Page 5 of Tempting Kat
I realize I've been wiping the same table for two minutes, my thighs clenched together. The worst part isn’t how much I want him. It’s how badly I want him to want me back.
Moving to the next table, I try to tell myself I need to get it together and stop daydreaming.
But my brain won't shut up. I keep thinking about earlier tonight when I called him Daddy as a joke while eating his food. The way his eyes darkened, pupils blown wide. The slight clench of his jaw. How he didn't laugh it off or look uncomfortable—he looked hungry. And fuck me if that didn't make something liquid and hot pool between my legs.
I remember how he watched me eat, like he was memorizing every movement of my mouth around his fork. The way he pushed his plate toward me without hesitation, letting me devour his food while he just…watched. God, his fucking intensity. Like nothing else in the world existed except me eating.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. Here I am, fantasizing about some older guy feeding me asada while my sister Frankie's got herself an actual sugar daddy. Not that she calls him that—he's her boyfriend who just happens to pay our rent, buys her designer everything, and treats her like she fucking touches the moon. But same difference.
Well, except that he’s her ex-boyfriend’s dad and you know he bought her time out for three months from Infinity.
Maybe I deserve my own Mr. Moneybags. A matching set of DeLuca sisters with their matching Daddies. The thought makes me snort-laugh again.
“Something funny?” Santiago calls from behind the bar.
“Just thinking about how Frankie would shit herself if she knew what kind of thoughts I was having about your friend,” I call back, not bothering to filter myself.
Santiago's eyebrows shoot up. “Trust me, you really don't want to go there, niña.”
“Why not?” I move to the last table, spraying it down with cleaner. “Too old for me? Too grumpy? Too rich?”
“Too dangerous,” Santiago mutters, but I catch it anyway.
That sends a fresh wave of heat between my legs. Dangerous how? Like, mob dangerous? CEO dangerous? Sexual deviant dangerous? All of the above sounds pretty fucking appealing right now.
“I like dangerous,” I say, tossing the rag into the dirty bin. “Dangerous is interesting.”
Santiago shakes his head. “Not this kind of dangerous. He's not…he doesn't do casual.”
“Who says I want casual?” The words slip out before I can stop them, surprising even me.
Santiago gives me a long look. “You want a man who'll own you, Katarina? Because that's what he does. He doesn't share. He doesn't play games. And he sure as shit isn’t going to take your smart-ass mouth twenty-four-seven.”
“Well damn, I don't know if I can contain my smart ass, so you're probably right.” I grin at Santiago, but there's something about his warning that makes my stomach flip in the best way. A man who wouldn't take my shit? Who'd want to own me? My thighs clench involuntarily.
Santiago just shakes his head and tosses me a rag. “Help me close up so we can get the hell out of here.”
Twenty minutes later, we're shooing the last drunk fucks out the door. Some college boy with too much gel in his hair tries to slip me his number as Santiago practically pushes him outside.
“Call me, sexy,” he slurs before Santiago slams the door in his face.
“Not if you were the last dick on earth,” I mutter, flipping the lock.
After counting out my tips—three hundred and twelve dollars, not bad for a Friday—I grab my jacket and bag.
“You walking to the bus stop again?” Santiago asks, jingling his car keys. “It's late, Kat. Let me drive you.”
“I'm good.” Same answer, every night. “Bus'll be here in ten minutes.”
Santiago sighs. “One of these days, you're gonna let someone help you without acting like it's a personal insult.”
“Today is not that day.” I blow him a kiss as I walk backward toward the door. “Lock up behind me, old man.”
The night air hits me, cold enough to make my nipples harden under my thin shirt. I zip my jacket all the way up and start the four-block walk to the bus stop.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I turn the corner. I dig it out, half hoping it's a text from Frankie because I went from living with my sister to not and I miss her.
But it's not her, it's Vivian.
