Page 38 of Wicked Takeover
Lauren laughed.
He stroked her cheek. “I know you haven’t been eating on a regular basis.”
She sobered quickly, her face hot with embarrassment. “Of course, I have. You’ve seen me chow down here every day.”
“Not the pizza I’ve offered numerous times or the takeout I’ve had Jasmina get.”
“That’s for you guys.”
“It’s for the crew. That means you, too.” He ran his finger down her throat to her boob.
His soothing touch registered in her marrow and turned her inside out. She trembled.
“You bring a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch nearly every day.” He’d spoken softer than before. “It’s my guess that’s all you can afford.”
She had no choice except to lie. Pride wouldn’t allow truth with this. “I love peanut butter.”
“You’ll like what I have in mind better. No arguments.” With more skill and grace than she possessed, Dante helped her from the table, jumped off, and grabbed his stretchy boxers.
His naked ass enthralled her. She wanted to run her tongue over his hard, tight muscles.
He looked over and cocked one eyebrow. “You being bad?”
Impossibly so and it felt damn good. “You gonna spank me again if I am?”
“Nope. No more spanking, no more anything if you don’t get dressed.”
Lauren pushed out her bottom lip. “Prick.”
He grinned. “You have no idea.”
She had some. Her skin still tingled from her memories of him inside her. She dressed quickly.
Once outside, he locked the parlor door and took her hand. The way a man does with a woman he’s dating. Not that she and Dante ever would. Once she found a job or sold this place, she doubted they’d even see each other again. Not wanting to think about that, she tightened her fingers around his. Dante squeezed her in return and breezed past her car, the only vehicle in front of Wicked Brand. “Where did you park?”
“Didn’t. I live nearby and can walk.”
Despite the hour, tourists strolled down the streets and restaurants still hummed. Diners enjoyed the warm evening air on outdoor patios. Utensils clacked against plates. Conversation, laughter, and a range of music filled the sidewalks. The sky was surprisingly clear with a zillion stars. Too many for Lauren to wish on, though she tried, hoping for the impossible: that this moment would never end. A gentle breeze cooled the sticky night and delivered sweet perfume from flowers and mouthwatering scents from Mexican, Thai, Jamaican, and other ethnic cuisines.
Her stomach rumbled.
Dante glanced over with a grin.
In the soft glow from antique streetlamps, he looked like a fallen angel, wickedly handsome, virile as all hell.
“You sound hungry. Wait, let me rephrase that. You’re starving, got it?” His stern manner left no room for debate. “You like meat?”
She deliberately regarded the beautiful bulge behind his fly. “Don’t know. You never gave me a chance to eat you.”
He laughed. “Meat meat. As in food.”
She liked that, too, but was surprised he hadn’t offered to let her pleasure him orally. Not out here, of course, but earlier, at the parlor. She sensed they wouldn’t return there tonight for carnal dessert. Despite her disappointment, she kept up a cheery front. “I’ve been known to enjoy it.”
“Good.” He squeezed her fingers, picked up his pace, and led her past colorful storefronts painted in bright, primary colors. Tiny white Christmas lights twinkled around windows and doors. Even the palm trees boasted the sparkling decorations on their trunks, which added a festive air. Stuff she hadn’t indulged in before tonight. There’d been too many problems to solve, money to earn, bills to pay.
Dante turned the corner.
The wind brought amazing scents from grilled beef, corn, garlic, and spices that conjured up images of island life: beaches with sand so white it resembled powdered sugar, fronds dancing in the persistent breeze, the ocean tang, the scent of sunbaked skin and sex.
