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My face heated, a slow smile creeping along my lips. Pulling the strap of my purse higher up my shoulder, I stopped about a foot away from him.I could say the same for you.
He grinned, the smile reaching his eyes and creasing the corners.I am honored to be taking you out for dinner, Ainsley. Thank you for this gift.
My stomach tumbled. I had never met a man who spoke like him but even though that was the case, I vowed to never take his kind words for granted.
Cyrus winked and opened the passenger door.
I stepped around him, my gaze falling to a single white rose sitting on the seat.
“It means friendship,” Cyrus explained, coming up behind me. “Or it does according to Google anyway.”
I smiled up at him.Thank you.
“Of course, pet.”
I picked up the rose and sat, lifting the pretty flower to my nose.
Cyrus closed the door behind me before joining me on the driver’s side. “Do you like Italian?”
I nodded, assuming I did. Truth was, I didn’t really get out much and wasn’t normally prone to trying new things, but I didn’t want him to think I was a hermit either. I just didn’t like going out by myself.
“What is it?”
My head whipped around, finding him staring back at me.
“Is something wrong? We don’t have to go for Italian. We can get anything you want.”
I shook my head, opening my mouth but of course, the words I wanted to say never left. I looked away, my stomach twisting over the fact that I wanted to speak to him. I wanted him to hear my voice and give it to him in return. Hugging my arms around myself, I suddenly felt exposed. I shouldn’t have worn this dress.
“I like your dress. It’s easy access to the sweetness beneath it.”
A shuddered breath left me at the memory. This was a bad idea. I couldn’t do this. Cyrus deserved someone who wasn’t so damn broken. Someone who didn’t jump at every little sound. Someone who didn’t live at a place that was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Someone who could actually fucking speak.
“Ainsley,” Cyrus said, his voice firm. “Look at me, pet.”
I swallowed hard, wringing my hands together in my lap.
A big hand suddenly engulfed mine.
“Take a deep breath.”
I inhaled as instructed.
“Now let it out.”
I blew it out slowly.
“Again.”
We repeated it a couple more times, his words instructing my breathing pattern. It was like some lame blonde joke. Him teaching me how to breathe.
Unclasping my hands, I linked my fingers between his.
“I got you, pet,” he told me, his voice gentle.
I held his hand with both of mine, needing his rough touch. He had callouses, and I found as I ran my thumb over each of them, I wanted to know what they felt like against my naked skin.
“Are you allergic to anything?” he asked, his voice low.
