I swear my cheeks flush with a blush.
Damn this man…
Bellamy leans down and gently presses his lips against mine before whispering, “I think you should always wear your hair down, baby. Now let me spoil you. Your dad mentioned you love Dantes…”
I give him a timid nod and try to push away my insecurities and traumatic experiences of Elizabeth getting whatever she wants. I move out of Bellamy’s hold, though I instantly miss his touch. I grab my bag before going back into his side, where he’s lifted his arm and he shuts and locks my door for me. He guides me down the steps and towards the street. Instead of moving away from him, from his warmth, I burrow into his side, causing his arm to tighten around me.
It’s weird, I barely know the man, yet I gravitate towards him. The more he’s around me, the more I want to grab hold of him and never let him go.
“Little bird, you ready to tell me all your secrets?” Bellamy asks as he guides us down the street, and I snort.
“Sure, if you’ll tell me all yours,” I playfully retort as I look up at him, and he grins widely.
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” he rasps, and I swear I may be looking more into it, but I think he might mean his words.
My heart flutters at the intensity, and I choke, “Favorite color?”
He grins widely as he opens the door to Dante’s.
“Dark blue,” he admits with a tilt of his lips, and I shyly look at him.
“What about you?” he retorts, and I pull away from him a little and show him my dress, making him laugh and confirm, “Lilac.”
I hum and reply, “Yep, though dark brown is pretty close…”
He smirks as a waitress I cannot stand walks over and asks, “Table for two?” but her eyes are on Bellamy.
Would it be bad if I bitch slap her?
Wait, where did this jealousy come from?
I clear my throat and mutter, “Yes, please,” a little shocked by my reaction, and Bellamy eyes me with knowing smirk on his face.
The little…
I narrow my eyes at the joy that radiates from him at my reaction, and he chuckles lightly as he pulls me closer into him and kisses my head, making me melt.
The waitress scowls when she notices she’s not getting Bellamy’s attention, and I try not to roll my eyes.
Mariah Mathews, my sister's friend and a grade-A bitch.
Huffing, she turns, and we follow as she guides us to the other end of the dark restaurant. She swings her hips, and my jealousy kicks up yet again, which honestly scares the living shit out of me.
Bellamy kisses my head again, and guides me to a seat, pulls it out like a gentleman, which completely contradicts the biker image he has. Mariah huffs again, seeing she hasn’t gotten his attention.
She slams the menus down and storms off, and I snort while Bellamy chuckles as he sits opposite me, then grabs my hands across the table.
“Okay, baby, twenty questions,” he says, and I can’t stop the grin from forming as he asks, “Before ballet became the dream, what was before that?”
I smirk and admit, “Ballet,” and he laughs.
“Thought so,” he mumbles as he shakes his head slightly, and I ask, “What did you want to be?”
I don’t really know what he did, or what he does, to be honest. I don’t know when he first went to prison, but I do know drugs, drinking, and fighting each time he was sentenced were the reasons why.
“For as long as I could remember, drawing was my passion,” he says softly, “I loved it, which is why, before I lost my sister, I was opening a tattoo shop. While I was in prison, the club still opened the shop and forced me to work there each time I was released.”
“Forced?” I question a little, “Do you not still like tattooing? Drawing?”
