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“What?”
She shakes her head. “You’re nothing like I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me,” I say, pulling the skillet from the rack over the range and setting it on the burner. As I turn the dial on the stove, it clicks a couple times before the flame gives an audiblewhoosh. I’m standing close to her as I grab a handful of the sliced onions and drop them into the skillet. After a moment, they begin to sizzle as Daisy hides her dimpled cheeks.
“I just find it weird that I’m helping cook burgers in the middle of the day with the richest guy in Briar Point.” Then she shifts her hips, turning to face me as she adds, “And you haven’t tried to sleep with me once.”
Our eyes meet for a moment before I force myself to shift away, looking down at the sautéing onions in the pan. Even while I add salt and a little sherry, I’m letting her words linger, thinking about the right way to respond to them.
Does she want me to try and sleep with her?
“Say something, Ronan. It was just a joke.”
I could crack a joke in return. Make light of the conversation. Instead, I shoot for honesty.
“I don’t bring women home, Daisy. It’s why I have my own room at the club. I didn’t bring you home to try and get into your pants. I could have done that at Salacious.”
Her smile falters for a moment. When she turns back toward me, her expression is laced with curiosity. “You have a private room at the club?”
“Yes. You didn’t know that?”
“No. I’ve never even been in one of the rooms.”
A deep chuckle rumbles through my chest. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. So, wait. You don’t bring women home?”
“No.”
“Why not?” she asks, sounding genuinely curious. “This place is very impressive.”
“Because…” I reply, reaching for the salt, “I don’t want to.”
After the onions are done, I grill the burgers in the same pan, letting the aroma fill the room. Daisy starts humming after taking a long inhale. “Smells delicious.”
When I turn back toward her, I notice she’s sitting on the countertop, her legs dangling off the edge, and I have to clench my jaw to keep from thinking very inappropriate things. How I’d love to drape them over my shoulders, feel her soft thighs against my ears and see just how good she tastes between them.
I wonder if she’s a timid lover, moaning sweetly, or if she’s wild and bold, unafraid to ask for what she wants. Considering how sweet she is now, I’d like to think she’s the opposite in bed. The idea of her digging her fingers in my hair to pull my mouth harder against her has my dick twitching just thinking about it.
Filthy images of her start racing through my mind. The thought of making her come so many times, she’s soaked and aching. The sounds she would make while taking my cock down her throat. The way she would look tied to my bed, squirming and begging for relief.
There’s something about this girl—she’s as sweet as she is fiery. I could have some fun finding all the ways to make her feel good, and I know I’d love every single second of it.
I’m growing hard behind my zipper, and I feel like shit for it. She has no idea that currently in my head, I’m licking my way into her perfect little cunt.
And it’s going to stay that way—in my head.
When the burgers are done, I serve them with leafy lettuce on a grilled bun. With the first bite, she lets out a husky sounding moan, and my dick twitches in my pants. I guess I just got my answer.
At this moment, I decide that I’m not going to let this woman out of my sight. I may not be trying to fuck her, but I’m too addicted to the sight of her devouring the food I’ve cooked to let her go.
“You’re staying here,” I say, not giving a shit that I sound like a fucking caveman.
She’s dabbing her mouth with a napkin when her eyes go wide and she stares at me in shock.
