“Quiet,” he says softly and kisses my throat. “Vince is waiting outside. I wanted him to see me follow you in here.”
“Is he supposed to think we’re fucking?”
“We can do that, if you’d like.” He reaches down and shoves my legs apart.
I gasp and slap his chest. “Stop it, we’re not having sex.”
“You don’t want your first time to be in a restaurant bathroom? It’s a nice bathroom, very classy.”
“I’m not talking about my virginity with you.”
“You admit you’re a virgin.”
I take a deep calming breath and stare into his eyes. “Yes, okay, asshole? Are you happy? Is this really the place you wanted to have this conversation? I’m a virgin. Okay? Will you leave me alone now?”
I expect him to release me like I’m made of rotting meat or like I’m glowing with green radioactivity—I’ve never liked the fact that I’m a virgin, but there were never any guys worth being with back in West Virginia and so I never bothered to get close to any, and anyway Riley always encouraged me to wait for someone I actually gave a shit about instead of throwing myself at the first willing dick.
But instead of running away, Calvino’s lips only tighten into a strange snarl and he looks at my chest and my mouth with a wild desire.
Ah, shit, that backfired.
“You drugged the Don of the LA mafia but you’ve never slept with a man before? You’re a strange girl, Grace Murphy.”
“There wasn’t much opportunity in my tiny West Virginia town, unless you’re into drunk date rapists and inbred assholes, so leave me alone, okay?”
“I most certainly won’t leave you alone.” He kisses me hard again, despite me struggling slightly. “You’re supposed to be mine, remember? Mine to do with as I please.”
“Not in reality.”
“There’s nowhere else but reality, Gracie.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean better than you think. You’ve been dreaming about that orgasm since it happened, haven’t you? Ever since I got you off, you can’t get it out of your head. You want more and now you’re sure I can give it to you, but you’re scared, aren’t you?”
“Go to hell.” I glare at him but he’s right, he’s so right, I’ve been obsessing about it constantly since it happened.
His fist moves up into my hair and grabs it tight. I stifle a moan—I don’t actually want his brother to think we’re fucking in here.
“Don’t worry, little Gracie. I can show you how to be a good girl. I can make you all mine, if only you’ll open your pretty mouth, spread your gorgeous legs, and let me take what I need.”
I shove him back and glare. “What part of go to hell don’t you understand?”
“Gracie,” he says, smirking that devilish grin, and I love the way he says my name like he’s pleading but also praying. “You really do fuck me up, you realize that?”
I feel a thrill pulse through my skin. I love the idea of turning him on and making him want me, even if he makes me want to run away screaming at the same time. It’s war inside and keeps on raging every time he’s around.
“Too bad. Remember how you want me to make friends with Charlie?” I glare at him and push him again, and this time he releases my hair. “Well, what would she think if we really were having sex in the restaurant bathroom while out on a double date with her and your brother?”
He sighs and shakes his head. “I hate when you make sense.”
“Yeah, I know. So please kindly fuck off and let me pee.”
“Whatever you say, little thief.” He grabs me again, moving fast, and shoves me against the wall, reminding me all over again of the vicious power of his body and the intense, dangerous possibilities he contains, both for pain and for pleasure. “You’re doing so good tonight, good girl.” One hard kiss and then he’s gone, slipping out of the bathroom, leaving me alone.
I stand there, heart thudding in my chest and trying to understand what the hell is going on. One second, Calvino barely pays attention to me—he’s been actively avoiding me for days now—and the next he’s feasting on my mouth and praising me like I’m an angel sent to fulfill his every desire. I can’t tell if he hates me or if he melts whenever I’m around, and it’s driving me crazy trying to figure it out.
But I rejoin the table a little bit later and the rest of the dinner goes great. I chat some more with Charlie, share stories about back home (good ones only), and ask her plenty of questions about herself (raised in Seattle, lived in LA for ten years, met Vince at a club, real love story there). By the time we’re back outside, I feel buzzed enough and happy enough to give her a little hug, and she grins at me.