand on her mouth, eyes wide, just the way I like her.

Flushed, aroused, and craving me.

Taylor

Later that day, and with my workday well behind me, I arrive at the redbrick building on the corner of the street, standing there utterly shocked. “This cannot be real,” I whisper to myself, gaping at the bright neon sign glowing in the night.

“Surprised?” A low smooth voice shivers across me.

I glance over my shoulder, finding Darius wearing blue jeans that are snug against his thick thighs and a fitted white T-shirt. Dear God, every inch of him is fuckable. In a suit, he’s magnificent. Out of it, he’s simply just hot as hell.

When I look back into his eyes, I find them burning with desire, and I smile, feeling the same desire fill me, too. “Not only surprised,” I admit. “I’m completely shocked shitless.” My favorite restaurant ever still stands like it hasn’t changed at all in five years. “How did this place not get demolished?”

He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets, glancing at the restaurant behind me. “Looks like they renovated, if you ask me.”

Yeah, it certainly does. Years back, the bricks had been cracked, with even some missing. Now it actually seems out of place, far newer than the other buildings on the street.

Darius’s low chuckle sounds behind me when I move forward and open the door, but I’m too focused on what’s ahead of me to comment on his laughter. I rush inside and squeak in joy, seeing the fifties memorabilia covering every square inch of the walls. Greasy burgers, thick strawberry milkshakes, nothing has ever compared to my love for the fifties-style diner in Lower Nob Hill. “You’re right.” I spin around to Darius, finding him standing in the doorway grinning at me. “Somehow they’ve made this place even better than I remember.”

He shakes his head slowly. “I’ve never seen anyone so excited to eat at such a dive in my life.”

I smack his arm in my defense. “It’s not a dive. It’s the bestest restaurant of all time.”

He doesn’t even flinch; obviously my smack feels like a feather to him, and he laughs. “That’s quite the adjective.”

“Yes, it is. And”—I smile at him—“it’s the bestest adjective ever and perfectly explains my love for this restaurant.”

His mouth twitches, eyes twinkle, when a high-pitched feminine voice says, “Hello, Mr. Bennett and Ms. Erickson, will you please follow me.”

I spin around, finding a cute-as-a-button waitress wearing a blue dress with a red apron, dark hair pulled into a high bun on top of her head. “Thank you,” I say to her before giving Darius a look. Obviously, he alerted them to our coming here tonight.

He grins at me.

I follow behind the server, seeing her tight butt swaying back and forth, and I begin to wonder why I liked this place so much. But one good inhale of all that grease around me reminds me of the perfection soon coming my way. Even so, I glance over my shoulder, because that butt looks a little too good for my liking. Though one look into Darius’s eyes, and my heart dances.

I’m on his mind, not her. There’s something very special about being the center of Darius’s attention, something so very addictive.

The waitress sits us at a booth with the blinds drawn, and it’s in that second I realize how alone we are in this restaurant. Too alone. Too quiet. I take my seat and accept the menu, and Darius does the same. Once the waitress hurries off, I voice my suspicions. “You made this happen tonight, didn’t you?”

“What did I make happen?” Darius asks, looking at his menu.

“You rented out the restaurant.” I wondered why he seemed so comfortable and not worried about being photographed. But now I know; tonight has been planned by Darius to the very minute.

A hint of a smile crosses his face. “Something like that.”