Page 24 of Stolen Dreams

I’ve had my fun. Hell, fun got me where I am now—fatherhood, dream career.

But now it’s time to be more selfless.

“Thank you. I’ll pass along the compliment to my kitchen.” I shift my gaze to the other plate on the table—a half-eaten piece of grilled halibut with citrus segments, diced onion, and minced jalapeños. “How’s the fi—” My voice catches when I lift my gaze to the woman on my left, and I clear my throat. “The fish. How is it?”

Shimmering copper-brown eyes stare up at me from beneath dark lashes. A faint dusting of pink colors her cheeks. The hint of a smile lifts the corners of her lips a beat before she swallows.

Unabashedly, I stare at her. Marvel at her rare beauty. Get lost in her sparkling, red-brown irises. Revel in the flush coloring her golden, light-brown cheeks as she holds my gaze. Take too much pleasure in her reticence as her hands fidget in her lap.

Damn, she makes me breathless, thoughtless, jittery in a way so foreign yet alluring. In a way that makes me want to know more about her. In a way that frightens me more than anything.

SIX

KAYA

My cheeksand neck flame as his umber eyes lock onto and hold my gaze. Thewhoosh, whoosh, whooshof my pulse thrums in my ears as I inhale a shaky breath. I twist the napkin in my lap then release it.

In his videos, the man is undeniably sexy and charming. In person… he’s infinitely more captivating. So striking looking away feels impossible.

I blink out of my trance, wipe my palms over the cloth napkin in my lap, and give a subtle nod. “The fish is wonderful. Delicious.” The compliment comes out soft, a touch raspy.

Clarissa snorts and garners both his and my attention.

“Wonderful?” she repeats in a teasing tone. “Delicious?” Muffled laughter drifts across the table as she covers her mouth with her hand. Her gaze turns playful. “Your moans suggested it was a bit more…titillating.” Clarissa arches a brow, lifts her wineglass to her lips, and smirks. “Wouldn’t you agree?” She tips the glass and takes a hefty sip of wine.

I am not a violent person. But god, do I want to kick Clarissa’s shin right now. Hard.

Instead, I plaster on an over-the-top smile and mutter, “Seriously, Rissa?”

The wicked minx Clarissa is, she presses her arms closer together to make her already ample cleavage more pronounced. A mischievous smile curves up one corner of her mouth as she twists in her seat to face him more fully. “What, Kaya?” Eyes on him, she licks her lips. “Not like he’s never heard his food is provocative.”

My skin heats for a completely different reason, and I tuck my chin closer to my chest to hide my embarrassment. Timid is not a word I’d use to describe myself, nor would anyone who knows me well. But leave it to Clarissa to awaken my practically nonexistent bashful nature.

I love Clarissa. Truly. I love how easily we became friends. Love her out-going, resolute, brazen personality. How she goes after what she wants without shame. I love the way her strengths complement my own. How we lift each other up and support each other without reservation.

What I donotlove is her putting me on the spot, especially with a guy, and she knows it. But she is hell-bent on pushing my boundaries andgetting me out theremore.

Smirk on his face, he chuckles. “Ah, so you know who I am then?” His gaze shifts back to me, his smug grin morphing into a vibrant, breath-stealing smile. The type that makes you forget your name.

The tip of his tongue peeks out and licks his lips a beat before he traps the bottom one between his teeth. The corners of his mouth twitch, and it’s then that I realize I am full-on staring at his lips. For far too long.

I blink away, pick up my fork, and poke at the food on my plate. My face is on fire and undoubtedly a vivid red.

“Doesn’t everyone in the restaurant know who you are?” Clarissa carries on, flirting without shame. “That’s why we’re here.” She rolls her eyes. “Well, one of the reasons. We’re also celebrating.” Clarissa takes another hefty gulp of wine.

His gaze darts from me to Clarissa, then back to me. “What’s the occasion?” Inching closer to the table, he leans forward. “I’ll send dessert when I return to the kitchen,” he says, a breath above a whisper.

Immediately, flashes of him sucking batter off his fingers and licking sliced cake pops in my head.

I clench my thighs.

“The end of school,” Clarissa answers, appearing completely unaffected. Resting her forearms on the table and pushing up her breasts more, she bites her lip. “You make damn good dessert.”

“Thank you.” He chuckles and straightens to his full height. “You’re teachers?”

“God, no,” Clarissa says, tone derisive.

“Rissa,” I admonish before meeting his gaze. “Excuse her candor. Sometimes she’stooforward. We work in the main office.” I point to Clarissa. “High school guidance counselor.” Then I rest my hand on my chest. “Behavioral specialist for all three schools.”

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