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“Have you met you?” I ask, sarcasm seeping through my pores.
“Yes, but you haven’t met me, Kitten. You don’t know anything about me.”
“No thanks, I know enough. How about we eat quickly and call it a night,” I tell him picking up the menu and pretending to study it, even though I know each dish by heart.
The waiter comes around and we order food and drinks after that we sit in complete silence. The bastard is staring at me shamelessly, murmuring some catchy tone under his breath without breaking his gaze even for one second while I try to look anywhere but at him.
“Can you stop?” I ask him, irritated.
“Stop what?”
“The singing.”
“You don’t like this song?”
“I don’t even know what song you are singing but stop it nevertheless.” An evil grin spreads on his face as he starts singing loud enough for all of the neighboring tables to hear him.
“My neck, my back, lick—” I slap a hand to his mouth with lightning speed, cutting off the next words of that very inappropriate song for a high-end restaurant where the crème of the crop currently dines.
He mumbles something against my palm, and I ease off a bit to see what he has to say but keep it close enough to shut him the hell up if he starts singing again.
The evil grin does not go away from his face. “I thought you didn’t know this song.”
I frown, “Everyone knows this stupid song,” I tell him.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Have you tried that?”
“Are you going to keep talking in riddles, Landon?”
He leans closer to me. “Did you have your pussy and crack licked?” I was momentarily stunned by his questions and didn’t slap my hand to shut him off fast enough.
“Oh my goodness, you have no shame. Absolutely zero.”
“I quite like having your hands on my mouth, even though I’d prefer to taste other parts of your body. And no, no shamewhatsoever. I don’t see the point. I own up to what I am. So, when can I lick you up?”
“Anddddd, we are done here,” I tell him, directing my attention back to the restaurant and people watching.
In my attempts to tune Landon out, I neglected to notice a big freaking slip-up.
That slip-up is currently a few feet away from our table, nearing us with each second, and I swear all air I had just swooshed right out of me.
Think, Lexi, come on, turn that brilliant, genius head of yours on and think! We need a plan and fast.
“Well, well, well. Isn’t this a pleasant surprise, Lexi?” Fuck…
I slowly turn my head to the right and my eyes take in the view in front of me.
Stuart-die-in-hell-Dirk is standing there in all his six-foot-one, blonde, toned, rich glory and with a slightly shorter, fake-boobed, botoxed-out wife of his hanging off his arm like candy.
Ding!The sound goes off in my head before I can think better of it.
This might be the worst mistake of my life, and I will most likely—scratch that, definitely—pay dearly for it, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Plastering as fake a smile as her boobs on my face I look up at my asshole of an ex-boyfriend.
