Page 16 of Ready to Snap
“Neither is you wanting to take me home with you,” she counters with a click of her tongue. “We already discussed this. You need to lie to the media.”
I’m at a loss for how to get through to her. Actions speak louder than words. I pull up my dating app and press until it jiggles and a little X appears. “Do youwantto come home with me?” I click and the app disappears, then pocket my phone. “I like you, Elle. Always have. So, we’re going to have dinner, then we’re going back to my place—andyouget to decide what happens. Just want to have a drink? Fine by me. Want my mouth on your clit until your legs are shaking? Even better. There isn’t anyone else I want, and if you need me to prove it, I will.”
A different server approaches with two glasses of bourbon and sets them in front of us. They do a double take, then gasp when they likely realize who I am. I’m used to it, and only glance up once to thank her before my attention is right back on Elle. I wasn’t exaggerating—she truly is the most beautiful woman here. It hurts to look away from the blonde goddess, even for a second. Except she’s more of a temptress than a goddess.
“I’m sorry, but are you?—”
“Yes, he is,” Elle replies for me, and it takes everything in me to keep my amusement at bay. “Thank you for our drinks”—she glances to our server’s name tag—“Stacey.” Elle offers a warm smile, stunning her. “Will and I are in the middle of a business meeting, but he’ll be happy to sign anything you’d like as soon as we’re finished.”
Redder than a tomato, Stacey scurries off as fast as our other server did. As soon as she’s out of earshot, I ask, “What was that, Miss Davis?”
“I’m doing my job,Mr. Darling,” she chuckles, her cheeks now as flushed as our server’s—and I fucking love how easy it is to rile her up.
I move to the seat on her left and her eyes widen. Leaning in, I keep my voice low as I admit, “Call me that while you’re naked and I can guarantee you’ll end up Mrs. Darling by tomorrow morning.” The thought of her being mine has my heart threatening to escape my chest.
“Very funny. So much for discussing football.”
“When was the last time you let someone choose you?” I pull back. Being this close, the temptation to trace her collarbone with my tongue is too much. “Not some guy who calls you when he feels like it or who strings you along with breadcrumb texts?”
“I don’t know. Someone better always comes along for them.”
“News flash, sweetheart:no onebetter came along. You were it, and they fumbled the best woman they’ll ever meet. When I figured out it would be you tonight, I saw my opening and took it. You’re one in a million, and I’d be a fucking idiot to not go for it.” If I closed the distance, would she kiss me back? We shouldn’t do this in public where any paparazzi asshole could snap a picture. I resist and sit back in my chair. “Give me one chance to show you how you deserve to be treated.”
“One night,” she concedes, and a wide grin splits my face. “Don’t get excited. One night to prove you’re not like the other guys… and no sex.”
“You have a deal, gorgeous.” She rolls her eyes, and I add, “Only if you take this seriously.”
Our server slides Elle’s plate onto the table, startling both of us. “Petite filet and”—he rounds her chair to place mine in front of me—“your petite filet.” The way he set mine downwas with significantly less enthusiasm, and I’m worried there may be something wrong with my steak.
“Thank you,” Elle says brightly, and I offer a curt nod. As soon as he’s gone, I pierce my steak with a fork and slice into it—it’s so rare it’s fucking mooing. “Everything okay?” I shift it to show her what could rival a fresh cut from a butcher. “Please don’t eat that! I don’t want to have to explain food poisoning to the press tomorrow.”
“How’s yours?”
She cuts it down the middle and it’s a perfect medium-rare. “I think it’s safe to say you’re not the chef’s favorite quarterback.”
“No fucking shit,” I laugh, scooping a forkful of mashed potatoes. It’s halfway to my mouth and Elle places her hand on my forearm to stop me.
“Don’t risk it. Here…” She moves her potatoes to my bread plate. “Have mine.”
I take a small bite and they are the most bland mashed potatoes I’ve had in my life. “As much as steak sounded good, if I’m going to waste the calories, I should at least do it with a large slice of pepperoni pizza from Tony’s.”
“Yes! Their Hawaiian pizza is so good.”
“Fuck it.” I take out my wallet from my back pocket, retrieve five hundred dollars, and slip it under a tealight on the table.
“What are you doing?”
As I get up, I offer my hand. “Shall we?” She throws back her bourbon and coughs after swallowing. “You didn’t have to finish it. I have more at home.”
“I know what you ordered—it’s over fifteen hundred dollars a bottle without the markup. I couldn’t let it go to waste.”
The moment she’s out of her seat, I pull her flush to me by the small of her back. Leaning in, I whisper softly, “Don’t worry about wasting it. You’re worth it, and any man who makes you feel anything less than amazing deserves to be castrated.” I glance behind her, spotting a few patrons eyeing us. “We can’t be seen together… At least not like this. I’m going to use the restroom while you go out front and hand the valet my ticket.”
Fuck, she smells too good. Like a farmer’s market—fresh fruit and flowers. I slide the ticket into her hand and pull away from her before she can fight me on this… or I do something reckless, like kiss her right here in front of everyone.
“What car is it?” she calls after me.
I pivot on my heel and correct, “Not a car—it’s a truck. And don’t you dare think about driving it.” Then I continue on my way to the men’s room, unable to wipe the smirk off my face.
