I chuckle. “I could eat a chimichanga right about now.”
Pressing my hand on the small of her back, I guide her down the street. Ava points out a few shops and stops in front of one display. The expression on her face takes my breath away. “What is it?”
She points at a set of coffee mugs. “I want those! Have you read the series?”
I look closely at them and shake my head, unable to identify the triangle symbol or glasses. “I’m going to say no, since I don’t know what it is.”
She gasps with outrage. “Seriously? You’ve never readHarry Potter?”
“No, sorry. I can’t say I have.”
Ava shakes her head, and I smirk. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Not at all. I’m enjoying the passion you feel about the series. You’re a very passionate woman, Ava King…” My gaze drops to her lips, and I watch the pink of her tongue slip out. Taking a calculated risk, I cup her cheek and press my mouth to hers.
The kiss is unrushed. Containing my thirst for this woman, I pull back and look down at her. “For you, I’ll give it a try.”
Something flashes in her eyes before she clears her throat. “You won’t regret it.”
We continue down the street but not before I take a mental note of the store. I learn quite a bit about Ava on our short walk, other than her love forHarry Potter. She appreciates beautiful things, but short of those mugs in the window, she didn’t express a want or need for any item. When it came to the displays, she took pictures of some things with her phone, stating they were gift ideas.
Inside the restaurant, we’re seated in a corner. I pull out a chair for her, and I’ll do it again to receive the sweet smile she shines at me.
“Would you like a margarita?” the waitress asks.
“Oh, no. Water with a lemon, please,” Ava blurts.
My brows raise. “Please make that two,” I tell the waitress, but I remain focused on Ava until we are alone. “Don’t like margaritas?”
“I love margaritas. I just don’t think drinking around you—”
I burst into a fit of laughter, cutting off her words. “Ava, sweetheart. If you’d like a margarita, have one. I do know how to be a gentleman.”
She looks at me with disbelief. “The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior.”
God, she’s cute too. “Ava, I like you. It’s okay if sex is off the table while we get to know each other. Have a drink if you’d like.” I lift the menu and will myself to not reach across the table and rub the wrinkles free from her forehead. She looks confused, and I have to admit, I kind of like it. Keeping her on her toes will be fun.
I’m not lying. If sex means waking up alone once again because she’s had a moment of regret, I won’t sleep with her. The next time I get between her legs, I want her calling my name and begging me for more.
She’ll be work. I can tell she doesn’t trust easily, but from the little I’ve seen, I know the payoff will be worth it all.
“So what’s good here?” I ask, scanning the menu. After giving her a minute to process what I’ve said, I look back up and find her in the same position. “What?”
Her mouth opens and lips flap, but no sound leaves. Ava clears her throat. “I’ve… never has… who are you?” It looks like distorted thoughts were sprinkling and fragmenting all at once. I must’ve broken the beauty.
I reach for her hand and cup it in mine. “Ava, waking up to an empty bed after you snuck out?” I sigh. “I don’t want to do that again. We already know our sexual chemistry is off the charts.” I wink and enjoy the sweet blush that covers her soft skin in response. “I want more of this. Let me show you I’m worth the risk. That way when you let me back between those soft legs, you won’t fuck and dash.” Ignoring the soft gasp and her eyes roaming the nearby tables, I continue. “Next time, I want you begging. Are we clear? Because if we keep talking about this at the dinner table, someone’s going to see my dick straining to be set free.”
She nods slowly and her cheeks turn pink as she focuses on me. I didn’t miss the way she looked downward at the mention of my cock. This isn’t the time or place though.
“Are you ready to order?” a woman with a Spanish accent asks.
“No, necesitamos otro minuto,”I say.
“Esta bien,”she says with a smile and moves to another table.
“You can speak Spanish?” Ava asks.
“I can. It’s enough to get me through some conversations, and I’m sure my accent is atrocious, but it works.”
