Page 26 of Craving Danger

Squashing her burger, she smiles at me. “Sure. I’d like that.”

What is she doing?

When she sees me staring at her, she explains, “It’s too big to fit into my mouth, so I have to flatten it.”

Why do I find that cute?

The door opens, and Brian comes in with the bottle of water. He sets it down next to me before leaving the room again.

Grabbing the bottle, I place it between Samantha and me and continue to watch her eat her food.

Knowing we might spend a lot of time together in the future and not wanting to do something that will upset her, I say, “We should talk about the rules while you eat.”

“What rules?”

“Yours. What do you expect from our meetings?”

She swallows the bite she just took, then answers, “I want to get comfortable spending time with you. If that goes well, then I’d like to try holding hands.” Her shoulders slump and she sets the deformed burger down in the box. “I know it sounds weird.”

My tone is still soft and gentle as I say, “Not at all. I assume something happened to you, and this is you trying to heal from it.”

She nods as she reaches for the bottle of water, and only after she’s taken a sip, she admits, “I tried going for therapy but it didn’t work for me.”

Anger begins to simmer in my chest as I get confirmation that someone hurt her so fucking badly she can’t even be alone with a man.

It must’ve been difficult for her to come into my office.

She picks at the bun, breaking little pieces off, then gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I figure if I can sleep next to a man, I might be able to date again. That’s what I’m hoping to get out of these meetings.”

“Just don’t push yourself too hard.”

She nods as she looks down at the food on her lap. “I won’t.” Lifting her head again, her eyes lock with mine. “Thank you for doing this.”

“You’re welcome.”

She gestures at me, then asks, “What’s with the scary ski masks? I understand it’s to protect your identity, but couldn’t the club have chosen something else?”

“You think they’re scary?” A chuckle rumbles from my chest.

I don’t want to know how she’ll react if she were to find out I’m one of the heads of the Cosa Nostra. The woman will probably die of shock.

She scrunches her nose, which I find cute. “It’s a skull. It doesn’t inspire warm and fuzzy feelings.”

“It fits the taboo nature of the club,” I explain.

She picks up a fry and nibbles on it. When she’s done, she wipes her fingers on a napkin and asks, “If we’re going to spend time together, what do I call you?” A frown forms on her forehead. “Right now, I’ve got mystery man and masked man. Both sound silly. Any suggestions?”

Fuck. She has a point.

My mind races as I think for a moment, and coming up with nothing, I say, “You can call me whatever you want.”

“Hmm.” For the first time since I laid eyes on Samantha, a mischievous gleam sparkles in her eyes. “How about Bob?”

Before I can stop myself, I mutter, “Fuck no.”

Samantha tilts her head, and her eyes narrow on me. “There’s something familiar about you. It feels like we’ve met before.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

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