Page 26 of Two’s Better

“Fine. You drive a hard bargain. It’s still yellow, isn’t it?” Yes, we’d both had the same favourite colour once upon a time. Though I was pretty sure that, unlike me, his was still the same.

“Ding, ding, ding, ding.”

“Do I get my kiss now or?” I gave him that sultry look from underneath my lashes again.

I expected him to return with a quip, but instead, he picked my right hand up from the table, then brought it to his mouth. He kept his eyes locked on mine as he pressed his soft lips to the back of my palm. I felt the brief contact zing through my entire body, peaking my nipples and warming the spot between my legs.

Jesus.

He dropped his hand on the table, but didn’t let go of mine.

“All right.” He leaned back in his seat, still loosely holding my hand, and I tried not to stare at his … everything. The way he looked in that fitted kaftan, his thick body straining the fabric. The way he filled his seat, powerful and confident and cocky and handsome. “Time for the big guns. What are your thoughts on kids?” He waggled his eyebrows again.

I was about to give him a flippant answer when the question fully registered and I paused. And even though I knew he was just messing around, I said, with a coy smile of my own, “You know what? Maybe you actually don’t know everything about me.”

“Wait, what?” He leaned forward, his focus on me—impossibly—intensifying. As he moved, his ankles did, too, rubbing sensually against mine. I tried not to shiver. “What’s this I’m hearing now?”

I squirmed. “It’s a … recent development. That I may not want kids, I mean.” My eyes flickered away from his.

“At all?”

“At all,” I said firmly.

“Huh.” He tilted his head, and it was my turn to take a sip from my own wine to escape his scrutiny. “Okay, so, maybe I don’t know everything about you. What else have you been hiding from me, eh, Ofure? This is how it starts, you know. Your hatred of me.”

I snorted out a laugh. “You piss me off so fucking bad. What have you been hiding from me?”

“Well, now that you’ve said you don’t want kids I’m curious about why not.”

I shrugged. “I’ve just come to realise it was only something I wanted because I thought I was supposed to. The moment I realised I had a choice, I decided maybe it’s not something I want after all. That’s basically it.”

“Huh.” He looked lost in thought for a moment, then his focus was back on me, and I was back to suppressing giddy shivers. God, what was even happening right now? This was Uzezi, for fuck’s sake, what was happening. “Maybe I don’t want kids, either.”

“For fuck’s sake, Uzi—”

He burst out laughing. “I’m serious! I’m not just saying that because you did. I’m serious, Ofure, stop looking at me like that. It’s like what you just said—I’ve never really given it much thought. It’s just a thing I’m supposed to want, right? To continue my “legacy”.” He rolled his eyes.

I laughed. Okay, maybe he really had given it some thought.

“On a lighter note, here’s something you don’t know about me: I want to be fluent in French, Spanish, Chinese, and Korean by the time I’m thirty.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t, in fact, known that. “Wow. That’s … ambitious. But doable,” I added, knowing Uzezi and his zeal. Then I sighed. “You’re going to make me fluent right alongside you, aren’t you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t even argue,” he said with a laugh. “What about careers?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Excited to take over our fathers’ firm?” His gaze grew hot, lingering. “Damn. You’d make a sexy fucking CEO.”

“Jesus Christ.” I blushed. Our first course came before I could properly panic; if I addressed what he’d said in any other capacity, he’d know instantly about my discontent. And I was in no way ready for that conversation. I immediately dove in once our waiter disappeared and Jesus fucking Christ. “What the fuck did they put in this?” I said after swallowing, stars in my eyes. “An angel’s tears?”

Uzezi almost choked on his bite. I chuckled, and the topic was thankfully forgotten.

By some unspoken consensus, we continued this unintentional game Uzezi had concocted, trading new, little pieces of knowledge like we really were getting to know each other for the first time. Sure, we’d have shared it all eventually—or kind of subconsciously absorbed the information via osmosis just from how much time we spent together—but doing it now with the clear intent between us made the date feel terrifyingly real.

Every time I tried to ground myself back to reality, Uzezi stroked the side of his leg against mine, or said something—or simply just looked at me and I was right back in the clouds.

If he wasn’t him, and I wasn’t me, I’d probably have started to fall in love with him right then. Which was a strange and frightening thought, one I hastily pretended I hadn’t thought at all.

He held my hand when we left the restaurant and got into the limo to go back home. When I glanced at him, like it had been happening all night—every single time my eyes had met his—my lower belly fluttered madly.

“Favourite food?” he asked with a quirked mouth, his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand. It seemed the happier and bouncier I’d become as our date progressed, the darker and sexier Uzezi had gotten in turn, his heavily lidded eyes drinking me in like the sight of my happiness was quenching some immeasurable thirst he had.