the charge goes through, I carry the sweets to our table.
She shakes her head. “I didn’t want—”
“They’re for me. I came here straight from the gym and I’m starving. The barista will bring our coffee over.”
I lower myself into the seat next to her, and her sweet scent reaches my nose. I devour her with my eyes and throw up a silent prayer. Sweet mother of God, give me strength. Her gaze goes from the pastries, to my fork. Her eyes narrow in on the silverware, and her fingers curls into fists.
“You got something against my fork?” I ask.
“No.” She shakes her head as if to clear it. “I was just remembering my mom’s Philly cheesecake,” she adds, and I get the sense she’s redirecting the conversation. “Best in the world, and that’s not a very healthy choice for after the gym,” she says.
I grin at her. “Yeah, I know, Mom.”
“Not funny,” she says, and crinkles her nose, those cute freckles bunching together.
“I know but remember when we used to go to my place after school and raid the fridge before dinner. Mom used to—”
“Chase us into your bedroom with her broom, warning we were going to ruin our appetites,” she pipes in, finishing my sentence, much like we used to do years ago. “But we were always hungry back then.”
We both laugh, but it sizzles out fast, the space between us going perfectly quiet.
“Yeah,” I say after a moment, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” she repeats, and then angles her head to glance at my clothes as the barista delivers the coffee. “You put a suit on after the gym?”
“Mmm-hmm.” I pick up the doughnut and take a big bite. “Damn, that’s good.”
“Do you always wear a suit? Everywhere?”
“Yes, always. Except in the gym, the shower or in bed.” I wink at her. “I like casual sex, and wearing a suit to bed just makes it formal,” I say and wonder what the fuck I’m doing. I shouldn’t be teasing her, flirting with her.
Her cheeks darken. “Well, some dates will be more casual than others. What if you go skydiving, or to the movies, or even a romantic hansom cab ride around Central Park?”
“When was the last time you took a horse ride around Central Park?” I ask.
“Ah, well. Never. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do, but I’m not dating right now, and we’re talking about you, not me.”
A thrill I don’t want to feel races through me. “Are you trying to say you want to dress me, Megan?”
“If that’s what it takes to find you a wife, then yes. I want complete control.”
Megan in bed, completely in control. Yeah, that visual is helping my cock. I take another bite of the doughnut and moan as I hold it out to her. “Try it.”
She stares at it for a moment, and her mouth goes slack. “It does look good.”
“It is good.”
I hold it closer and she bites into it. Her lids close and lemon oozes from the doughnut as powdered sugar gets all over her face and nose.
I chuckle. “You always were a messy eater.” I reach out, brush my thumb over her cheek.
She draws in a fast breath, and my hand freezes. Jesus, how can I do this? How can I spend the next month, possibly the next two, with this woman, without giving in to the things I feel?
I’ll be fucked if I know, but somehow I have to find a way.
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