Two Wrongs (Meant To Be 1)

He releases a disbelieving laugh. “Who the—” That’s all he gets out before I lift him by the back of his collar, satisfaction spreading through me at the strangled squeak of panic I hear as I shove him toward the door listening to the sweet, cherry-pie giggle coming from my future wife.

“Sorry.” He gives me a pathetic attempt at a stare down so I step toward him and he shrinks back, repeating his apology with a bit more sincerity. “Sorry.”

I grab him again, smashing his face against the Zagat sticker and Amex logo on the glass door. “Get the fuck out.”

And with one final shove, he’s scampering across the parking lot, ass cheeks clenched, looking like he’s about to shit his pants.

All eyes are on me as I run my tongue over my teeth and re-focus on what’s important.

Cherry-pie-sweet-cheeks.

The whispers and hisses from the other patrons disappear into the sound of blood rushing in my ears.

Her head is in her hands. Her fingertips are on her forehead, her thumbs pressing into the creamy pink flesh just under her cheekbones. Her nails are painted the same brilliant red as her lipstick. An invisible force tugs me forward and wonder why the fuck she would need a dating site.

Doesn’t matter. She won’t be on there ever again. I’ll destroy her fucking computer if necessary. Smash her cell phone and give her a new one with only my information programmed in.

The jealousy and possessiveness boiling inside me are not just out of character, they’re borderline psychotic. But fuck it. I don’t even know her name, but I already know she’ll be taking mine, and the sooner the better.

I’m a logical guy. Not emotional.

But with this girl?

Pure emotion. Nothing but want and need.

And a hard-on that won’t quit. Throbbing, ball busting, teenage, out of control boner.

“You okay?” I set my jaw and fight the urge to throw her over my shoulder and march us out of here to get my first taste of her in the back of my Mercedes.

“I mean,” she raises her head, narrowing her eyes. “I signed up for a date with an insurance salesman. Not a retired MMA fighter with a white-knight complex. But yeah, you know. Doing fine.” She gives me a sexy little glare and an a-okay sign.

Her cute-as-fuck temper only makes me harder. The tent in my pants must be visible now from space but I don’t give a shit. Let people look.

But, more importantly, let her look. She should know what’s coming for her very soon. Pun intended.

The room calms as I settle in across from her, licking my lips as I take in her soft peaches-and-floral scent.

“I know how to fix this,” I offer as she raises her wide sparkling hazel eyes to meet mine. Her long lashes fluttering a few times as she takes a breath, her cheeks ripe and glowing pink.

“Not sure there’s a fix for this.” She smirks, her tongue slipping over her lush, red bottom lip.

Christ. My dick weeps in pain. I wave at the waitress and crook my fingers for her to come my way. “You’re going to let me try.”

“That doesn’t sound like a question.”

I lean my forearms on the table. “It’s not.”

Then I smile, reaching across the table and slipping her fingers into mine.

I have to touch her. My claiming has begun.

CHAPTER 4

Tor

“I stand corrected. Things feel very fixed,” she says as she takes the last bites of the panna cotta and sips the Satin Angel drink I ordered to go with it. “Nothing like a sugar buzz and Frangelico to right all the wrongs of a bad date.”

"You won’t have to worry about any more of those.” I add watching her eyes narrow as I reach up and run the pad of my thumb over her bottom lip, pulling it down as I go, pausing to meet her eyes for a beat longer than necessary, then withdraw my hand bringing my thumb to my mouth.

I hold her eyes as I suck it between my lips savoring the flavor before withdrawing as her lips fall open.

“I’ve tasted the panna cotta here many times before,” I tell her. “It never tasted this good.”

She considers that for a moment, sitting up in her seat and wiggling her ass which is cute as hell. Her eyes keep wandering to my mouth, my chest, and the spot on the table right above where my cock is trying its damnedest to get to her.

“Do you actually say things like that to women? Because, that uptight red sequin mermaid you were with earlier sure beat it out of here in a hurry. So, no offense, but you are already suspect.” She shakes her head, the little loops of her hair pinned in place bobbing a little as she does. She slips the spoon covered in the last bits of the dessert down onto her tongue, her lips closing around it, then closes her eyes and drags it out so slowly I nearly jizz in my fucking boxers. When she’s done making me lose my mind, she opens her eyes and finishes with, “You, sir, are suspect.”