Hating You (Blackthorn Elite 1) - Page 42
Like a fish plucked out of water, I open my mouth and slam it closed again. Whatever I was planning to say has evaporated into the air. I can’t believe the balls of this guy. After everything, he still expects me to sleep with him.
His gaze drifts over me one last time, it’s predatory and searing, and I don’t dare move a muscle until he opens the door and leaves the dressing room.
“What just happened?” I whisper to myself as I sag against the wall, my heartbeat echoing into my ears.
Parker violated my personal space, made me feel like a cheap whore, and for some strange reason, I liked the way he was talking to me, liked the way he was ready to take from me without notice. What is wrong with me?
Maybe he is right, his darkness does call to me, and maybe I really do like it.
12
Parker
It wasn’t my intention to make her jealous by talking to Alice at the dress store, but I have to admit that I liked it. I like knowing I have that kind of power over her, that even though I treat her like I do, part of her still wants me.
Alice picks out a small Italian place for lunch that’s within walking distance of the store we just left. Willow stares down at the ground, the bag from the dress store dangling in her hand. I have to stop myself from thinking about how she looked in that little red dress. She had a point when she said I shouldn’t want other people to see her in it. Honestly, I don’t, but knowing how uncomfortable she’ll be the whole night is well worth my own dislike of sharing her. Anyone can look, but if they touch her. The thought makes me want to smash someone’s head in.
Warren and Alice make small talk a few feet ahead of us while I hang back by Willow. I do my best to ignore her presence as if it were that easy. She’s already under my skin, integrated into the darkest parts of my mind. When we reach the restaurant, I shove all my thoughts into a tight little box and save them for later.
As soon as we walk into La Strada, the hostess heads straight to us with a wide grin on her face. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she basically skips my way while batting her eyelashes at me.
“Hey, guys,” she greets, while only looking at me with her fuck me eyes.
“Hi there,” I reply, taking her bait. “I’ve never seen you here. You must be new, ’cause I would definitely remember you.”
“Yup, just started.” Still ignoring everybody else, she asks, “Will you be dining in today?”
“Yes,” I wink, “I will be now, and I’m starving.” She giggles like a little schoolgirl, and the sound instantly annoys me.
For the first time, she looks past me, acknowledging the rest of the group. “Table for four?”
Smiling, I say, “Yes, please.” The smile I give her is legendary, one that often has the ladies tossing their panties at me.
“Follow me,” she chimes, grabbing four menus. She takes us to a booth in the back, and I don’t miss how she shakes her hips a little more than necessary. My eyes gravitate to her ass, but it doesn’t draw my attention like Willow’s does. Still, the fact that I know I can piss Willow off by doing basically nothing is too good of a deal to pass up.
When we reach the table, I purposely touch the waitress’s lower back, knowing that’ll set Willow right off. To add insult to injury, I lean in and whisper into the shell of her ear, “Thank you.”
She giggles again, and I take my seat before she gets any ideas and pulls me into the back room or something. As she skips away, Willow comes into view. Just as I had hoped, she is fuming, steam all but blowing out her ears. Her face is scrunched up into a mask that’s a mixture of annoyance, anger, and pure jealousy.
Alice slides into the seat across from me, and Willow tries to sit down next to her, but I stop her, my fingers circling her wrist. “Come sit by me, I won’t bite.” I wink.
She shoots me a death glare and sighs so loudly, I’m sure the entire restaurant can hear her. Nonetheless, she does as she’s told.
“Good girl,” I whisper and pat her on the knee.
She starts to pull away, but I give her knee a hard squeeze, refusing to give her an inch of space. Unwrapping her silverware from her napkin, I wouldn’t be surprised if she fantasizes about stabbing me with that knife in her hand. The silver gleams in the light, and she looks over to me, the embers of jealousy still bright and red.
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