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I’m barely able to break the kiss but I have to because I can’t catch a breath. But when I do, I suddenly don’t care. I don’t care if I can’t breathe. It doesn’t seem important anymore. And I get goosebumps when I suddenly want to stay with him. And never leave.
****
I’m silent in the car ride on our way to the restaurant. After the kiss things have changed. He’s not just my captor anymore. He’s something well...more. When I glance at his profile as he’s driving, I feel myself blushing.
There’s no frown on his face anymore, his features more relaxed and the way he’s holding the steering wheel with one hand makes him look like he’s at ease. Sometimes he turns my way, his lips lifting at the corners and I find myself smiling back.
Everything about him is striking, from his profile, to his masculine lips to the way he somehow seems too big for the car.
I smile back like he’s tamed me and like I’ve forgotten that I’m still stuck in his cage. But maybe all cages aren’t equal. And it might be so, that his is different.
Sighing, I lean my head back. Isn’t there a name for what I’m doing, for what I’m feeling? Syndrome something...?
Looking out of the window, I’m surprised to see that the town is a lot more charming than it looked from Husband’s house. It feels a little bit like traveling back in time. Most of the buildings are the colors of red maples and there’s twinkling lights everywhere. My eyes round in delight when I notice a couple sharing a romantic moment in a horse drawn carriage in the distance.
I lean back in my seat. This place is not what I expected.
Neither is Husband.
He parks the car, opens the door for me then grabs my hand. Anyone who could be looking would probably mistake us for just a normal couple. I throw a glance around, noticing that nobody is looking. This is an empty street and it’s clear that we’re not going to go through the front entrance. We’re going through the exit.
He’s going to take every precaution. Obviously.
We walk inside and he immediately leads me through a small hall where we don’t bump into anyone and we sit down in a booth. It’s so private that it doesn’t even feel like we’re at a restaurant. There’s blues music playing, but there’s no chatter, no clinking of utensils and I realize that he’s booked the whole place. We’re alone.
With his eyes on me, he takes off his coat and I do the same and take off my fur. I’m nervous again, the point of this night was to use it to my advantage, find an escape route. But my body seems too drowsy, heavy with something like it would rather just stay where it is.
I squirm when he puts his palm up on the table but I still sneak my hand into his and he squeezes my fingers. He told me that I make him fall apart. Slowly, he’s doing the same to me. I need to be careful. Really careful.
“Welcome to The Box,” a chipper male voice says and I sharply look up at the waiter and I gawk, “here are your menus.”
I stare at him, at his smiling face and then my eyes go to Husband. He’s not smiling and in the dimmed lights he looks so dark, obscure somehow but he shakes his head. Discreetly and the gesture is meant for my eyes only.
Licking my lips, I don’t know what to do. I should grab the waiter and ask him to rescue me, ask him to call the cops.
“C...can I...,” I begin and I feel myself go pale when Husband squeezes my fingers in warning and I stiffen, “please have a glass of white wine to start off with?”
“Of course,” the waiter says cheerfully before his eyes go to Husband, “and you Mr. Haw...”
“Cognac,” Husband snaps while my eyes flare, “and we want everything that’s on the menu.”
His tone is sharp and the waiter scurries while my gaze goes to Husband. I just got a little piece of information. His last name begins with an H and an A and a W. But it’s not making me any wiser. Those letters don’t tell me anything.
“Why are you looking at me like that, doll face?”
Swallowing I murmur, “You shouldn’t be drinking and driving.”
“No,” his mouth moves in a lopsided smile, “I probably shouldn’t.”
I take my hand back and use it to clutch the seat while Husband leans back. His body language is relaxed but still powerful. I won’t have a chance trying to dart out of the booth. He’ll only catch me.
“But you’re going to do it anyway?” I ask and he shrugs.
“Probably.”
“Because you always do as you please?”
His eyes harden slightly. “I do. And maybe you should follow my lead.” He leans forward and it causes the light to shine on half his face. “You like my garden and you think I smell nice. Whatever it is that you feel for me, don’t resist it. You’re doing nothing wrong by giving into me.”
