Beg You to Trust Me (Lindon U #2)(46)

She picks up the fork and cuts a small piece off. “What were you going to say?”

I click my tongue in contemplation. She’s flighty about topics like the ones constantly on my mind, and the one I’ve been thinking about nonstop since her little remark? I’m not sure she can handle it.

But I give her the chance to try. “You can’t tell a guy you’d put anything in your mouth without him thinking about their favorite appendage going there.”

Her blush doesn’t deepen but she does glance down at the cake still on her fork. Quietly, she says, “Oh.”

I tell her I’ve thought about my cock in her mouth, and all I get is “oh”. It’ll do for now. My fantasy and right hand have brought the image to life more times than I can count already. “Anyway,” I redirect. “The pumpkin pound cake is my favorite fall special here. But in the summertime, Bea has these really awesome sponge candy chocolates that I have no clue how she makes. They’re the fucking bomb, though.”

My rambling only makes her gape harder at me. “Did you really just go from talking about imaginary blowjobs to sponge candies in like three seconds?”

Hearing her say the word makes my dick react on the spot. I shift in my seat and stifle a groan as it salutes her in my jeans. “Yeah, so?”

She watches as I reach down and adjust myself under the table before blinking slowly. “Are you…um…?” Her eyes dart toward what the tabletop is hiding.

I scrub my face before nonchalantly reaching for my notebook and flipping it to a random page of half-assed scribbles. “I’m a dude. I get hard easily.”

“Obviously,” she mumbles.

“Just eat your damn cake,” I murmur.

To my surprise, she laughs lightly.

Through my lashes, I watch her take a bite of the pound cake. I can tell she likes it by the way her face lights up. It makes me smile when she does a little shimmy in her chair. I’ll never understand why girls do that when they eat, but it’s fucking—

Don’t say cute, my inner voice says.

“Good, right?” I ask instead, shooting her a victorious grin. “I know the best food in a fifty-mile radius. In the mood for pizza? Bridgeport has the best pies in the tri-county area. Treats? Definitely Bea’s. The diner has the greatest fish fry on Fridays and the best chicken parmesan I’ve ever eaten, but don’t tell my ma that. She’d beat me with a newspaper if she heard me say someone else’s chicken parm was better than hers.”

She goes for a second helping of the cake and asks, “How would I tell your mom? It’s not like I’d ever meet her.”

I shrug loosely. “She comes to my games sometimes, which I was hoping to convince you to do. Actually, we’re playing a big one this weekend that I planned on bribing you to attend.”

When her shoulders drop a fraction at my invitation, I instantly backtrack to make it sound more convincing. “My ma won’t be at this one, but she’ll probably be at the next one. And this is a home game. We’re playing a team that we should beat no problem. It’ll probably be a little cold, but I know you’ve got the gear for it. Bring your friend Olive. I bet she’d like it. I know how much she likes sports.”

“Danny…” Her lips twitch. I already know she’s going to turn me down before she confirms it. “I’m going home this weekend. Or else I would.”

I frown. “Why are you going home?”

“Family event.” Sky doesn’t sound enthused about it. Her sigh is light as she pushes the plate of food toward me and fidgets with her drink. “I really would have gone if I were around. Olive would make sure I knew what was happening. It’s the least I could do with everything you’ve done for me.”

My head cocks in curiosity. “What is it that I’ve done for you that makes you think you owe me?”

She nibbles on her lip. “You’ve been my friend.”

Oh, Skylar. “You don’t owe me anything for that. If anything, it’s the other way around.”

Now she looks confused.

“I know you’ve had your reservations about me, and I’ve given you some good reasons for that. You’ve been through more shit than I probably know. Yet, you gave me a chance. You still are. Every time you say, ‘yes’ to hanging with me, you’re giving me a shot that I probably would have gotten on my knees to beg you for otherwise.”

The thought of me on my knees gives me a lot more images in my head to use tonight when I’m alone, but I push them away for now.

“So, no, Sky. You don’t owe me shit.”

I hear her small intake of breath as we watch each other from across the table. I decide to let her process that for now and change the subject. “Are you close with your family?”

She accepts the turn of conversation smoothly. “I get along with my sister Serena. She and her twin Sienna are 24, so there’s a decent gap between us. But not as much as the almost ten years between me and my oldest sister Serenity. They’re all very…” She searches for the word as she stares at her coffee. “Excessive. It’s not really their fault, though. Our parents are the same way. We grew up in Beverly Hills.”

No shit. “And you came here?”

“You came from Boston,” she points out. “The Hills scene was never for me. And like I said, my family all enjoys living off the riches and reputations they’ve built for themselves. I’ve always felt like an outsider. Different from all of them. I had a few friends that my sisters called the misfits, but I never really fit in fully. I was rich but didn’t dress or act it. My sisters were outgoing and extroverted while I was shy and introverted. I figured coming here would give me a chance to mold myself into someone without money or my sisters’ shadows.”