“Same, plus a water, please.” I chance a glance at Jo. “I’m paying, though.”
Ten minutes later I curl my legs under me and lean back on the soft cushions of our own personal chillout to enjoy the shade of the stunningly painted awning set up above it. It’s the same style as Sonnie’s ink. I grab the last bit of the pie bar from the tray attached to the oversized sunbed and let my gaze linger on the man stretched out beside me. Shirtless. Bronzed and covered in art.
Brunch with a boy—I don’t do brunch with boys, especially not shirtless boys.
“You’re staring,” Sonnie mutters without looking out from beneath his sunglasses.
“Just wondering what it’s gonna take to stop you tailing me like a love-sick pup,” I lie smoothly.
This time he does look—and he raises his glasses to do so. The muscles that wrap his side and arms flex as he lifts onto one elbow. “It’s all in the signals, baby.”
I suck a drop of pie filling from my thumb with a pop. “As long as you don’t go getting attached.”
His eyes narrow at my subtle-as-a-sledge-hammer warning, but there’s no hiding the bemused tilt to his mouth. “There’s nothing further from my mind.” He leans towards me and slides his hand around the back of my neck to pull me to him. “But while I’ve got you here, I might as well enjoy you.” His lips brush over mine until they part to allow the tip of his tongue to slide between them.
Languid. Easy. And full of dirty, love-free promise.
I don’t pull back. I probably should. But I don’t.
He’s fun. Distracting, and ... end date ... and ... I arch my back when his teeth graze over my bottom lip ... what’s the harm in keeping him around for a while?
“Sonnie? Is that you?”
His eyes pop open and he groans against my mouth before rolling over to face the owner of the shrill Cluan-lilted voice.
I rest back onto the cushions behind me, straightening my dress as he climbs from the chillout.
All dark hair, rocking body, and a barely there, miniscule bikini, she’s pretty ... okay ... she’s damn hot ... and clearly into my new friend.
Not a tattoo in sight. Going by his rules, does that mean he’s slept with her? An extremely underused section of my brain sparks at the stray thought before I slap it back into place. Nothing good comes from that section.
“I thought a food date was a line you wouldn’t cross for anyone?” She doesn’t bother to keep her voice hushed.
I kind of admire her balls. “Just friends.” I offer, holding up a hand when she glares accusingly in my direction.
Sonnie shoots me an exasperated look over his shoulder then returns his attention to the girl and guides her towards the bar. Out of earshot, but not out of sight.
I watch how he handles her. Palms up and open, expression carefully neutral, like he’s done this hundreds of times before. Exactly how I handle anyone who even hints at wanting more from me.
We’re so alike. So, so alike. I can’t decide if it’s an amazing thing that we found each other, or just seriously unhealthy.
She walks off a couple of minutes later. No tears or face-slapping. She’s even smiling. I’m impressed.
I follow his easy stride as he makes his way back to me. Normally men like him hold themselves differently, smug. Aloof. Like they’re God’s gift. He doesn’t have that air about him. At all. Just that easy confidence and wicked smile. Probably makes him even more lethal to the women hoping to snare him.
He rubs his chin as he comes to a stop by the side of the chillout like he’s waiting for some sort of reaction. From me. A reaction from me. He won’t. I’m not that girl.
“One of your conquests?” I enquire lightly, leaning back onto my outstretched arm.
“Yes,” he answers equally as lightly. His eyes may be covered, but I feel the test in his stare regardless.
“I like your honesty.” I twist my ponytail up off my back and fix it with the extra band from around my wrist. It’s true. I do. Even if there is a tiny bit of sparking going on in that section of my brain again.
“I don’t lie. Not to myself or anybody else.” His shrug is relaxed, but the tension around his usually smiling eyes when he removes his glasses betrays him.
I nod slowly. “Good. Me neither.”
The grin I’m pinned with is nothing short of sinful. Those dimples, I think I like them even better than his—my eyelids flutter as my gaze slides down over the artwork that covers him—never mind.