Page 30 of Mr. Edwards
“What, like more pizza?” she asks, innocently. “Eating half of mine wasn’t enough for you?”
“You and I both know I’m not talking about pizza, Carlee.”
She scoops some more tiramisu onto her fork before running it down the length of her tongue, and I groan. I’m tethering on the edge, and mere seconds away from dragging her into the restrooms and bending her over the sink.
“Oh really? What are you in the mood for then?”
“Are you almost done? I think it’s time we left.”
She gasps. “I’m still eating. Rude much.”
Shaking my head, I can’t help but laugh. This woman is too much.
We sit there in a silent standoff as she continues to eat at a leisurely pace like she doesn’t have a care in the world. My fingers drum impatiently in a steady rhythm against the table. I feel like I’m trapped in some kind of erotic torture.
I sigh with relief when she finally eats the last piece. I place my palms flat on the table, ready to stand.
“I’m not done yet,” she says, reaching for my plate.
“You’re done,” I snap, intercepting it before she does.
She pouts her pretty mouth. “You’re no fun.”
“I disagree. Let’s get out of here and I’ll show you just how much fun I can be.” I signal the server, handing him my uneaten dessert. “Box this up and bring us the check… make it snappy.”
Chapter 6
Carlee
Grayson slides his black Amex card back into his wallet and snatches up the box containing the dessert he didn’t eat. Wrapping his free hand around my elbow, he practically drags me toward the door. I bite my lip to hide my grin.
The poor guy has reached the end of his rope.
The unadulterated craving in his eyes as he watched me eat was palpable. It made me all hot and bothered. Nobody has ever looked at me like that before.
The moment we step outside, he turns me so I’m facing him. “Address now?”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t play cute with me, Carlee. I’ve held up my end of the bargain, now it’s your turn.”
“I’m still considering it,” I say, tapping my finger against my chin like I’m pondering. I’m playing with him of course.
His eyes light up with a challenge as he casually slides his free hand into the pocket of his jeans. “What do I need to do to sway you?”
“Well, for one thing, you’ll have to kiss me first.”
“Is that so?” He gives me a cocky smirk, once again showcasing his captivating dimples.
I shrug, feigning indifference. Truth is, I love this back-and-forth banter we have going on. “I refuse to go home with a man who could quite possibly be the world’s worst kisser. What if you’re all tongue and no substance?” I tuck my hands behind me, rocking back on my feet.
His brows furrow. “I can assure you I have plenty of substance, sweetheart, and I have no doubt you’re going to love my tongue.” He speaks with such confidence I know he’ll be able to back those words up. “Once you’ve had a taste of me, you’ll be ruined for all the men that follow.”
“That’s a pretty big statement. You like talking yourself up, don’t you?” I tease.
He gives me a boastful wink. “Just stating facts, sweetheart.” This man has swagger in spades.
“What if your kisses are all sloppy.” I scrunch up my nose in disgust as I speak. “I’d hate to end up all wet, half-drowned in your saliva. Because that would be seriously gross.”
