I shifted in my seat. This was a deeper question than I’d anticipated. I really liked Joseph, but I wasn’t ready to trust so easily. No matter how badly I wanted to.
“I’m just not used to so much attention, I guess.”
His dark brows lifted. “You can’t tell me that men don’t fall at your feet all the time.”
I practically squirmed in my chair, uncomfortable with such intense scrutiny. “I guess I just don’t spend that much time with boys.”
He considered me for a moment, then nodded. “Well, I’m not a boy. I want to treat you how you deserve to be treated. You need to let me.”
The last held the ring of command, but it didn’t bother me. If anything, his unyielding tone made it easier for me to agree. I could let go of my social anxiety and allow him to take care of me in the way he wanted.
“All right.” The agreement left my lips without a thought of protest.
His dazzling grin hit me square in the chest, and I almost forgot how to breathe. “Good girl.”
That seemed like an odd thing to say, but the words made something heat low in my belly.
“I’m not a girl,” I managed to say, although there wasn’t any fire behind the assertion.
His gaze blazed again, the candlelight catching in his pale blue eyes. “No, you’re not. Does it bother you that I said it?”
I considered for a moment, then decided to tell the truth. “No.”
His cocky smile returned. “Excellent.”
I didn’t understand why he seemed so pleased with my response, but his levity was catching, and I found myself grinning like a fool.
Our champagne arrived, and Joseph ordered our meal without even glancing at the menu.
When the waitress left, he focused on me. “I hope you don’t mind that I ordered for both of us. This is my favorite cuisine, and I want you to try a few things.”
“I don’t mind,” I assured him, and I really didn’t. The feminist in me should probably be annoyed, but I liked that he wanted to share something he enjoyed with me. I craved to know more about him. “Have you been to Delrio’s before, then?”
“A few times. My family owns a similar restaurant back home, and the food here is almost as good.”
I leaned forward, latching on to the first real thing I’d learned about him. “Your family owns a restaurant? Where?”
His expression shuttered, closing him off from me. “New York.”
“Oh. So that’s home for you?” I fiddled with my napkin in my lap, my anxiety returning with his sudden distance.
“Not anymore.” He blew out a heavy breath, and his smile returned. “I like living in Cambridge.”
“What’s your favorite thing about living here?” I asked quickly, relieved that his tension had passed.
He studied me with fresh hunger. “I should think that would be obvious. I got to meet you.”
My breath caught in my throat. It was a startlingly intense thing to say, but it made my pulse race.
“I’m glad I met you, too,” I said.
He reached out and picked up his champagne glass, raising it for a toast. I mirrored his movement and touched my glass to his.
“Cheers,” he said simply, but the toast felt much heavier than the lighthearted sentiment. We were drinking to celebrate the fact that we’d met.
I tipped my glass back and allowed a generous sip of the bubbly drink to fizz over my tongue. I was savoring more than the decadent flavor; I was relishing this moment with him. It seemed surreal that just last night, I’d doubted his interest in me. Already, I felt more bonded to him than I had to any other man, and we’d barely shared anything about ourselves. I wanted to know more about him, but he spoke first.
“Tell me about your studies.” Again, it wasn’t exactly a question, and again, I didn’t mind. I kind of liked how direct he was. It was refreshing and sexy.
“I’m an Art History major. I just declared this semester. My dad wanted me to study Psychology like him, but I wasn’t really passionate about it.”
His eyes sparkled with something like yearning. “I’d love to study a subject like Art History. That’s amazing.”
“Are you into art?”
He shrugged. “I’ve studied it a little. I’ve studied a little of everything. It’s more the idea of it that I like. You’re not choosing the practical route, but you’re following your passion. That’s very brave of you. Not many people make that kind of choice.”
The compliment warmed me all the way to my toes. I’d never thought of it that way. In fact, I’d worried that I was making a foolish choice. My father certainly thought so.
“Thank you,” I said. “What was your major?”
His expression went carefully blank again, and my stomach dropped. I’d touched on a tense subject again without meaning to.
“I didn’t go to college. I wanted to, but I didn’t get the opportunity. It’s one of the reasons I moved to Cambridge. I wanted to see what it was like, living in a college town.” His gaze turned inward. “Sometimes, I think I’m torturing myself.”
I was sure he hadn’t intended to say that last part aloud.
I reached out and covered his hand with mine, calling his attention back to me. I didn’t know if finances had prevented him from attending college or something else, but I wasn’t going to press him about it. It clearly was a sore subject for him, and I didn’t want to ruin the evening.
“Well, I’m glad you moved here,” I said fervently. “Really glad.”
His smile returned, and relief washed through me. He turned his hand so that his palm pressed against mine, and his thumb caressed my fingers. “Me too.”
The rest of dinner was more lighthearted. Joseph shared his favorite dishes with me, occasionally feeding me from his plate. It was strange and intense and incredibly sensual.
By the time we finished dessert, I was still hungry, but not for food.
“Do you want to come back to my place?” I asked when we were back in the privacy of his car. “Not just to drop me off, I mean.”
“I’d love that. Thank you.”
His gratitude warmed my insides. He wasn’t taking my offer for granted; he hadn’t expected to buy my affection with a fancy meal.
But I was more than ready to give him what we both so desperately wanted. It wasn’t at all like me to fall into bed so quickly, but with Joseph, I couldn’t hold back. I didn’t want to.
Chapter Six
Ashlyn
Joseph’s kiss was scorching, branding. Every kiss before his had been a fumbling, passionless affair. I’d never known what I was missing until our lips touched for the first time. He was harsh and demanding, but he held me with reverence even as his mouth subjugated mine. I felt cherished and utterly consumed at the same time, and I knew he felt the same desperate need that tormented me.
We moved through my apartment and into my bedroom in a frenzy, and by the time we closed the door behind us, my sweater had already been stripped off and tossed aside.
“Turn on the light,” he said, low and rough. “I want to see you.”