Page 24 of Ambrosia Kisses
It hurts like hell to know they were right. I wasn't worthy of her. Hell, maybe I'm still not. But…I'll fight like hell to be that man if she'll let me. Even if it changes nothing and she still hates me in the end, I owe her every ounce of fight I have.
"I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry, Paisley." It doesn't matter how many times I say it, it won't be enough. It'll never be enough. She deserves more than words. If I have to fucking grovel on my knees for forgiveness, I'll do it. Whatever it takes to prove to her that I mean it.
"I don't want to fight anymore, Ridley," she whispers in response, craning her head to look up at me.
"What do you want, Dimples?" I rest my forehead against hers. "Whatever it is, I'll give it to you. Anything. You deserve that from me, baby. Christ, you've deserved it for the last three years. I'm so fucking sorry."
"I want…more wine."
I blink at her, surprised by the simple request. "You want more wine?"
"Definitely." Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, her gaze flickering across my face. "Do you…um…do you want to have dinner with me?"
"Yeah. Fuck, yeah."
Her lips curve into a tiny, hopeful smile. And then her brows furrow, worry filtering through her expression. "As friends," she says. "Just as friends."
That's not even remotely close to what I want, but it's a start.
"Deal," I murmur.
"You really didn't haveto cook for me," she says an hour later as I place a plate on the small table in front of her. "I would have cooked."
"It's all good, Dimples," I murmur, sliding into the seat across from her. "I enjoy cooking."
"That's different." She glances from her plate to me, her brows furrowed. "You used to hate it."
"That was before Italy. It's impossible to live in a country known for its food without learning a thing or two."
"Well, it looks amazing."
"Thank you." I wink at her before picking up my fork. Lucy must have stocked Paisley's fridge before she got here because it had everything I needed to make pesto chicken, garlic bread, and salad.
She cuts off a bite of chicken and pops it into her mouth before blinking at me. "Holy shit." Her fingers hover in front of her lips. "That's really good."
"Told you I learned a thing or two," I say, grinning.
"Uh, clearly!"
I laugh softly, watching as she cuts another bite before popping it into her mouth with relish. And then I have to readjust in my seat because my fucking pants are getting tight. She's gorgeous every minute of the day, but there's something downright sexy about watching her enjoy food I made for her.
Friends. Just friends,I remind myself. It doesn't help, not when she takes a bite of bread and moans.
I want to be the thing in her mouth, making her moan like that.
"Lucy said you finished law school a few months ago," I say, grasping for anything to keep my mind off how much I'd like to place her on my plate and eat her instead of the chicken.
"I did. Even passed the bar exam last month."
"Good girl." I take a sip of wine before setting my glass down. "What's next?"
"I was just offered a position at Crudup in Los Angeles," she murmurs, dabbing her lips with a napkin.
I arch a brow, impressed. "That's the big leagues, Dimples. Impressive."
She shrugs like it's no big deal. "It's good money, but it's not really what I want."
"What do you want?"
