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My next words could either end this little fascination or keep it going. Ending it would leave me right back in the mood I was in before I saw him. I’d have nothing to look forward to but the doom of Wednesday. Of meeting someone my father wants me to consider as a future husband.
So, keeping this going would… well, I don’t know what it would do. Maybe it would lead nowhere, to nothing. But at least I’d know, and it would be my choice.
This time when I think of what to say, I’m not stuck. I know exactly what to say even if I sound crazy.
“What if having your interest doesn’t sound like such a bad thing?” That was so forward for me.
He leans closer, and I catch his alluring scent. It makes me want to breathe him in.
“It still is.”
I get the feeling this guy doesn’t waste words. He says exactly what he means to say, and he has no time for beating around the bush or screwing around.
“Why?”
“Because if I taste you, I’d want more, and I always get what I want.”
Taste me?
Did I hear him right?
And taste me where?
My mouth waters at the thought of him tasting me. The scandalous images I conjure of all the possible places I’d love for him totasteme spike my temperature, and I feel like I’m standing next to the sun.
Dante breaks my heated trance by tapping once on the table, then he stands, reminding me how tall he is.
“Trust me.” He pulls out a cigarette from the inside pocket of his jacket and tucks it behind his ear as if it’s a habit. “I don’t think your father would approve.”
No, Dad would not. Definitely not after arranging for me to meet a man he’s probably already selected for me to marry.
But this is my life. Not my father’s.
“My father doesn’t have a say in who I keep as friends.”
Dante looks me over again. “Friends?”
“Yeah, friends.”
“Well, that’s just the problem. I couldn’t be your friend.”
The comment hits my core with a potent dose of arousal that has me squeezing my thighs together.
“Oh,” I rasp, eliciting a wider smile from his handsome face.
“Don’t be late back for work.” He keeps his gaze trained on me and takes one step backward.
Another step, and I realize he’s leaving. That makes me straighten as if someone shoved a steel rod up my spine.
“Wait.” I extend my hand as if I can reach him and make him stay.
“Yes?” His eyes darken once more, but the light of curiosity dances within them like wildfire.
“Will I see you again?”
“You want to seemeagain?” He narrows one eye.
“Yes.” My voice is soft and reflective. The way you’d sound if you agreed to something that holds a significant meaning to you.
