“No,” I say after a pause. “What about forty-two? Is that too old?”
“No,” she says emphatically. “I don’t care about the age gap. I think it’s the person who matters, not a number.”
I nod in agreement, happy that my age isn’t something that will stand in our way.
“So…”
I gesture at the menu.
“Maybe a salad,” she murmurs. “My sister, Casey, back when she had time to date said she would always order a salad. She said she wanted her date to think of her as, I don’t know, making good life choices, I guess?”
A good life choice for my woman is to fuel her voluptuous body, to make sure she’s maintaining those hips and those breasts and that meaty ass. Keeping herself strong for when I fill her with my seed, that’s what she should be doing.
But again, I can’t phrase it that way.
“What do you want to order?” I ask.
“The steak,” she says at once. “With onion rings.”
“Then I’ll have the same. That way, you don’t get any silly ideas about eating salad.”
She giggles. “How is eating salad a silly idea, huh?”
“Look at this menu. They’ve even got delicious vegetarian options. But a plate of leaves, with a few extra leaves, chucked on top? That’s not my idea of a meal.”
She laughs, making my heart sing under the force of her presence. It’s the way the laughter seems to take her by surprise, her mouth flying open, flashing her enthralling smile.
“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” she says with a shade of irony. “I’ll never eat a salad again.”
I laugh along with her, our eyes meeting. And for a moment, time seems to stop. I’m sure I can read a message in her expressive eyes… that she wants to be with me forever, the same way I want her.
She’s ready. She doesn’t need to wait.
I don’t need to be afraid about her becoming unhinged, borderline obsessive, the way Lena did.
Except, no.
I want her to be as obsessed as I am.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Penny
“What was your childhood like?” I ask.
His knife pauses as he cuts into his steak. For a moment, I think he’s going to snap at me. Cruelly, I imagine him telling me that this is a pretend date, so we should keep the personal questions to a minimum.
It’s an unfounded and unfair fear since he point-blank told me he was attracted to me. I’m still reeling from that, struggling to accept a man like Preston could want a woman like me.
But then his body relaxes and he smirks, but there’s a glint in his eyes, somehow suggesting pain. It’s like there’s a darkness behind the face he presents to the world, an inner maelstrom that nobody else has access to…
Nobody but me, his woman, the person he’s going to spend the rest of his life with.
I caution myself again, for like the hundredth time. I can’t keep letting my thoughts fly away like this but I can’t help it.
“It was… a childhood.” He chuckles dryly.
“That’s one hell of a description,” I say sarcastically.
He laughs again, freer this time.
“You said you had to get used to being rich,” I go on, knowing I’m pushing but unable to stop.
I’m hungry for any morsel of information about him, anything he can throw my way, something to justify the depth of my feelings. We’re strangers to each other, essentially, even if it doesn’t feel like that.
He nods. “I wasn’t born wealthy. When I was a kid, I couldn’t imagine any of this. I couldn’t imagine owning a car, let alone a new car. I couldn’t imagine eating in fancy restaurants. Even now, I have to remind myself sometimes. This is my life. I earned this.”
“Is that why you do so much for charity?” I ask.
“Maybe. Partly.” His laughter is so enthralling, deep, and husky, drawing me in every time. “I don’t tend to think too much about why I do things. I’m like a dog. When I see something, I go after it.”
Like me, I almost say out loud, but despite how easy it feels bantering like this, that still feels like a step too far.
He chews on a chunk of steak and I pop an onion ring into my mouth. We don’t say anything for a few seconds, and then he swallows, sighing.
“I could tell you a little about my childhood,” he says. “But it might spoil the mood.”
Nothing that brings us closer could spoil the mood.
It’s like he doesn’t know that this, us learning more about each other… it’s not just something I want.
It’s necessary. I need it.
I can’t fall this hard for a man I don’t know, even though there are forces inside of us drawing us together.
No, I correct, drawing me to him.
This is the definition of one-sided.
“I don’t mind,” I say.
He studies me for a moment, a dark look passing across his face. His eyebrows knit and for a second I think he’s going to tell me to mind my own business. But then he places his fork down and steeples his hands.