"Yes," she says. "But not as much as I enjoyed you fucking me."
My veins buzz. She's daring me.
She's pushing every one of my buttons.
"These other guys?" I ask. "What did you want from them?"
"Which ones?"
Fuck. "The last one?"
"An ex… it was one time. Rushed. Not satisfying."
"Before that?"
"I dated a guy for a while. Noah."
"What was he like?"
"Sweet. Funny. Tall."
"Tall?"
She laughs. "Yes."
"He must have been a fascinating man. If tall is his third descriptor."
"You're still jealous." She smiles. "I kind of like it."
I'm too fucking jealous. I want to kill him.
Because he's touched her.
Because he groaned her name.
Because he was capable of loving her.
She smiles. "I should milk this for all it's worth. Since I only have the one ex-boyfriend."
"And these other guys."
She nods. "I didn't think you'd be jealous."
Me either. But here we are.
"I really shouldn't tell you the truth," she says. "But I will. Because… that will make this easier. If we're honest when we're alone."
It might. Or the truth might hurt her. "Is that a promise?"
"What would it be? I'll never lie to you? That seems unreasonable."
It does.
"I'll try. To be honest. And you try. The best you can."
"Even if it hurts?"
Her gaze goes to the table for a moment. She's stays quiet as she considers it. Then she nods. "If it matters."
"If it matters." I hold out my hand.
She shakes. "The boyfriend… it was short. He was sweet. Too sweet. When I asked him to go harder, rougher—he couldn't do it. And that was the end."
"You broke up right there?" The image flits through my head immediately.
Indigo in her apartment, in a tiny twin bed, in black lingerie. Some clean-cut All-American guy kissing her as he slips his hand between her legs.
Jumping backward as she asks him to spank her or slap her or tie her up. Dressing. Leaving.
"No," she says. "But we didn't recover. He looked at me differently."
"Like there was something wrong with you?"
She nods. "Is that what it was like? With Rory?"
No. It was worse. The fear in her voice. The disgust in her eyes. Like I was a monster. "It scared her."
"Right. You said that." She taps her glass. "These are going to my head."
"You should eat something."
"We already ordered."
I don't care. I'm overwhelmed with the urge to take care of her. Wrap my arms around her. Carry her into my bed. Keep her safe.
She presses on. "You could have found someone who shared your interests. A professional, even."
"I invited you here, didn't I?"
Her eyes brighten. "Is that it? Why you want me?"
"Part of it." I haven't admitted that, even to myself, but it's true.
I've had that craving for a long time. And no way to feed it.
She holds my gaze until the waitress drops off our food.
I finish my last sip. "I do like you. I enjoy your company."
"My company?" She raises a brow as she picks up her fork. "I can imagine."
"I hope you do."
She half-smiles. "I like you too." She swirls a strand of pasta on her fork. Brings it to her lips. "Whatever that means."
I'm not sure what it means. If it means anything.
It's been a long time since I've liked a woman. Since I've considered liking a woman.
And now it's Indie. The woman I'm going to marry.
We're committed to ten years together and we're only at I like you.
But that's all I can offer her. It's not fair to ask for more.
Or promise more.
Only this.
I push the conversation to safer topics. Her sister. Her hatred of jogging. Her love of Carole King.
She groans over her pasta. Accepts bites of my seared fish and sautéed spinach. Teases me about ordering something so healthy.
"Always in control." She finishes her last sip. "Always restrained." Her eyes pass over me slowly. "Until you aren't."
My balls tighten.
She's daring me. She knows better.
So I tease her back as we order tea and dessert.
Indie doesn't like sweets, not really, but she still groans over the rich chocolate torte.
She takes tiny bites between sips of her hand rolled black tea from China.
The best. For her.
Always.
When we finish, I pay, make a show of helping Indigo to her feet, walking her to the door, all the way to the car I have reserved.
"A limo." Her eyes meet mine. She moves a half-step closer. "Is that really what you think would impress me?"
"No." I wrap my arm around her. Hold her close. So she won't stumble. "But I have to do something to make sure you get home safely."
"You don't think I can handle it?"
"I know you can." I open the door for her. "But this way I can offer to ride with you."
"Oh."
"Is that what you want?"
Her chest heaves.
"Do you want to go home alone?" My eyes fix on hers. "Or do you want me to come with you?"
Chapter Fourteen
Indigo
Do you want me to come with you?
What a question.
Of course. I want him to come with me. I want him to press me against this limo, peel my panties to my ankles, fuck me right here, on the street, in front of everyone.
I don't care about the consequences or the risks or the practicalities.
Only the satisfaction of his body over mine.
But what was it he said?
Once he starts, he won't stop. It's true for both of us.
My body is already begging me to relent. It doesn't care that he's going to break my heart. That it's hard enough kissing him in public without falling for him.
After three drinks, my inhibitions are fuzzy.
The voice in my head, the one that's supposed to say do the smart thing, protect your heart, keep it far, far away from Tyler Hunt—
It's a whisper. Nothing compared to my body screaming yes, now, more.
I want him. So badly. And I'm tired of saying no to what I want.
"Yes." My fingers dig into his jacket. "I do."
He presses his palm into my lower back, pulling my body into his.
His eyes close. His lips find mine.
He tastes like bourbon and chocolate and Ty. And, fuck, I need that.
I need him.
I pull back with a sigh.
He stares back at me. "You remember what I said?"
He won't fuck me until I beg him.
At the moment, I'm ready to drop to my knees. Plead, grovel, promise the moon. It doesn't matter. As long as his body joins mine.
Does that mean he wins?
Those are his rules. I have my own.