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I didn’t even like white wine, but it went down like the sweetest nectar.
Almost as sweet as Natalee.
I balled my fists beneath the table, grateful for some cover for the darker part of me. The part that was struggling to sit here and not make good use of the bed behind us. She made me feel unhinged. Out of control. It was hot...and about as terrifying as letting her peek behind the curtain. Admitting that I wasn’t perfect. Letting her see the ugliness and all the reasons she should walk away.
Like fate had enough of pretending that a sinner like me could get the girl, Natalee pushed back from the table, delicately covering her plate with her napkin. Without looking me in the eye, she headed back into the bedroom. This wasn’t like Crave, where her signals, her body language, screamed that she wanted me.
Her silence was telling me that she wanted to call it a night.
Before I rose to my feet, I told myself that if she wanted to say goodbye, I’d respect that. The jerk? He’d push her against the door before she could walk out of it. He’d make this whole thing about him. About his pride.
I wouldn’t do that to her.
Not anymore.
She lifted the rose from the pillow and brought it to her nose. I told myself if she took it, even if she was on the way out the door, maybe there would be some good memories to counter the bad.
She brought the flower to her chest and...walked right past the door.
Back to me.
With lust burning in her gaze, her lips slightly parted, she searched my face like she was trying to see what was underneath. My heart pounded in my ears like a drum and every part of me was alive with want. With need. Breathlessly waiting for her to prove this wasn’t a dream. A mirage that would disappear before I had a chance to gorge myself.
Francois had culinary skills like no other, but I was hungry for something else.
I was hungry for Natalee.
She paused at the doorway, the rose nestled between her breasts. “I’ve seen parts of you. The charmer. The man who knows how to fuck.”
That hot little mouth of hers rounded the word in such a way that my cock pulsed with anticipation.
“And I’ve seen the jerk.” She didn’t say that word with the energy that she could have. With pain. With anger. She said it matter-of-factly, like it was something that happened, and she was ready to move forward.
She held out the flower to me. “You said there’s more.” Her eyes darkened to emerald slits that gleamed with passion. “Show me.”
~
It was more than a challenge.
It was an opportunity.
It was surrender.
She was offering more than just her body, offering something much more fragile.
Her heart.
I accepted the rose, gently placing it in the vase with the other.
Her eyes glowed up at me, her cheeks warm as I cupped her face in my hands. I felt her warmth, her fear, her need flowing through her and into me.
I savored every heartbeat, her impatience, lips upturned for the kiss she knew was coming. It told me that taking my time was exactly what the doctor ordered.
I leaned in, my mouth hovering above hers. Her breath was my breath and we tasted of wine and erotic promises.
I brought my fingers to her lips, teasing them both, groaning with suppressed desire as her tongue flicked against my fingertips. Without warning, she took me by the elbow and thrusted my fingers into her mouth. Her eyes crinkled at the discomfort, laced with pleasure.
Fuck.
