Page 101 of Give In

He was totally married before.

Still?

With a million questions forming, I distractedly set his large table. I thought I heard multiple voices as I got us ice water, but I dismissed the thought until he came in carrying food.

Allthe food.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Look, I know my stomach was growling, but I’m notthathungry.”

“You said you didn’t do delivery.” He set the bags, containers, and boxes toward one end. “We’re doing delivery.” Grabbing the place settings, he rearranged them so we were sitting on the same side rather than opposite ends. “Want a glass of wine or beer? Scotch? I think Steph left behind the stuff for Mules, minus the ginger beer.”

“So just lime juice and vodka?”

“Okay, minus the ginger beer and lime juice.”

“So just straight vodka?” I shook my head. “I’m good.”

As tempting as wine sounded, Damien did enough to impair my judgment. If I added alcohol to the mix, I was likely to do something stupid.

Damien worked at opening Thai, Mexican, and random appetizers. We plated our food in silence, none of it going together yet all of it smelling delicious. Once we were sitting, he grabbed my leg closest to him and shifted it so it was draped over his thigh. His hand rested on my knee, his thumb stroking.

I tried to pull my leg away, but it was more to see what would happen than a genuine desire to move it.

No surprise, he held it in place. “The only reason it’s not your ass on my lap is because you need to eat, and if I had your pretty pink pussy on my dick, I’d fuck you until we both forgot food existed. After today, though, when we eat, your ass is on my lap.” He paused with his fork almost to his mouth and amended, “When we do almost anything, your ass will be on my lap, but that includes eating.”

Shaking my head, I ignored the wetness that pooled between my thighs as I dove deeper into the denial I was drowning in. “I’m not sitting on your lap while we eat because I’m not eating with you again. This was—”

“Isthe beginning. You know it, and I’ve known it for months, Eden. I’m done fighting it. I’m done trying to be the good guy.”

“That was you trying to be a good guy?”

Thwap.

His hand landed between my thighs in a soft blow. “Attitude.” He pointed to my plate with his fork. “Eat.”

I dug in, too hungry to argue for the sake of arguing.

It took a few minutes for me to stop bracing, anticipating whatever ridiculous caveman declaration he’d make next. When I finally relaxed, the conversation flowed comfortably. Easily. We had a lot in common, but the things we disagreed on were fun to debate.

The longer we talked, the harder it was to pretend that what we shared was just physical. Yes, Damien was sexy. But he was also charming. Brilliant. Witty and funny. He was as passionate and sensitive as people thought, but with the extra-sharp edge of danger that only I seemed to see.

Beyond how badly I wanted him, Ilikedhim. A lot.

Too much.

If sex was messy, feelings and relationships were disasters—and that was without adding in all the additional stressors, like our school dynamic, his penchant for bossing me around, and my penchant for not listening.

Plus, I hadn’t decided whether I was moving. It would be easier in so many ways if I did, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to pack. I didn’t want to continue something with Damien if I was going to be in the wind again.

I needed to make things clear thatweweren’t happening.

That’s what I needed to do.

What I actually did was open my mouth and blurt, “Are you married?”

He set his fork down and turned to me with an incredulous expression of what-the-fuckery. “Am Imarried?”

“It’s—”

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