He grabbed his glass of sweet tea and took a sip, and that was when I saw his left hand. And I mean, really saw it.
“Umm, Grey?” I asked.
He lifted a brow as he set the glass back down, “Yeah?”
“Why are your knuckles busted and bruised?” I asked as I fingered one of his knuckles.
He winked, “Some fucker thought it would be cool to grab Soraya’s ass at the club last night while she was out with her girlfriends.”
“So, in other words, you beat the shit out of him?” I teased liking that they did that. That he did that.
“Yep,” he said candidly.
I smiled.
He chuckled, then asked, “You like that?”
I shrugged, “Maybe a little bit.”
He smiled.
And oh, my stars, the way the man smiled.
I stared at his face, at the beauty of it, and really wanted to be pinched so I could be reminded that this was my life. That I was, in fact, sitting across from this man.
“You want to be pinched again?” he teased.
I giggled, “Maybe.”
He chuckled.
Just then, our food was placed in front of us, and when the waiter walked away, he said, “Try to limit the moans. Okay? For my sanity?”
“Then try to limit the bombs you're dropping that are so sweet that it’s making me wet,” I quipped back.
His entire body seemed to freeze.
Then he asked, “Come again?”
I winked.
He growled.
I snickered.
“How wet?” he asked.
I took my fork and dug into my dish. Shrimp Scampi.
“You're not going to answer me, are you?” he asked.
I shook my head, “If I make you mine, you’ll find out.”
He lifted a brow, “Not if, baby. But when.”
I chuckled, then I started eating.
We were halfway through our meal as the conversation flowed easily.
