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“Hmm…”
Picking her up off the car I place her on her feet, her audible huff makes my chest swell because yeah, kissing her might become a new hobby.
“The food’s going to get cold.” I tell her, grabbing the duffel and our coats and then her hand. I lead her down the path to the open grassy area overlooking the city.
Watching as I lay out the blanket Arabella packed, she smiles wide and that alone makes this the best date I’ve ever been on. Not that I’ve been on many.
I’m about to reach for the duffel when she beats me to it, my heart falls to my stomach as she opens it and her eyes flash to mine. Waiting for her to lose her shit, I ready myself to take the hit…this was going so well.
Her freak out never comes. Taking a deep breath she pulls the insulated bag with the food out and hands it to me followed by the bottle of champagne Arabella insisted on.
“Cassie…” Her silence is twisting me every which way and I can’t take it.
“I’m letting you protect me, Leo.”
Nodding, I pull out the McDonalds and Burger King bags and when she sits beside me, her smile is back.
“You remembered.”
“You’re a BK girl.”
“Yeah,” she murmurs softly as she shuffles closer and then straddles my lap. “I want to keep you.”
Those are the best words I’ve ever heard and although I know that they might not be true forever, I ignore the nagging feeling and let myself revel in the moment.
Chapter 22
Leo
The gates to the Sinclair London home open the minute I turn into the drive and before I’ve even come to a stop Wayne is opening the front door and stepping out to inspect the courtyard.
I’ve grown used to having him chaperone Cassie and I on our dates over the last three weeks. She’s so easy to please that it should really be a crime. Cassie doesn’t care for showy gestures, she’s happy keeping things simple and quiet.
I like that, and the fact that she doesn’t need a constant audience makes me admire her even more. I look at her and in spite of my constant need to make sure she’s safe, in spite of that constant worry, I feel at peace.
It’s strange because I never thought I was tortured before, but she makes every second before her feel like I was lost in my own personal hell.
Even when I visit Kit, and she’s with me, I feel like everything is going to be okay. I know that with every day that has passed the last three months, the likelihood of Kit being all right has decreased. It’s an intolerable notion I can’t shake. It’s constantly on my mind and in my thoughts.
My mother is driving herself insane looking at every possible treatment, every possible avenue we can explore to get him back, but he’s already got the best fucking doctors taking care of him.
I’m about to cut the engine and get out when Cassie skips out of the front door with a huge smile on her face. Her blonde mane is knotted on the top of her head messily, she’s wearing those jeans I love that make the most of her curvy hips and tiny waist and a cropped Levi’s T-shirt with all the Charlie Brown gang across her chest.
Cassie has this impossibly sexy, cute vibe that plays up on her doll like features and queenly mannerisms. She’s beguiling as fuck; I can’t understand how she can be so down to earth with everything she has about her. I’ve seen girls with less than half her allure act like they own the universe.
Toby’s got his head all the way in the front from between the seats, and he’s panting like she’s a fresh bowl of water after he’s been for his run.
“Sit.” As always when she’s around he ignores me. “Toby, sit, now! I’ll put you in the Range with Wayne.”
Looking at me, I swear he’s giving me screw you eyes.
“Don’t you look at me like that. She’s mine, not yours. Go get your own female.”
“Your female?” Laughing, she slides into the car. “You haven’t quite made me that yet, Neat Freak.”
She gives me that same sultry quirk she’s given me every time we’re alone and she wants more intimacy. It’s not that I don’t want to have her, to fuck her…it’s just that she’s so perfect, and I’m so me. I know where things are going, it gets harder and harder to push her away. It gets harder to stop with her coming around my fingers or from the mere friction of my cock.
I want her to be sure. I don’t want her to look back and regret giving me something she can’t take back. I don’t want to regret taking something in the heat of the moment.
