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I roll my eyes and lift the sandwich to her pink lips. “I hardly had to twist your arm.”
She takes a tentative bite, like she’s afraid it might actually bite back, and then chews for half a second before swallowing. The way her eyelashes flutter makes my heart melt… and my pants tighten. “Good, right?”
Faith takes her napkin and delicately dabs at the corners of her mouth. “Yes. It’s… not bad.”
I lean back in my chair with my arms folded in front of my chest as I grin at her. “Wow, Faith. Your enthusiasm is contagious.”
“I know, I’m a veritable disco of unicorns and rainbows,” she says before letting out a small, irritated snort. Then she looks around the café and spots the menu hanging above the counter.
“I’ll get you something,” I say, and push my chair out to make my way to the cashier. Faith sputters and protests, but I ignoreher as I lean over the counter at the pretty woman at the register. “Hi. I’d like a ham and cheese croissant and a chocolate muffin, please.”
The woman rings me up, and within moments I’m back at the table with the goods. I put them down in front of Faith and grin as I slide back into my seat. “Ever have chocolate before? Or is that forbidden in Hell?”
“No,” she says, staring down at the muffin like they’re in a stand-off. “I have not. And it’s not forbidden. I mean, the prisoners aren’t eating it, that’s for sure. But none of the demons partake. We have other means of pleasing ourselves.”
I don’t think I want to know what Faith and the other demons do to “please themselves,” so I ignore that part of her statement and point at the muffin.
“You’re in for a real treat, then. You said you hated lemon, so I figured maybe something a bit sweeter would be more to your liking. And you seem to like cheese.”
Faith purses her lips as she peers at me. “I’m not one of your conquests that you can wine and dine, you know. I’m still going to flog you until you can’t remember your own name later.”
Oh, God. This woman. Why can’t all the women I meet be half as interesting as her? As bossy as she is?
“Is that a promise?” I ask, lowering my gaze.
When Faith finally picks up the muffin and bites into it, my heart leaps into my throat when she makes the sexiest little groan I’ve ever heard in my life. Food can be just as good as sex, they say, but until this moment I hadn’t experienced it firsthand. Now I know; yes, food is just as good, if not better, than sex.
“Summoned an insane candy shop with licorice used as rope but didn’t think to test any of the chocolate,” I chide, shaking my head. “Tsk, tsk.”
Faith’s gaze sharpens, but I see the hint of a smile taking form on her lips. She’s trying so hard to pretend she isn’t amusedby me, but I know better. She wants to laugh, and I want nothing more than to hear her laugh. It’s just going to take a little more pushing to get her over that edge, but we’ll get there, eventually.
“Do all the women you’ve seduced find you this charming?” she asks, setting the muffin down on the plate. Judging from her tone and the way her eyes sharpen, I know she’s trying to take a shot at my ego. Make me feel like an ass for all the playful teasing we probably shouldn’t be engaging in. But while I might let her take me down several pegs in the bedroom, there’s no way she’s getting the upper hand here.
I shrug and lean back against my chair. “Not really, but only because I hardly ever talk to them. They’re not dates. Not really. The women who come out with me know what they’re getting into.”
“Which is?” She quirks a brow.
“Good, hard fucking, of course.”
Her mouth draws back into a thin line, and then her expression goes completely unreadable. “Mm. I see. So, you just blast through a bunch of women… just because?”
I scoff. “Why does anyone? Because it’s fun. Because it feels good.”
“And you’re satisfied with that kind of lifestyle, then?” she asks. I don’t love where this line of questioning is going. I’ve never eaten lunch with a woman and talked about my life to this degree before. Hell, I’ve never actually talked with anyone about my life this much before. I have friends. Of course, I do. Buddies from work who like to hit up strip clubs on the weekends and drink a shit ton of beer with me while we pretend to watch a football game. But we don’t actually discuss our lives. What’s the point? What would we even say?
“I want you to think long and hard about these questions when we get back to the shop,” she says, her voice flat and disinterested. “Because if I’m going through the effort of dry-cleaning your soul, it would behoove you to understand why it was so black in the first place, so you don’t wind up right back at square one.”
I let out a groan and look back towards the cutie behind the register. She flashes me a shy smile and waves.
“Byron,” Faith’s voice snaps. “This is serious.”
Looking back at Faith, I sigh. “Why? What’s so serious about sex? It is what it is. I like to fuck women. Some people like to bet on horses or play basketball. This is my thing.”
“Your soul is wounded, and it isn’t going to be cured with more cunt on your face.”
Leaning forward, I ask, “Yeah? Maybe not for you, but it sure does feel like it helps.”
She gnaws on her bottom lip, then reaches for the sandwich to tear off another bite. Something about my situation has her worked up, which now has me worked up. And the only time I like being worked up like this is either in a board meeting or the gym.
