Page 30 of Wreck Me

‘Where are we going?’

‘On our first date.’ He flashes a devastating grin.

‘You can’t be serious?’ My eyes fall to my coat, specifically, what little I’ve got on under it.

‘As much as I’d love to sit across the table from you in that decadent lingerie, don’t you have other clothes in that bag?’ He motions to my handbag that Killian collected from the changing rooms.

‘Oh, right.’ I put my hand in and search around for the little black Reformation dress I found in the Brown Thomas sale with Avery yesterday. Thank God for that little shopping spree.

I pull it out and wait for him to turn away or something.

He doesn’t.

‘Don’t pretend you’re shy now, Scarlett,’ he teases. ‘Not when you’ve danced for me. Not when you’ve admitted how intoxicating it is to be watched on stage. You like being seen.’

He’s uncannily accurate.

I slip the coat from over my shoulders. The heat of his stare blazes a trail across my body as I tug the dress over my head.

He lets out a whistle that sets my insides fluttering again. ‘Yep. Nobody in their right mind will struggle to believe we’re a real couple.’

His fingers dart over his lips and my eyes follow. His hands are so huge. What would they feel like on my body? In my body?

‘Scarlett. Sex isn't part of the job description, but,’ his voice is low and guttural, ‘I warned you the other night if you keep looking at me like that I’m going to bury my tongue in you.’

Fuck, ifhekeeps looking atmelike that, it’ll be impossible to remember why I’m not supposed to let him.

Chapter Sixteen

SCARLETT

The restaurant is long and narrow with high ceilings and elaborate coving. With ambient lighting and soft classical music, it radiates a rustic charm. The delicious scent of garlic, herbs and freshly baked bread wafting through the air makes my mouth water.

Or that could just be the sight of James’s marble-sculpted ass in those tailored trousers.

Most of the customers are finishing the last dregs of their wine, the last few morsels of dessert. It’s close to midnight, but the restaurant is showing no sign of shutting.

We’re led to a table elegantly set with crisp white linen and gleaming silverware. The waitress pulls a cushioned chair out for me and I sit, smoothing down the front of my dress.

‘We’ll have a bottle of Barolo, please.’ James slides into the seat opposite and flashes the waitress a quick smile before returning his attention to me.

I take the leather-bound menu the waitress offers and flip it open.

‘What do you fancy?’ He glances up from the menu with a crooked smile.

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Want me to order for you? I think I know what you’d like.’ A hint of devilment dances in his dark irises.

‘Are you always such a shameless flirt?’

‘Just practising a little role play, you know.’

Heat inches up my neck but before he can flirt anymore, the waitress returns with the bottle of red and pours a small amount into my glass. James encourages me to taste it, his expression almost daring me not to like it.

I raise the glass to my mouth, watching him over the rim as the wine passes my lips. It’s heavenly. My expression must give me away because James’s chuckle rumbles across the table.

‘I think it’s safe for you to pour,’ he instructs the waitress.

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