The Wrong Right Man(9)
“Is there any chance that when you say you’re going to show me the labyrinth, you’re referring to the movie and actually mean you’re taking me to meet Jareth and Hoggle?”
His eyes flash with approval. “I don’t want to crush your dream, but unfortunately, David Bowie and that grumpy puppet won’t be around.”
“Darn, and here I was starting to think this might be a night to remember.”
“The night’s still young,” he rumbles, and I press my thighs together when I see a look of promise in his gaze.
Lord, I’m in so much trouble.
Chapter 3
Dakota
AFTER SHOWING ME the labyrinth, a cool area of the park with staircases going in all different directions we got back into his Benz and ended up at a small bar near my building, our table tucked into the window alcove away from everyone else.
“Favorite food?” he asks, leaning closer to me, my knees trapped between his powerful thighs as his body almost cages me in, making everything around us disappear.
For the last forty minutes or so, we’ve been playing this game, but even though the questions are completely innocent, they seem to be amplifying the undercurrent of sexual tension building by the minute.
“Tacos,” I answer before taking a sip of wine.
“Steak.”
“Red meat—not surprising.” I smirk as his lips twitch.
“Favorite song?” he asks.
“‘Hello’ by Adele. You?”
“’Runaway Train.’”
“Really?” I eye him doubtfully and he grins.
“Really. Now, favorite color.”
“Purple.”
“Not pink?”
“No.” I make a face.
I listen to him chuckle then watch his lips move as he speaks. “Black for me.”
“Again, not surprising.”
“It’s not?” He lifts his glass of amber liquor to his lips.
“Not at all. Black is a dominant color, and that seems to be your thing.”
“Dominance is my thing?” He raises one sharp brow.
“Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never put a label on myself before or had anyone else attempt to dissect me.” He sits back then eyes my almost empty glass briefly. “Do you want another?”
“Yes please.” I smile, and he skillfully moves my legs from between his to stand.
I hold my breath as he bends, skimming his nose along my cheek, and then I close my eyes as he whispers, “Be right back.”
“I’ll be here,” I say breathlessly, catching the small smirk on his lips as he leans back. I watch him move across the bar, noting I’m not the only woman admiring all that is him. I pick up my glass and turn toward the window that looks out over the street and smile as a couple passes, holding hands with a little boy between them who’s attempting to do a backflip.
“Is this seat taken?” I look over my shoulder and come face-to-face with a man standing way too close.
“Umm.” Before I can say more, he pulls out Braxton’s chair and sits, setting his beer down on the table. “Sorry.” I try not to sound annoyed, even though I am. “I’m here with someone.”
“Really?” He looks around. “Where are they?”
“At the bar,” I say, and he looks toward the bar, and I follow his gaze but don’t see Braxton anywhere in sight.
“I’m sure your friend won’t mind if I keep you company.” His arrogance is not as charming as he thinks it is, and I feel tension start to settle in my neck and shoulders. “So what’s a pretty girl like you doing here on a Friday?”
A pretty girl like you? Really? I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “As I mentioned after you sat down, I’m here with someone. They should be back any minute.”
“Right.” He smiles like he doesn’t believe me and picks up his beer. “So do you live around here?”
“Why?” I ask and move away when he tries to cage me in like Braxton had me minutes ago.
“Just making small talk. I live in the building across the street.” Shit, does that mean we live in the same building? “What about you?”
“I’m new to the area,” I answer vaguely, and he thumbs the label that’s beginning to peel off his beer.
“I’d be happy to show you around sometime.”
Lord help me. “I—”
“Sorry it took me so long, baby.” Braxton appears out of nowhere, cutting me off, setting a glass of wine next to my now empty one, and cupping the back of my neck with his hand before turning to look at the man in his seat. “Thanks for keeping my girl company.”
Whatever his name is—his eyes widen like he’s just seen a ghost and he practically falls out of the chair. “Shit, sorry, so sorry,” he rushes out then stumbles away from the table. I watch him rush across the room, wondering why he looks like his life just ended.
“Are you all right?” Braxton asks, stealing my attention by moving his hand around to cup my cheek, and my eyes lock with his.
“Yeah.”
He searches my gaze for a long moment before taking his seat, caging me in once more, and just like that, the buzz that runs across my skin in his presence is amplified. I pick up my new glass of wine and take a gulp then set it down, wondering if I should do what I want to do.