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I could use a good night’s sleep because, even though Joaquin is acting like a little shit, he still reaches for me at night, and I’m too damn weak to refuse him.
I stop a few feet from my car at the sight of Joaquin leaning against the driver side door with an arrogant smile on his face.
“Joaquin,” I say, disguising my shock with a casual smile. “What are you doing here?”
He flashes a panty-melting smile in my direction, and I look away, trying to dodge that fucker and save myself.
“I thought we could have dinner tonight, Will.”
Typical. I cross my arms and arch a brow at him. “Are you asking me to dinner or telling me we’re having dinner?”
He frowns and pushes off my car to close the distance between us. “I’m asking, Willow.”
Yes, my traitorous body pleads with me. “Why now? You’ve been pissed off and giving me the silent treatment for days.”
He shrugs. “I’m hungry. You’re hungry. I figure we can satisfy that hunger together.” He knows exactly what he’s doing with that low, sexy tone of his. When Joaquin licks his lips, I know I’m close to giving in to this man because what he wants, I want too.
I just wish I weren’t so easy.
“I have to get home,” I say and move toward my car because I need to get away from him before my resolve cracks.
“Please,” he says and steps in front of me, an earnest expression on his beautiful face. “We should talk.”
Talk, he says. Not fuck. And those softly spoken three words break my determination to stay angry at him for being angry with me.I can’t even believe I just thought that shit.
“Fine. Dinner.” I bump him with my hip and grasp my door handle. “Where are we going?”
“Someplace private,” he assures me and nods toward his bike. “Hop on.”
I do, but not because he tells me to, but because I’ve missed being on the back of a bike. His bike.
I hang on to Joaquin and enjoy the ride to some unknown location, leaning my cheek against his back because I can. I don’t recognize the neighborhood we’re in, but it’s nice.
The homes are new and big, and trees line up every few feet on the wide streets. It’s the kind of place people would call idyllic.
He rolls to a stop in front of an impressive white house with a blue door and matching blue shutters. Like it’s inviting us in. It’s perfect. “Where are we?”
He shrugs and takes my hand. “It’s a rental. I wanted somewhere private for us tonight.”
“So this is an Airbnb ?”
He nods. “Disappointed?”
“Hardly,” I scoff. “Impressed, actually. This is…sweet.”
His deep laughter echoes on the quiet street and shoots through my body, infusing me with the lust that’s always present when I’m around Joaquin.
“Good,” he says with a sweet smile. “Come on.” He gives my hand a squeeze and tugs me toward the house. He motions me to enter and locks the door behind us. He flicks a switch, and soft lights illuminate the lower floor.
I gasp when I take in the beautiful rooms. “Wow, this place is fantastic. Like a dream home.” My dream home, anyway. I might decorate a little differently, but this looks like the sitcom homes I always wished I lived in growing up. “It smells so good in here. Does the place come with a chef?”
“No,” he smirks and tugs me through the living room and into the kitchen, where the heavenly smell intensifies. “Unless you think I might be a chef. I made us dinner. My mama’schili rellenos. Hungry now?”
My mouth drops open in shock, and all I can do is nod like an idiot. “You cooked dinner?”
“Yep.”
“For us?”
