Page 3 of Yours Suddenly

I already know this and don’t really care but I'm desperate to change the subject. “So, like, you can program and stuff?”

“Yeah. Do you know they're about to make sexbots?”

“Oh?” I take a sip from my wine glass. I haven't had wine this good in a while. The only positive thing about tonight.

“Need the bathroom,” he says suddenly and stands up, his crotch in my line of vision. He catches me looking at his boner, which he's making a point to show me by lightly thrusting his hips in my direction as he steps away from the table.

How odd.

I want to burst out laughing but I simply give him a tense smile. He walks away to the bathroom, likely to adjust himself. Or jerk off, I don't know.

I should leave. It would be so liberating to just get out into the night air and, like, run. I’msotiredof going on these dates.

At some point, I might just have to settle. Choose some gross guy and hope things will get better in the future.

I sigh and take another sip from my wine glass and mindlessly scroll on my phone, listening to the soft restaurant music floating around me, the clinking of people's cutlery.

I don't look up when Derek sits back in his seat, dreading what his next words will be, probably something about how women like to be on their phones during dates. Well, I wouldn't be on my phone if he wasn’t a weirdo.

But then a scent reaches me that's so strongly masculine that I instantly look up, my eyes landing on a pair of the darkest, coldest eyes I've ever seen in my life.

Chapter 2

Alexandra

My heart rate skyrockets like I'm being chased.

For a moment I do nothing but stare at a stranger as his scent wraps around me in a cold yet warm embrace.

“Um,” I say, my voice a little faint, “I think you’re at the wrong table?”

The man's eyes briefly drop to my lips and then back to my eyes before he gives a slow, imperceptible shake of his head.

“I'm pretty sure you are…?” I say, my voice trailing away. I swallow, not being able to taste the wine anymore.

He keeps glaring at me, not saying anything. Then he says, “I'm at the right table.”

I… I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say anything more assuredly and definitively.

He adds, “I would love to have dinner with you.”

His voice is deep and sends waves of pleasure down my spine. But his words make me go: What the hell?

“I'm already on a date,” I say with a squeak. I'm sweating profusely and adjust myself in my seat, sitting up straighter toappear less flummoxed when the man doesn't respond to what I say. I have to try and intimidate him too. I raise my eyebrows at him.

His face… his face is absolutely, breathtakinglybeautiful. With thick dark eyebrows, sharp cheekbones, full lips and those burning eyes.

He remains expressionless, almost bored but his eyes don't once leave my face. They don't study my body, or have a condescending, objectifying shine to them.

They're focused on me, almost as if theyseeme.

After a while of staring he says, “You’re no longer on your previous date. You’re with me now.”

The authority in his voice… why does it make my knees clench together? This guy is used to getting what he wants, when he wants it, I can tell. He looks dangerous, not much older than my twenty-two years, but older still. Controlling.

He is exactly what I want to avoid.

I want somebody wholovesme. I'm going on dates because I'm alover. I'm definitely not looking for a man who wants me as a shiny object on his arm, a man who looks like he can kill people with his glare. He looks like the kind of man no one will dare mess with you when you’re with him.

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