His smile pulls at his eyes. They’re fixed on me, storm-dark and burning with promise. He leans in, his voice dropping until it’s a growl meant only for my ears.
“I’ll be coming to find you when I’m fucking ready.”
My breath catches. How does he know I need this? The same way I needed the pasta? The man has to be a mind reader. Or at least a me-reader.
And I can’t help but fall for him a little more.
The key sits between us, shining like a dare. I glance at it. Then at him.
My fingers hover for a moment, breath caught somewhere between my chest and throat. I’m not sure if it’s anticipation or nerves, but my skin tingles with both.
When I slip the key into my palm, my heart pounds so hard I can hear it in my ears.
“Now go,” he says, his voice a rough command, his gaze leaving my face.
So I stand up, and let out a long breath before I turn on my heels, and start walking away from him.
Knowing he’s watching my every step.
twenty-seven
ZACH
Sadie crosses the restaurant with slow, easy steps, and people notice. Heads turn. A couple at the bar follow her with open curiosity. A guy near the window nearly drops his fork. She doesn’t see any of it, which might be the sexiest thing about her.
And for some messed up reason she wants me. And if that doesn’t make me feel like the king of the world. This gorgeous, funny, kind woman wants me to treat her like she’s less than the goddess she is.
And I’m going to oblige.
She doesn’t look back once she makes it to the door that leads out of the restaurant. I can see the way she’s holding the key, tight in her hand, her cheeks flushed, her walk steady. She wants this. Maybe even as much as I do.
Still, I don’t move. Not yet.
I pull out my phone and pull up the security feed from the staff area, watching her walk into the private hallway.Past the closed doors. Right to the last door on the right, where she presses the key against the reader.
Then she’s inside the apartment. Alone. Safe. Still on my screen.
She closes the door, locking it behind her, like the good girl who always follows instructions. She stares at it for a second like she’s expecting me to follow.
But no. I want her to relax first. To anticipate. Good things come to those who wait.
Or bad ones.
With one eye on the security feed, I order another drink and check my email.
There’s nothing there of interest. Not compared to the angel waiting for me. I switch back to the security app and see that she’s kicked off her shoes and is sipping water as she walks into the bedroom. She sets the glass on the nightstand, unzips her suitcase, and pulls out her toiletry bag.
Then she disappears into the bathroom.
There’s no camera in there. I’m not a complete bastard. But a few minutes later, steam spills out from the cracks around the door.
She’s showering. Letting herself breathe. Good, she needs this. To relax. To anticipate.
To know that she’s all I can think about right now.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” the waitress asks as she puts the glass of whiskey I ordered in front of me.
I close my phone so she can’t see. “Just the check.”
