Page 56 of The Arrogant One
“Fuck,” I moaned, taking in her breathtaking body, covered in a red lace bra and matching panties. “That set looks gorgeous on you.”
“I guess I’m the one who can’t wait until after dessert.”
My gaze rose to hers. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you can do anything you want to me, Lockhart. Starting right now.”
TWELVE
Sadie
Ipulled into my parking garage and turned off the engine of my Jeep, and with the strap of my bag dangling on my shoulder, I got out. I waved the fob in front of the lobby door and took the elevator to my floor. Once I was inside my condo, I tossed my bag onto a chair and flopped down on my couch, wincing at the slight pain between my legs.
But it was a good pain.
A delicious pain.
A pain that made me smile as I attempted to catch my breath from the last fifteen or so hours.
What had really kicked off the gasping and wildness of the evening was Lockhart’s mention of Dear Foodie. Her following had grown so tremendously that I wasn’t surprised when people talked about her in front of me, not knowing it was me. But hearing him discuss her with such high regard and that he’d used her recipe—one she’d filmed in this very kitchen with an altered voice-over—was toomuch.
So was the fact that his meatballs were better than mine.
But that was the first time I’d ever been in a situation where a man I liked—a man I was basically dating—discussed Dear Foodie with me.
And when it happened, I freaked.
I didn’t know what the hell to do, so I did the only thing I knew that would stop the conversation, and that was untying my jacket and dissolving the bet and allowing him to touch me.
Something I wanted as well.
And it certainly worked.
Because from that point forward, my body became possessed by what he was doing to me. His touching. His licking. His thrusting.
There wasn’t a spot on me that wasn’t caressed by some part of him.
Oh God, it was everything.
And when we eventually peeled away from one another, we ate the meatballs and orzo with the freshly baked baguette, and I was in literal heaven. We had more of it for breakfast, and I left shortly after we finished eating.
But the whole time I was there, I didn’t dare take out my phone from my bag, for fear that a notification would come across my screen and he’d see it.
I had been dying to though.
I wanted a glimpse of his online presence, and I wanted to learn more about him through pictures. Since that was the very way I expressed myself, it was how I related most to people.
I wanted that connection with Lockhart.
And I couldn’t wait a second longer.
I unlocked the screen and clicked on my Instagram app, scrolling to the Greek meatball reel, and I pulled up the likes. There were over forty thousand, but there was a search bardirectly above the likes, allowing me to look up by name who had double-tapped the video.
I typedLockhart Wright.
Nothing came up.
I then typedLockhart.
