Page 57 of The Autumn We Fell in Love

Just a little.

But the effect it has on Shira makes me want to get so much naughtier.

I catch her watching me as I consume my torte. So I slow down, using my tongue to sensuously lick the berry compote from my spoon.

In an instant her chin is dangling, the flush in her cheeks has bled down to her chest, and her green eyes are heavy with a familiar sight.

Lust.

But while I’ve grown tired of seeing it on strange women’s eye at the club, on Shira it looks good.

Damn good.

It feels like an invitation, even though I know it’s not. My body refuses to listen to my brain, though. My cock’s suddenly standing at attention, throbbing with need. Thank god for the sweeping tablecloth covering my lap.

The desire in Shira’s eyes also feels like possibility. Like hope. Before this moment, I wasn’t sure if she wants me like I want her.

Now I know.

And that changes everything.

I set my spoon down and look straight into my — yes,my— woman’s eyes. “Do you know how beautiful you are, Shira Meade?”

Her spoon hits her plate with a clatter. “Um,” she says, flinching, “what?”

I hate how unaccustomed she is to this kind of praise. Every woman should feel beautiful, desirable, and valuable because every woman is each of those things in her own unique, wonderful way.

“I don’t know that I’ve ever seen eyes quite as green as yours,” I murmur, leaning forward, reaching across the table to stroke the back of her hand.

She shivers.

I run my fingers over her hand again. “Do you like that?”

Shira opens her mouth, then closes it without speaking. She does that two more times, then nods, the knot of curls on the top of her head bobbing.

“I likeyou,” I say, eyes boring into hers so she can see that I’m telling her the truth.

She finds her voice. “I like you too, Laurent.”

I lift a brow. “How much?” I tease.

“A — a lot,” she stammers.

Smiling, I capture her hand, folding it into mine. “I like you a lot too.” Frowning, remembering the nature of our agreement, I add, “I know that’s not what you wanted when you asked me to be your date — your fake boyfriend. And if you don’t want this, I’ll never bring it up again, you have my word.”

I study her face, searching for any shred of evidence that I’m not doing everything wrong. But she’s flushed, eyes wide, mouth open in a perfect “O” shape, and wholly silent.

Hauling in a deep breath, I force myself to continue, to follow my dad’s advice, to find out how something will turn out by trying it. “But I also didn’t expect to be so captivated by you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you after the night we met. And after tonight, I want you even more. Tell me I’m not crazy?”

To my shock, Shira laughs.

She actually fucking laughs.

My blood freezes in my veins. Because clearly I’ve read the situation all wrong.Shit.

“No, I’m the crazy one,” she says around her giggles, “to even entertain a single, solitary hope that a weirdo like me could ever catch the eye of a person like you.”

“A person like me,” I repeat slowly, eyes narrowing. “What does that mean exactly?” I wonder if I’m about to be really offended. God, I hope not. But it wouldn’t be the first time.

---