Playing Hard to Get(86)

Does she realize how much she’s got me? I’m whipped. It’s true. I’m one hundred percent whipped for this woman.

“You’re beautiful.” I sling my arm around her waist and pull her into me, depositing a hot kiss to her glossy lips.

“Thank you. You look…amazing.” She rests her hand on my dark gray button-down that I paired with black trousers. “I love that we’re so dressed up.”

We’re usually hanging out at my apartment in sweats or naked, so this is a big change. “I wanted to take you out. You deserve it.”

“And what did I do to deserve this?” Her eyes are dancing and I can’t help myself—I kiss her again.

She exists. That’s why she deserves it. She makes my life a lot brighter, and I’m pretty sure she’s completely unaware of how much she matters to me. I need to show her. Tell her.

Starting tonight.

“Because you’ve been such a big help to me this semester,” I explain, which only counts for like, ten percent of my gratitude for her. “I got an A on my latest paper.”

A giant smile breaks out on her face and she reaches for me, her hands on my cheeks as she delivers a smacking kiss to my lips. “Oh my God, you did? I’m so proud of you.”

She’s helped me so much. I couldn’t get through this class without her.

I squeeze her waist, my fingers sliding through the cut-out, so I can touch her bare skin. “It’s all thanks to you.”

“You’re the one putting in the work.” She wraps her arms around my neck and squeezes me tight, her mouth on my neck, delivering a quick kiss. “I’m so happy for you.”

My chest aches at her words, the way she feels pressed against me. I’m half tempted to walk her back into her bedroom and have my way with her, but our reservation is in fifteen minutes and it’ll take at least ten to drive to the restaurant.

“We should go,” I tell her and she pulls away from me reluctantly.

“Where are you taking me?” she asks once we’re in my car, heading to the restaurant.

“The Vintage. It’s a steakhouse.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of it. Never been though.”

“You’ll like it. We’ve had team dinners there.”

“Fancy.” She smiles.

We arrive at the restaurant just before eight, and when we enter the waiting area, I can feel my chest puffing out, proud to have this beautiful woman by my side. The hostess leads us to our table and I swear men watch her as we walk by, their expressions ones of pure interest.

I scowl at every single one of them, ready to bark out, “Eyes on your plate!” if necessary.

Jesus, she turns me into a possessive nightmare sometimes.

Once we’re settled at the table and contemplating our choices as we scan the tall menus, I can hear Joanna making worrying sounds.

“What’s wrong?” I lower my menu, so I can look at her.

“This place is expensive.”

“I’ve got it. Don’t worry.”

She bites her lower lip, her gaze going back to the menu. “You don’t need to spend so much money on me, Knox.”

“I want to.” The serious tone in my voice has her gaze returning to mine, her eyes glowing in the dim light of the restaurant. Despite the later hour on a weeknight, the place is packed. But I don’t notice anyone else. Just her. “Get whatever you want and don’t worry about the cost, Jo Jo. Let me spoil you.”

Her gaze softens and she returns it to the menu. “The filet mignon does sound delicious.”

“Their steaks are amazing.”

“You know, I tried to be a vegetarian when I was in high school, but it wasn’t working for me. All I would eat were carbs and my mom would get so mad at me because I’d constantly complain about how hungry I was. I’d even fainted from what my doctor told me was a lack of proper nutrition.” Joanna makes an embarrassed face. “Now I realize I was just doing it because my friends were.”

“Are your friends still vegetarians?”

“They are, actually. I guess I wasn’t meant for the vegetarian life.” She shrugs, then resumes scanning the menu.

She’s so adorable. And sweet. Beautiful. Sexy.

I’ve got it so bad.

The server stops by our table and we order drinks and appetizers. I get a beer, but I’m only having one. I’m driving, plus we’re getting closer to the weekend and I don’t like drinking too much as we lead up to game day. Joanna ordered a raspberry lemon drop and when the server dropped it off, along with my beer, Jo immediately whips out her phone and starts taking photos of the drink.

“It’s so pretty,” she says when I chuckle at her. Her gaze meets mine. “Can I take a photo of you and post it on my story?”

It sounds stupid, but this feels like a moment. Outing ourselves publicly with photos on social media is making a statement that we’re together.

“Go for it,” I tell her.

“Okay, smile.” She holds up her phone and I pose for her, my smile automatic as I study her. She’s smiling as she studies the screen. “Oh, it’s such a good photo of you.”

She hands her phone over to me so I can look at it and I can immediately see it in my eyes, how gone I am over her.