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“I like it when a man has a little hair on his chest. Not a lot, just some.”
“You got it.” He went along with everything I said, as if his interest in me had been sexual since he saw me in the bar.
“You could be everything I want, and you’ll never be good enough.” It was a harsh thing to say, but this man locked me in a cage, could’ve killed me if he hadn’t changed his mind. He was also my brother’s enemy, which made him my enemy. “I would never be with a man who had a vendetta against my family. You want to hurt my brother, the best guy I’ve ever known, and I don’t accept that. Even if my brother was wrong, even if he’s the one who did you wrong, my loyalty lies with him.”
He shook his scotch gently, his eyes guarded. “I’m not asking you to be my wife.”
“Then what are you asking?”
He never answered. Instead, he stared me down like he was a predator and I was the prey.
“I’m never gonna fuck the guy who put me in a cage.”
“Then who would you rather fuck? All those dipshits at the bar?” He leaned forward slightly until his glass was in his shadow. “The guys you pick up may be good-looking, but they have no idea how to fuck a woman. More times than not, you take a guy home and he disappoints you.”
How the fuck did he know that?
“And the men who actually know what the fuck they’re doing never call you back. Why? Because men like that always have a new woman on their hook—there’s always something better waiting. You’re just the next one in line.”
“How would you know any of that?” I didn’t admit that he was right, just challenged his statement.
He brought his hands together and held them under his chin, keeping his voice low so no one else could overhear our conversation. “Because I’m the guy who never calls back.” After he made his point, he sank back in his chair and pulled the glass toward him.
He may be totally right, but it still wasn’t enough to entice me. “I’d rather be alone than be with you.”
He flinched at my words, like they cut deep into his skin. “You say that now, but you’ll change your mind.”
A sarcastic laugh escaped my throat. “Trust me, I won’t.”
The waiter brought our food a moment later and set it down in front of us. My appetite had dwindled somewhat, but once I saw the melted cheese, my stomach growled. I grabbed my fork and started to eat. I could storm out now, but I may as well get a free meal out of it.
He ate like he hadn’t just asked to fuck me. He stabbed his fork into his food and took big bites, his jaw working hard to crunch the croutons. He didn’t need to watch his hands to keep track of what he was doing. His eyes remained on me, scooping random pieces of his salad into his mouth.
“I don’t know anything about you.” He’d told me he was the Skull King, but that didn’t mean anything to me. He must have a real name, but he never told me what it was. All I knew was he tried to imprison me to get back at Damien, and now we were eating together like we were friends.
“What do you want to know?”
I took a bite of my ravioli. They were stuffed with an assortment of cheeses and slathered in homemade marinara sauce. “First of all…” I placed a ravioli into my mouth and chewed quickly, ready to continue my questions. But then I said something else and went in a completely different direction. “Jesus…this is good.” I took another bite. “Damn.” I never finished my question because I had to get a few more bites in my salivating mouth.
He stopped eating, his fork between his fingers as he watched me make love to my food. His blue eyes were steady on mine, wide-open and unblinking. He was so focused, it was like he was watching a TV screen.
“Sorry, I just haven’t had pasta in…forever. And holy shit, that is good.” I continued to demolish my meal with a couple more bites, unable to control the hunger pangs in my stomach. I was always on the edge of being hungry, restricting my calories so I never gained weight. But when something so delicious was placed in front of me, I lost my self-control.
He started to eat again. “Why is that?”
“I’m a ballerina. I have to keep my figure.”
While his eyes were focused, the rest of his expression was blank. “I don’t see why you can’t accomplish that and eat.”
“I can eat. Just not whatever I want.”
He’d finished half his salad a minute later, eating a light meal for a man so large.
