Page 73 of Scarred by You

JUST DINNER WITH a friend. That’s what I’ve agreed to.

So why do I feel like I did when I was waiting for Clark to pick me up and take me on our first official date four years ago?

I’d stayed longer than anticipated at Teddy’s drinks, the night we first met. But I hadn’t expected to meet a man whose smile could floor me, whose scent took over my senses, whose smooth voice gave me chills. I hadn’t known I’d meet Clark Layton.

We’d had a perfect night that ended too soon. I remember fiddling with my fingers in my lap as we took a cab home together. Clark said he just didn’t want me to make my way home alone, but I still wondered whether he might want to come up to my apartment. I knew his reputation, after all.

I climbed out of the cab outside my apartment, nervously biting my lip, waiting for him to make the first move and stop me from feeling so stupid. He got out of the cab behind me and caught my hand as I started walking to my apartment block. I turned back to him. Part of me wanted to invite him in. Part of me knew, as I had in the first moment we met, that this could be more, so much more than one casual night.

“I don’t want to come up,” he said. “I don’t want to ruin it.”

I looked across his shoulder at the cab driver, who was watching us anxiously. We hadn’t paid the fare, but Clark had left the door open, letting the driver know he was coming back, letting me know his words were as serious as the look on his face. He wasn’t coming in.

“But I’d like to kiss you,” he said.

I swallowed hard as I took a step towards him, my stomach knotted with anticipation. I’d thought about feeling his lips against mine for the last few hours.

He tugged my hand, pulling me into him, his thigh gently pressed between my legs, putting pressure right where I was becoming desperate to feel him. He moved me closer, his palm on the small of my back, until I was arched against him, my body moulding to his. I licked my dry lips and let them part as he gripped my nape. When his mouth met mine, his soft flesh sent heat through every nerve in my body. I felt his kiss everywhere. In every limb. Between my thighs.

I moaned when his tongue brushed mine. His grip tightened on my neck, and I felt him harden under his trousers. Then he pulled away.

“You have no idea how hard it is for me to walk away from you right now,” he all but growled.

“I think I do,” I said, taking a cheeky glance at his swollen crotch. He laughed all the way back to the cab.

“What are you doing tomorrow evening?” he asked, his hand braced on the cab door.

I shrugged, not wanting to tell him I had no plans, but wanting to tell him I had no plans.

“I’m taking you to dinner. Be ready at eight.”

He climbed into the cab without waiting for my response.

“Goodnight, Clark Layton,” I’d whispered through a smile.

The next night I was in my LBD, pacing the floor at seven fifty-five, apprehensive as I waited for him to pick me up for our first date, not knowing if I was over or under-dressed.

“Would you stop already? You’re making me dizzy,” Rachel said through a mouthful of ice cream.

She was midway through the tub, her legs curled under her, as she watched My Best Friend’s Wedding, mildly huffed because I’d bailed on our night out with a promise to make it up to her. It wasn’t a complete ditch. We used to have the same night out every Saturday. We were each other’s plan B, and if one or both of us couldn’t be bothered to go out, we’d stay in and binge-eat ice cream.

“Do you think I’m too dressed up? Maybe I should have gone with the—”

The honk of a car horn cut me off.

“That’s your dinner date,” Rachel sang.

“Fuck.”

“Oh, stop. Think of it like dinner with a friend. Honestly, I’ve never known you be so jittery.”

Nor had I ever been so edgy. But I’d also never felt every hair on my body stand on end under a man’s touch before.

Clark was holding the door to the black cab open, wearing a blue blazer over a white shirt and dark jeans. My heart started racing, and for a moment I forgot how to walk.

“Dayna,” he said with that smile I thought I’d maybe dreamt from the night before.

“Clark.”

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