Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
"As ready as I’ll ever be," she smiles up at me. I thread my fingers through hers. Fuck, her hand is so goddamn small in mine. Perfect fit. There's no way I'm letting go. Not tonight. Not fucking ever.
"Let’s go, baby," I murmur, and I can’t resist kissing her one more time. Just a quick press of my mouth to hers, but it sparks all the way through me, like she flipped the breaker on my self-control. I want her. I want her so much I can barely see straight.
She laughs, head tilted back, a couple of those curls shaking loose, and damn, I want to bury my hands in that hair and mess it all up. But I don’t. Not yet. There’s time for that later. Tonight, I play the gentleman. Or at least try to.
Outside, my car is parked at the curb and I open the passenger door for her, steadying her as she climbs in, my hand catching her waist. She’s soft, warm, and for a second, I almost yank her back out and take her right here against the side of my goddamn vehicle.
Christ. Focus.
I shut the door, round the front, and drop into the driver’s seat beside her. Fuck me. That dress is a hazard. No way in hell I’m making it through the night without tearing it off her.
Her perfume fills the car in seconds. Lavender and something uniquely Mia that’s got my pulse hammering. My hands flex on the wheel as I try to focus on not immediately mauling her before we even make it to dinner.
She glances at the dash, then at me. “You haven’t told me where we’re going for dinner.”
I take her soft hand in mine and bring it to my lips. “I know I haven’t.”
“Let’s try this again.” Her soft fingers tighten in mine. “Where are you taking me for dinner?”
Damn, she’s cute when she’s bossy. I shoot her a look. “I heard Tesoro Nascosto is pretty good, so I thought we’d try it out.”
“Sounds good to me.” She leans back in the leather seat and glances out the window. “Now, that wasn’t so hard was it.”
"You’re going to keep me on my fucking toes." I pull up and hand my keys to the valet.
I help Mia out of the car and lead her into the darkened restaurant. The place is exactly what I wanted for our first date. Low lighting, starched tablecloths, the smell of garlic and old money.
The hostess leads Mia and me to a booth at the back. I slide in across from her while the host babbles about house specialties. I don’t hear a damn word. I’m too busy staring concentrating on the way my girl is looking back at me.
The waitress appears out of nowhere and asks what we want to drink.
Mia gives her a lazy smile. “House Cabernet. The biggest glass you’ve got.” Then she glances over at me and winks.
Christ, that goes straight to my dick. So fucking sassy. “Whiskey, neat,” I say. “Two pours.”
“Yes, sir.” The waitress sweeps away and it’s just us again.
Mia’s lips twist like she’s fighting a smile.
“You going hard on the whiskey tonight?” she asks, tilting her head. Those blue eyes rake over me like she’s not even pretending to behave.
“Liquid courage,” I tell her. I don’t blink. Don’t even try to dial it down. “Figured I’d need something to help calm my nerves.”
She snorts, shaking her head, and the curls framing her face bounce. All I want to do is fuck up that pretty hair by fisting my hands in it while I have her screaming my name.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of little ole’ me, McLinden.”
“Terrified.” Fuck if that isn’t the truth. This girl holds the key to my future happiness in the palm of her hand.
The waitress returns with our drinks. She sets the glass down in front of Mia, and holy hell. The glass is enormous. There’s no way she’ll finish that.
Mia picks it up and takes a slow, confident sip, eyes locked on me across the flickering candle. I'm dying to lick that Cabernet off her lips.
The waitress rattles off the specials in a blur, but I don’t catch a damn word because Mia’s tongue swirls behind that glass and my cock is throwing a house party under the table.
I grip the edge of the table, focusing on my breathing like I’m killing a penalty and the game’s on my shoulders. Jesus Christ. She just sits there, sipping wine, fucking with my focus.
We order and I have no clue what I tell the waitress. All that matters is Mia. Once our food comes, she digs in and I watch the way she tilts her head when something’s good, the small noises she tries to hide. I take it in, every fucking detail, burning it into my memory. Goddamn. She’s already got me wrapped around her little finger.