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I nod again, but he’s closer now, invading my space like he needs to investigate so he can see for himself if I’m okay. I don’t want him poking around, to be honest, so I do the thing I know will distract him.
I lean in and kiss him.
His hand slides around my neck and he pulls me in closer. He always does that, pulls me in like he can’t get me close enough, no matter how hard he tries.
He deepens the kiss, his grip on the back of my neck tightening before letting go. His fingers sink into my hair and he cradles the entire back of my head in his palm so he can use that to control me instead.
My heart pounds like it always does when he kisses me. His other hand slides up my thigh to the hem of my skirt. He slides it underneath, then higher and higher, until he’s caressing my bare thigh and I’m lost in this dizzy little haze of lust he’s so adept at shrouding me in.
I break away from him to catch my breath and so things can’t escalate.
I was bizarrely turned on after breakfast, so I was actually a little relieved he wanted to fuck me in the car, but just because it felt good didn’t mean it didn’t also hurt like hell. He was so rough with me last night that my insides feel bruised, so it wasn’t exactly comfortable when my body had to stretch to accommodate him again.
I don’t know how this post-virginity thing works, exactly, but I don’t want tobreakthe thing, so maybe he shouldn’t fuck me again at lunch time. He’ll probably want to again later when we’re sleeping in the same bed, so we need to at least give my body a little break before then.
He doesn’t seem to mind, though.
He’s satisfied with the kiss for the moment, so he settles his strong arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side.
Before long, we’re at the burger place.
I’m relieved to emerge from the hazy limousine and at least have the world open up a little bit to let in food.
He holds my hand as we walk inside, and I watch a girl at a table with another girl stop with her burger halfway to her mouth to stare at Silvan as he walks in. Her bright-eyed look droops when she sees his hand in mine, but she still looks up at his face to see if it’s as good as the rest of him.
She must be so disappointed when it is.
I crack a smile, almost feeling bad for her.
Silvan notices and asks, “What are you smiling about?”
“You just attract a lot of attention in public spaces. This whole sexy Viking thing you’ve got going on. I think you need to cut your hair.”
He smirks. “Why’s that?”
“I don’t know, maybe you’d be less hot,” I suggest.
He nods as if considering, then pulls out his phone. I figure he’s just checking it, so I search the dining area for a table off in a corner with no one around. Once I’ve found the perfect spot, I grab his free hand and haul him over to it.
I don’t even think he’s paying attention, but he stops to pull out my chair, his gaze still on his phone.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
It’s probably odd to feel a bit jealous of aphone, but usually when we’re together,Ihave all of Silvan’s attention.
He nods, then once I’m sitting, he holds the phone in front of me, and I see what he was doing. I’m somewhat relieved to realize he wasn’t distracted texting or anything like that; he was looking for a picture of himself before he grew his hair out to show me.
My gaze settles on a shot of him at the beach, shirtless and clean-shaven with short hair, laughing at something his friend is saying.
Oh damn. He’s gorgeous. He looks like he’s modeling something I’d never purchase because I’d be too busy gazing at the ad to get that far.
“Not less hot. Got it.”
He smirks and walks over to take the seat across from me. Now that he’s shown me he’s hot no matter how he styles himself, apparently, he puts his phone away and returns his full attention to me.
I try to ignore the faint burst of pleasure, but that’s one of the things I really like about Silvan. He doesn’t seem to have this constant need to be connected to everything but me when we’re together. He’s always focused on me when he’s spending time with me. Most guys can’t even stay off their phone on a date. It’s like they’re too worried about keeping up with everything else that is far more interesting to them than me.
“Can I ask you a question?”
