Page 44 of The Front Runner
“Are you implying you’ve never been in a relationship?”
I try to drink more out of the empty beer bottle. I’m like a nervous toddler sucking on a soother for comfort. I absently wonder if beer bottles are the adult equivalent.
“Wrapping those pretty lips around a bottle like that isn’t an answer, Mira.”
On a gasp, I inhale whatever backwash I left in the bottle and end up coughing while he gently pats my back.
“You can’t just keep saying things like that.”
“Answer the question.” His thumb swipes across my cheek, wiping away the tear my coughing fit elicited.
I take a deep breath. “I’m not implying anything. I’mtellingyou I’ve never been in a relationship.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s never served me.”
His chuckle is dark and low. “Why is that?”
“Because the idea of being beholden to a man annoys me. I don’t like having to report what I’m doing or why I’m doing it or where I am. They always have all these expectations, and I don’t like feeling like I can’t do whatever I want without running it past someone else.”
“Why else?” His breath is warm as it pours down the side of my neck. If I turned my head, I could press my lips against his and get whatever this is out of my system.
God. Why are we having this conversation in the middle of my family living room?
To throw him off, I turn and whisper, “Because I can fuck myself better with Mr. Purple than any man ever has.”
I don’t know why I thought that would throw him off. The man is relentless. Like a dog with a bone.
The way his tongue presses into the side of his cheek thoughtfully drives me to distraction. I turn my head away, wanting to see if anyone can tell what’s going on in our corner of the living room. But no one seems to be watching. They’re all lost in their own conversations, happy and relaxed.
Unlike me. My feet go heavy, and a weight lurches through my gut when Stefan murmurs, “Challenge accepted. But I’m not going to fuck you until you’rebeggingfor it.”
And then he saunters away to work the room, like he didn’t just knock me into a complete tailspin.
15
Stefan
This is fun.Not only am I having an absolute ball teasing Mira, but being in a house full of happy, loving family is making me feel like I’m living in a TV show or something. The space is loud, but it’s full of laughter and camaraderie. It’s the polar opposite from the house I grew up in, and I am revelling in it. It doesn’t hurt the food smells amazing.
I’m so hungry.
And based on the less than stealthy looks Mira is shooting me from across the room, she is, too.
She’s been dancing around the house and keeping her distance from me since I told her I was going to make her beg. The way her eyes widened—damn—that’s a look I want to see, but from above her while I slide myself between her legs.
Her cheeks are pink, and she’s smiling. She is stunning, and I’m spellbound. I’m trying to talk to her father about the nitty-gritty details of being a blueberry farmer, but my focus keeps slipping to his daughter.
The things I want to do to her.
If he could read my mind, he wouldn’t be tolerating my presence in his home, I’m sure. He’s gruff and intelligent and gives clipped answers. His eyes remind me of Mira’s in color and the way they flash with a keen cleverness. I would be a fool to underestimate this man, but I am softening him up to me.
Over the music and hum of conversation, Sylvia shouts, “Dinner is ready!” from the kitchen and waves toward the huge family table they have set up for everyone.
I follow the crowd of people. I’ve met them all now, but I’d be lying if I said I can remember every name or relation. It’s overwhelming.
Gravy dishes, fresh naan bread, and the samosas I’m super proud of making all look sensational. When I’m done staring at the food, I notice Mira is pulling a chair out at the opposite end of the table from me. Retreating like she usually does. Backing down. I like her when she fights back. She’s a tough cookie when she’s working, but this shy, softer side in her personal life is a new facet.
