Page 15 of Lorcan's Obsession

"Because they are my favorite any-time-of-the-day meal."

An awkward silence hung in the air. I felt pretty shitty. My plan hadn’t worked; it had backfired. Here he was, remembering the loss of his mother, and I was trying to banter about their special meal. I may have been cold about dates, but I wasn’t cruel.

“You know,” I began quietly, “I lost my dad when I was still a teen. We used to make a PB&J sandwich tower on the weekends. The perfect morning was slathering and stacking up toasts until the bread bag was empty." The reminder of the life we used to have was paralyzing to my nervous system. Still, I powered through it and told him things about me that very few people knew. "I loved growing up in Switzerland. It was a magical place. But after it happened, I moved with my mom to her home country, Italy."

“I—" Lorcan stuttered, "I’m sorry to hear that too.”

The sharp edges of his face softened. Maybe he felt more relaxed, knowing we had both endured the loss of a loved parent. This time, he was the one who changed the subject to get me out of my despondent state.

“So what toppings do you prefer with waffles?"

"Mint chocolate chip ice cream, no syrup." I smiled.

His wider grin unknotted the earlier worry in the pit of my stomach. “Noted. I’ll make them for you on our next date.”

Goddammit. That wasn’t a grin; it was a smirk. I’d unknowingly left the door wide open for another potential meet. I needed to step up my game. I was the lawyer, not him.

"No waffles. This is not a date. I don’t go on dates.”

His inky brows arched, confusion settling in his eyes. Had my no-dating revelation shocked him that much, or was I giving different vibes? Regardless, he quickly schooled his features and reverted to our dialogue.

“What do you have against friendly dates?”

“Nothing. It’s just not my thing. The fact I’m sitting here with you right now is close to a miracle.”

“Okay. Let’s call this a non-date then. Can we do this again?”

“Nooo,” I cooed. “We’ve gone so off-topic, Lorcan. Let’s talk fun stuff. Tell me about your home in LA."

To Lorcan’s credit, he followed my lead and steered back to basic small talk. I liked that. The drinks kept flowing and we shared stories about our early life, favorite cities, foods, and so much more. He said my last name, Morgana, rolled off his tongue like spun gold. I felt no need to tell him about WAP, and he didn’t bother to talk out loud about his fuckboy status.

As I got him talking, he gushed about his four close friends that he wanted me to meet someday. I smiled and nodded, wondering why he was still acting like this was a date when it was just two people drinking because of a bet. Could I be wrong? Had seven years away from the dating scene made me a novice?

We ordered a selection of hors d'oeuvres. Lorcan dipped a grilled meatball in chimichurri sauce and fed it to me. I moaned delightfully when the smokey and citrusy flavors hit my taste buds. Seeing the delight on my face spurred him to feed me a bite of everything we had ordered. Meanwhile, I enjoyed pushing his buttons by opening my mouth wide enough to swallow big chunks, especially the round meatballs.

Our teasing while eating led to playing footsies under the table. I trailed my foot higher up his leg each time. If I had dared, I would have grazed my toe against that huge bulge between his legs. The electric sparks of our chemistry were drawing us closer with each passing minute.

As the night dragged on, more and more of the bar life slipped away while we drank and laughed and enjoyed each other. Lust and cocktails were pumping side by side in my bloodstream, and Lorcan was suffering from a similar condition. One moment he was admiring my hands, the next, he was closing his mouth on my fingers. It was sudden, raw, and so damn hot. It took all my discipline not to jump him right then and there.

Excusing myself, I made my way to the universal safe space—the restroom. Lorcan, being such a gentleman, guided my swaying steps over there. He took off for the men’s room while I beelined for the sink.

Splashing some cold water on my face, I pushed my raging libido down to a manageable level. Mission accomplished. Glassy, red-rimmed eyes stared at me from the bathroom mirror, but my face was smiling and flushed with pleasure. Perhaps this evening had been good for me. I’d laughed and relaxed, really relaxed, for the first time in weeks.

Would it be terrible if I eased up my rules and let more people into my life? Hung out with other people who weren’t my four best friends? Took some chances again? As I examined myself in the mirror, I suddenly squealed and jumped backward.

Lorcan was standing in the restroom entrance behind me.

6

DRUNKEN KISS

“You can’t be in here!” I screeched.

“Technically, I’m outside. My foot hasn’t crossed the threshold.”

“It doesn't matter! What if there was another woman in the stalls and she screamed for help?”

Lorcan cocked his head. “I’d say my girlfriend was sick and I was checking in on her.”

---