The Pairing (The Proposition #3)(51)

“Dating jocks for me is poison, and when I did date one, I made sure to date the ones at the top of their game. My first athlete’s influence caused me to ruin my chances at medical school.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yes, it is. But what’s worse is I didn’t learn anything from my mistakes because I fell for another one.” With a rueful smile, she added, “At least I got Mason out of that one.”

Pesh laced his fingers together. “Mason’s father is a professional athlete?”

“Yes, he plays football for the Falcons.”

“You know I’m friends with the team’s sports medicine doctor. I could probably arrange something for him. Maybe a little Icy Hot in his cup?”

At the mischievous twinkle in Pesh’s eyes, Megan burst out laughing. “I cannot believe, you of all people, suggested such a thing.”

With a shrug, Pesh replied, “It’s a harmless prank.”

“I realize that. It’s just I can’t imagine someone like you would even think of doing something like that.” When he started to open his mouth to argue, she held up her hand. “I know, I know. Don’t pigeon hole you.”

“Exactly.”

Their main course arrived, and Megan couldn’t help digging into the wonderful aromatic food. As they ate, the conversation came easily. That was one of the things she liked most about Pesh—he was so easy to talk to. Because he was older, refined, and a doctor, she could have felt intimidated by him. But he never made her feel that way. He always seemed fascinated by every single thing she had to say, which was quite a change from most of the guys she dated. They were usually half listening to her while glancing over her shoulder at the TV to get the latest score.

After they finished, the waiter took their plates. “Dessert?” Megan asked, as she downed the last of her wine.

Pesh nodded his head toward the small dance floor. “How about a dance instead?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m really not much of a dancer.” He arched his brows at her as if he knew she was lying. “Okay, fine, I used to dance all the time back in high school and college.”

“Then dance with me.”

“I’m not good at slow dancing. You’ll probably regret asking me the moment we get out there.”

Pesh stuffed a wad of bills into the bill envelope. “As Shakespeare would say, the lady do protesth too much. And I think I know the reason.”

“Oh, you do?”

He nodded. “Slow dancing is intimate, and you don’t want to want to let yourself be intimate with me.”

“You went down on me in a supply closet. I think that’s pretty intimate,” she challenged.

“That was not intimacy. Sexual acts are of the mind where our pleasure center is. Intimacy is of the heart.” He held her gaze. “We both know you’ll let me into your body but not your heart.”

Knowing he was right, she crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at him. She didn’t know why she just couldn’t get up and go dance like he had asked. She’d slow danced a thousand times at parties. What was the difference here? Somewhere deep down, she knew the answer to that question.

“If you don’t want to dance, then let’s go and see the city.”

Not wanting to let him get the best of her, she rose out of her chair. “Fine. I’ll dance with you.”

He chuckled. “Don’t sound so thrilled.”

After he stood up, he took her hand and led her over to the dance floor. She started to wrap her arms around his neck like she was accustomed to, but he put one of her hands on his shoulder and then he took the other hand in his. His other hand slid around to rest at her lower back.

The band finished the jazzier beats of a song and then switched over to another. A lone piano pounded out the opening chords. The lead singer’s sultry voice filled the air, “Like a flower waiting to bloom.” Megan immediately recognized the song as Norah Jones’ Turn Me On. The electricity between them shifted, and as Megan stared up into Pesh’s eyes, she saw desire and lust flaring in them.

Her gaze dropped down to his full lips, and she couldn’t help wanting him to kiss her. As if he read her mind, Pesh’s mouth closed over hers. Darting her tongue out, she sought to find his warmth. When she did, he tasted like a mixture of the wine and spices they’d eaten. His tongue pulled back to trace her lips as his h*ps jerked, pushing him against her. She followed his lead by pressing herself flush against him to where her br**sts were rubbing against his chest. She shivered when he groaned into her mouth.

His thumb slid back and forth between her shoulder blades, and she couldn’t help arching into his touch. As he pulled away from their kiss, he kept his eyes locked on hers. She’d never had a man stare at her so much. It was like he was trying to see through her to her very soul. It both overwhelmed and inflamed her at the same time. It was all part of his slow seduction plan, and it was working.

“Please take me somewhere—somewhere we can be alone.”

His expression became pained. “Megan—”

She brought her hand from his shoulder to cover his lips. “Don’t make me beg to be with you anymore.”

Shaking his head, he replied, “I can’t deny you anymore, not after having a taste of you.”