Rogue (Real #4)(33)
She opens her eyes. Those f*cking DO me, LOVE me eyes.
Her friend Pandora is quiet now, and the car crackles with Melanie’s pull to me, and mine to her.
Hell, I’ve played nice with the friends for a while now, but I don’t do nice for long. It’s just not in me.
I rap the roof of the car. “Drop us off here.”
“Here? It’s the middle of nowhere.”
“I insist.”
With a dramatic sigh, he pulls over at the curb next to an empty lot across from a dark apartment building complex. I help Melanie out, then I grab the roof of the car with my good arm and lean in to tell Pandora, “Happy her friends are genuinely concerned for her. I’m not perfect, but on my word, no one will hurt her when she’s with me.”
She shoots me a quiet glare and her friends drive off.
“She hates men, don’t worry about her.” Apparently trying to soothe me, Melanie grins up at me and brushes a hand over the flat of my shirt.
I take her wrist in my hand, the move instinctive, to keep people at a distance. “Cheerful is the last of my worries. You hungry?” I squeeze her wrist and notice how sleek and small it is in the circle of my fingers, then I realize she’s the only thing I allow myself to touch without a glove. And she feels good. Real. Warm. How can something so f*cking vulnerable have a pull so strong on me? I want to run my hand beneath the jacket and touch all of her, her collar, up her throat and upward, so I can cup that sweet, vibrant face in my hand and squeeze it and kiss the shit out of it. My voice roughens when I whisper, “Don’t eat that lip, I’ll take you somewhere.”
She lets go of that lip as I slowly release her wrist, then we stay there, staring at each other with hardly any city lights around. The diamonds glitter on her neck like her eyes shine in her face. She wraps her arms around herself and I keep my eyes on her as I text Derek, and we walk down the block toward the corner, my gaze glued to her profile. I’m not good at conversation with women—I f*ck them, pay them, get rid of them. I want to talk to her and at the same time, I know I should be running from her.
I laugh softly because I never knew I could be so awkward in any situation, and I cover her in my suit jacket. It’s not cold, but that dress makes me want to devour her. Derek picks us up in a silver SUV then drops us off at one of those twenty-four-hour restaurants that have bad breakfasts, bad lunches, and bad dinners, but it seems to be the only choice to hit up nearby.
I lead Melanie to a booth in the back, one where our backs are covered and I can see the door and every entry. She eases out of my coat and sets it aside, opposite where I sit.
We sit close.
But not close enough.
While we view our menus, I can’t resist myself. I lower my hand under the table, to her thigh. She stares at her menu, but I can see her breath quicken when I start to rub my finger higher into her thigh.
“What do you like to eat?” I ask her, watching her bite her lip again.
“I like what’s bad for me. Doesn’t everyone? A little alcohol. A lot of chocolate and nuts. But I force-feed myself a ton of vegetables to counteract the bad stuff with good. One positive and a negative . . . kind of thing.” Her eyes meet mine, and they’re dancing playfully. “And you?”
I want to feast on nothing but your mouth, your tits, your *, and that f*cking lip you’re torturing with your teeth, teeth I want to feel rasping along my cock.
“I’m a fan of international foods. Anything. Thai, Chinese, Mexican, Japanese, I like different tastes. I enjoy being . . . surprised when it comes to my palate. I like spices.”
“Do you come into the city for work?”
“Sometimes.”
“What do you do for work?” The genuine interest in her eyes makes me feel like a f*cking douche bag.
“Security.” I slap my menu shut. “In my father’s company.”
“Really now? How interesting! I wouldn’t peg you for a man who worked with his father. With anyone, actually.”
My lips curl in amusement as I signal for the waiter, then raise one eyebrow in question at her. “You mean to say you don’t believe I can play well with others?”
“You just give off the impression of separateness.”
“Do I?”
There she goes again, biting that damn lip. “It’s intriguing.”
“You give the impression of playfulness and comfort. I find that intriguing too.”
She grins, a sheepish grin that can’t quite conceal the way her emerald green eyes flood with feminine delight. Maybe I don’t grin like she does, but trust me, I’m just as delighted with her. Once we order, she looks at me and plays with a yellow cuff bracelet on her arm.
“My work is my passion. I’m absolutely obsessed with colors. I can’t leave the house without wearing at least three different colors. Two is too simple. One is absolutely drab and I don’t want to be drab.”
I find myself laughing again, something which seems to come naturally around her. “No way you’re f*cking drab. In fact, right here, sitting with you, I feel gray.”
Her smile flashes the instant mine does, and we laugh until our drinks are set before us, and she sips from her straw.
“I like this,” she says with a long sigh of intense pleasure as she sits back in relaxation. She takes an even longer look at me. “It feels like a date. And it feels like forever since I’ve had one of those.”