Two Wrongs (Meant To Be 1) - Page 6

She points the spoon my way, but all it does is draw my eyes to her chest. Tits with hard little nubs strain against the red satin and they are a perfect handful size. My dick is already throbbing and pre-cum oozing as I think about that candy coating I know is hot and slick between her delicious, thick thighs.

I don’t bother telling her I’ve never said anything like that to a woman before in my life. I let her have her little sassy moment. I’ll give her the power.

This once.

It only makes me want her more, and the last twenty minutes watching her eat the dessert only solidified her fate, even if she has no idea.

The way she took each bite like it was life-changing was better than any porn ever made. Matter of fact, I’ve never found porn enticing. But I’ve found my own personal Pornhub and her name is…

Fuck.

I don’t even know her fucking name.

“Well.” She does this little lip-popping thing she’s done a couple times already, so fucking cute, and the lines in her forehead furrow.

Her happy focus is gone and I hate it. She’s distressed or afraid, and I want to kill someone.

“What’s wrong?” I demand, like it’s a cross examination, my need to know her name forgotten for the moment replaced with the blinding need to solve every problem in her life.

“Nothing.” She shakes her head, eyes down as she tries to put on a smile. I can already tell her real smile from her bullshit one and this one is full of it.

“Don’t lie. To me. Ever.”

I enunciate each word like a Mafia Don letting his minions know one step out of line and they’re sleeping with the fucking fishes. I’m not sure it’s the right move, because I see a flash of fear pass over her face.

I have to fucking remind myself that to her I’m a stranger—even though in my mind I’m already designing her ten-year anniversary ring and a trip to Cyprus for a month long stay at our second home.

“Come on,” I say, trying on some gentleness. I retrieve her hand again, and her eyes come back up. Fuck, I could fall into them right now and never escape. “What’s wrong.”

“I just…” She scans the room. “I need the manager.”

“Why? Is something wrong? Do you feel ill?” Panic needles up the back of my neck. The thought that’s she sick ignites a fear inside me I can’t ever remember having before.

She wiggles again in her seat and I recall what she said at the bar. There’s a shift in her demeanor. A little twitch above her left eyebrow.

“No, I feel fine.” Cool relief washes through me as she continues. “It’s just, that was like…he was supposed to pay and I…I need to get the manager to let me go to my car and see if my wallet—”

So now we’re full circle. “You think I’d offer to pay for your drink and not your dinner?” I growl and she falls silent, staring at me like she’s considering making a run for it.

Give it a try, little one. I love a good chase.

She never has to worry about paying for another thing, not here or anywhere else in her life.

“Come with me.” I push up from my chair and reach for her other hand before she can protest.

“Oh no you don’t. I’m not going to dine and dash with you, mister. I have to pay the bill. He ordered the most expensive thing on the menu.” She tugs one hand away, poking two fingers at her eyes and then swinging them back toward me. “See, I knew you were suspect!”

Her darting eyes and teeth in her lip tell me if I’m going to push it, she’d go full on with me and head for the door, ride or die all the way.

“Come on.” I pick up her blue bag off the back of the chair and secure it over my shoulder. I know generally women won’t go anywhere without their purse so it’s insurance in case she thinks she’s getting away from me.

“Wait.” She pulls away, drawing more glances from the patrons who are clearly waiting for act two to begin. She licks her lips, giving me a hard stare, then nods toward her purse over my shoulder those luscious red lips curling into a smile making my pulse race. “Blue is your color. Brings out the psychopath in your eyes.”

She’s chaos and perfection and I can’t wait to unravel all those messy layers. “You done?” I growl holding back a smile.

“Not even close. I’m never done.”

Fuck.

“I believe that.” I manage, my balls ready to heave as I tighten my fingers with hers.

A thousand burning questions spiral around inside me. Things I want to know. Need to know. But all that will have to wait, because right now I just need to get her out of this room and somehow secure her into my life without scaring the ever-loving shit out of her.

Tags: Dani Wyatt Meant To Be Romance
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