“What?” My dinner companion was enjoying the freedom that a simple act such as having dinner with the devil could provide. Her eyes were lit like firecrackers, every feature softened by the warm glow of candlelight.
Since the tense moments hours before, she’d acted as if my odd, possessive behavior had been a single glitch in my personality instead of just another taste of the brutal man I’d become.
Watching her was my private indulgence, including her childlike eyes when tasting and enjoying everything my sister had put in front of her. She’d not only noted that our bakery and chocolate store carried some of the finest sweets in New Orleans, but she’d also insisted on paying for a box to take home.
After that, Emmeline had insisted on what she called a tour around the world of our gourmet cheeses paired with various wines.
Doing so had forced me to realize that I’d barely tasted our goods over the years. While I’d eaten in the restaurant several times, tonight I was enjoying Indulgence in an entirely different way.
“It was like you’d eaten a bug instead of warm, gooey chocolate.”
“There were pistachios in it. Emmeline knows I loathe pistachios.”
“Maybe she was getting even for you being an asshole.”
I shook my head in response. She was right.
She continued laughing, hiding behind her glass of wine as she remained unblinking. I sat back, tossing my napkin on the table just as the waiter brought dessert.
“Mmm… Perfect.” Her words were little more than a soft purr.
“You weren’t kidding before.”
“About what?” She picked up a dessert fork, toying with the fresh whipped cream swirled on the surface.
“Living or dying by chocolate.”
“Hence the name of the dessert.”
Narrowing my eyes, I wasn’t certain what she was talking about.
“Death by chocolate? My goodness. You don’t even eat in your own fabulous restaurant. Do you? Be honest.”
Snorting, I grabbed my whiskey, pulling the glass to my lips. “I have.”
“What’s wrong? You don’t like to eat alone, or you don’t bring your main squeeze of the night to your family establishment?”
Everything about her continued to be surprising, including her ability to say anything to me. No one did so much. Hell, even my brothers were often concerned about how and what to say to me. But this woman was fearless, acting as if nothing bothered her.
Absolutely, that fueled the desire.
As soon as I leaned over the table, so did she, daring me to challenge her. I gripped her chin, issuing a low growl. Not in warning, but more as a promise. “I don’t bring women to any restaurant, mine or anyone else’s.”
“Come on,” she pushed. “Please don’t try and insult my intelligence. I’ve experienced firsthand your sadistic… needs. Remember?”
Her smile was as beguiling as her laugh. “Be careful tempting a beast.”
“I have a cure for your grouchiness.”
“What’s that?” At some point I’d learn to expect to expect anything coming from her. When she scooped some whipped cream onto the fork, smashing it across my lips, my entire body stiffened.
She winked before daring to drag just the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip. In two days, she’d already learned how to tease me to the point of losing control. No woman had ever managed that before.
I licked my lips then reacted quickly, grabbing her around the back of her neck and pulling her further forward. “You should know better.”
“Or what? You’re going to punish me?”
“How many times do I need to tell you that I will do anything and everything I want?” Every time I kissed her, the sense of longing to learn more about her hit harder. Every time.
