She scurries off with a look of disappointment on her face, and I take a minute to look at him through her eyes. His veiny, corded forearms rest on the table, and the spread of ink thereinterests me. The intricate designs and numbers, mixed with phrases in cursive. My eyes move to the cross on his finger, and I again wonder who the hell this man is at his core, because I truly couldn’t figure him out if I tried.
“How do you know I’ll like what you ordered?” I quiz him, giving into the moment, resting my chin on my palm.
“Because it’s the best burger in town, and they hand-cut their own fries.”
My stomach growls in response.
Sean grins. “See?”
“You don’t even know me, yet you knowwaytoo much about me. How is that?” I question, folding my arms over my chest.
“I don’t know it all yet, but I will,” he hedges as I watch him shift in his seat a little as a knot forms between his brows.
“What hurts?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me as the server comes back and places two glasses on the table. She sets my San Pellegrino down and an organic coconut water for Sean.
I watch with curiosity as he moves my glass in line with his, then picks up the bottle of San Pellegrino and pours it into my glass. When he sets the bottle down, he turns it so the label faces me, then pours his coconut water into his own glass, doing the same with his bottle, facing the label toward him.
“The chivalrous biker who drinks organic coconut water? Interesting,” I muse.
“It rehydrates me after a workout,” he says without looking up, and I admit to myself this is not what I expected when I saw him walk through The Palm Club’s doors last night.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Layla
“How can you tell something hurts?” he asks, setting his glass down after taking a long drink.
I shrug as I take a sip. God that’s good, after being out in that heat. I must take too big a mouthful because a tiny bit spills from my glass and lands on my chest. One lone droplet of water trickles its way into my white tank top between my breasts. I use my middle finger to scoop it up before it falls any further and move to wipe it on the napkin, but Sean is faster. He reaches out and swipes my hand up to his lips, bringing my middle finger into his mouth. His hot tongue pulses against the underside, and I clench my thighs together as my breathing increases with his simple yet barbaric action.
“We’re in the middle of a restaurant, for God’s sake,” I whisper, checking to see if anyone is looking. He just smirks at me, before pulling my finger from his mouth with a slight pop. It’s insanely erotic. Absolutely overbearing. Yet I have to physically hold in a moan—and the worst part is, I didn’t even try to stop him. When he places my hand back down on the table, I blink rapidly, trying to regain my composure, wondering if I’mhallucinating again. He isn’t even shaken. Alarm bells fire off in my head.This is not normal.
“Well?” he says.
“Well?” I ask, totally out of it.
“How do you know something hurts?” he asks. I blink again.
“Oh, um … I could tell by the way you tensed up on your bike, and the face you made just now when you changed positions.” I lower my eyes. “I’m assuming from the scar on your back that’s where the pain is?” I add, still feeling a little self-conscious about what happened last night.
Sean takes a sip of his own drink. “Yeah, my back bothers me sometimes.”
I look at him expectantly.
“I was an active-duty Marine,” he starts.
I nod, having gathered something like that from the dog tags.
“I was injured during my last tour, and I suffered from a slipped disc among other things. The scar isn’t from that though. When our Humvee went end over end, glass broke and it cut me. It cut me here too.” He holds his t-shirt up and shows me another large scar across his abs.
My mouth falls slack for a full second becauseholy shit, those abs. I close it and look back up to meet his eyes, momentarily stunned stupid by his body.
“Oh …” I mutter, forcing myself into professional mode. “What kind of treatment have you had?”
The server comes back with our meals and places them in front of us.
“Can I get you anything else?” she asks Sean.
“No, we’re all good,” he says, sending her on her way, again without taking his eyes off me.
