At one point, I convinced myself that if I fucked her, I would get her out of my system, but then I realized just how alive she makes me feel. Nothing else before or after her has ever stolen my focus the way she has. Possessing her isn’t even enough anymore. I need her to crave me the way I crave her, then maybe my obsession with her will fade, but why does it feel like it’s growing even now? Morphing into this unmanageable thing I can’t control, no matter how hard I try to?
Thankfully, I’m very good at hiding all the fucked-up things that run around unchecked in my head. I learned early on I can’t be punished for what I’m thinking if no one knows. Learning to mask my emotions was a skill I honed early, and it comes in handy now as she walks around to my side of the truck and joins me. She steps in close to my side as if she’s trying to huddle near the heat of my body. This amuses me. She has no idea how close she is to getting burned.
I lift my arm, and she wedges herself even closer to my side, molding her body to mine. It makes me want to bare my teeth at anyone who dares to look at what’s mine, but that’s not all. It also makes me feel a strange sense of pride, like she somehow sees me as her protector. Not that she needs one walking into a restaurant, not out here in the suburbs anyway. Going to Kira’s would be a different story though.
The hostess looks us both up and down. When her eyes come back to mine, she runs her hand over her slicked back high ponytail like she’s some sort of Arianna Grande look-alike. Her smile is plastic and wide. All I see are teeth ready to sink into my wallet. “Just the two of you this evening?” She tilts her head to the side, ignoring my girl’s presence.
I nod once to respond, then turn my attention to her. Our eyes lock because her gaze was already trained on me. “Lucy.” Her name slips past my lips without any thought. It’s the first time I’ve ever allowed myself to say her name aloud, or even in my head, to admit she is more than a thing, an object. My mother always warned me that giving things names gave them power, and I’ve been so careful up until now.
“Rafe,” she replies in a serious tone to match mine, but her lips are curled in a mischievous smirk.
“Right this way,” the hostess chirps, sounding way too chipper, but I’m almost thankful for the interruption. I didn’t know if I was going to kiss the smirk off her lips, or throw her over my shoulder and demand she apologize for getting so deep into my fucking head that I don’t know which way is up.
Once Lucy starts walking, I move with her, following the hostess, who puts a lot of effort into her saunter. Her ass is swaying as if she’s expecting men to start shoving bills into her waistband.
“Booth or a grill room,” I demand when she guides us over to a table in an overly crowded section of the main dining room.
“I’m sorry, sir, the chef experiences are by reservation. I can see about finding you another table.” She pouts out her lips as if she feels bad for telling me this, but averts her gaze when I stare her down. It’s been a long time since anyone has told me no. I still don’t like it.
Lucy tugs on my shirt, drawing my attention. “A booth might take a while. I’m okay here if you are.” Her big eyes are locked on mine. She doesn’t buckle under my gaze, but I’m not looking at her like I want to peel the meat off her bones either.
I grab the back of a chair and drag it until it’s right next to the other one, and then I release her from my hold so she can sit before I take the seat right next to her. We’re so close, our thighs are touching. There’s not even enough room for both of us at the tiny ass table, but I’m not moving, and neither is she.
“Your waiter will be over soon to get you some drinks and take your order,” the hostess mutters after placing the menus on the table and backing away.
“Does it come naturally, or did you have to practice?” Lucy asks as she leans forward and pulls the menus closer. The skin of her lower back is exposed, and my eyes are drawn right to it.
“Practice what?” I question as she looks over her shoulder and sees me checking out her ass. She grins in response before handing me the folded menu.
“You’re kind of intimidating, intense, if you didn’t already know.”
“You don’t seem intimidated,” I counter, even though I know I intimidate most people. It’s a learned skill I’ve refined.
“I was when I first met you,” she admits, then looks down at her lap shyly before her eyes return to mine. “But then you smiled.”
“I did?” I remember thinking I needed to dial it back a little, but smiling? Maybe I really was baked out of my head.
Lucy sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and nods. “I thought you were going to bite my head off before that.”
“Sounds about right,” I admit, and she grins, thinking I’m only joking. Problem is, I don’t know if I am or not anymore.
“Have you ever been here before?” She peers down at the menu, scanning the heavy paper.
“Nah, not here. You?” I take my cues from her and look over my choices, already knowing I’ll just get the fillet. I doubt it will be as good as Kira’s, but how badly can you fuck up a steak?
“No, it smells delicious though.” The waiter is quick and straight to the point, taking our order and returning quickly with drinks and soup. I pick up my bowl and drink it, the way Reo taught me, but she’s all dainty and shit with nice manners, sipping it from the spoon without a sound.
We bump elbows a few times, but when I wrap my left arm around the back of her chair, it gives us room to eat. The steak is okay, not great, but not horrible either. She offers me a piece of her shrimp, but I can’t stand the stuff, so I wave her off.
All I can think about is getting her alone. If I hadn’t waited until the last minute to furnish my house, I could have taken her there under the guise of watching a movie. I wonder if she will ever strip for me. I visualize her dancing just for me in nothing but those big black wings I had made for her. From the very first moment I laid eyes on her, I knew I was going to corrupt her. Fuck, my dick is getting hard again.
I don’t thinkhe’s even listening to me, although he’s watching me like he’s hanging on to my every word.
“I’m going to breed mutant monkeys and become the wicked witch,” I tell him after I get done rambling a little more about Gwen. I was trying to bring up the night at the club to see how well he knows the Jay guy she’s talking to, but that’s pretty pointless if he’s not listening.
His brow furrows a few seconds later, as if his brain just caught up with my words. “Monkeys, I thought you had a thing for horses?”
“So you were listening,” I tease. Rafe places his hand on the back of my neck, and his fingers tighten a little before releasing.
