“You promise?” She purrs.
And just like that, my pants twitch. Because ordinarily, yes. Yes, this would be a promise. A prelude to a night that begins with licking and biting and sucking—stop it!
Eslin tugs me into a small diner, the bright lights and clinking dishes snapping me back to reality—just in time to catch mythoughts before they drag me down a path paved with nothing but destruction and debauchery.
A path I wasdangerouslyclose to following because…you should really see this woman.
The hostess at the all night diner we walk into immediately leads us to a booth and Eslin is walking ahead of me.
“I’m going to need you to stop making comments like that. Tempting me. I’ve been on my best behavior for you tonight,” I murmur under my breath, just loud enough so she can hear me.
Her head snaps back to me, not missing a step as we follow behind the hostess. “I really wish you wouldn’t have told me that.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
We sit at the booth that is at the back of the diner and the hostess announces that she’ll be back with water for the both of us.
“Because,” Eslin whispers, staring me deep in my eyes. “I’ve sort of got this thing for bad boys.”
My ears, and something else, perks up. “Oh yeah? Any particular reason why?”
“Blame it on my wayward upbringing and a lifetime of daddy issues.”
“Lucky me,” I say playfully.
She shrugs. “Except, you’re on your best behavior or whatever, so...”
I suck in a tortured breath. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“You did. And now you have me curious about what I’m missing.”
I lick my lips. “You know what they say about curiosity?”
She raises a brow. “That it killed the cat, right?”
I lean in, making sure only she can hear me. “Yes, but not before the cat was licked, sucked and played with.”
“Mmm,” she moans. “But you’re on your best behavior.”
I shift in my seat. “I am.”
“Again…pity.”
And I can’t hold it in anymore. I do the thing that I rarely do—I blurt something out.
“How old are you, Eslin?”
She blinks, a little surprised by the question. But then answers without hesitation. “Thirty-one.”
And with that answer—my entire world crashes down around me.
“Why? How old are you?” she asks, her eyes narrowing just a little, reading me.
“I’m forty-six,” I say, voice steady but firm. “Fifteen damn years between us.”
She tilts her head, unphased, and flashes me a mischievous grin. “Thatissignificant. But again...” she playfully points to herself. “Daddy issues!”
I can’t help it—despite everything swirling in my head, I smile and shake my head. She’s impossible not to smile at. Impossible to resist.