“Peaches?” I laugh. “Is that my name now?”
“I need a wife, Mia. And by the looks of it, you need money.”
“Wow, all that and brains too?” I reply, gesturing to all of Anton and the obviously chiseled physique hiding under his expensive, pinstriped suite. But he doesn’t smile. Of course he doesn’t smile.
“A simple transaction. We marry. You quit today.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I reply. “I’m not a whore.”
So what if he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever met in my life—a man who could grace the cover of any magazine in America. And so what if he could kill me right here with a snap of his fingers? He just spent five minutes wiping dessert off of my face. He isn’t going to.
At least…I don’t think he will.
“Mia, if I wanted to, I could fuck you right now,” he growls, his voice low. “I could take you to my car, pin you down in my back seat and fuck you over and over and over again until you could no longer walk. I would ravish your little cunt until you were screaming my name. I would pound you into submission and force your body to be mine. Even if you did not want to, I would force you to come so many times that you would fall in love with me—”
Jesus…
“But that is not my way. So when I tell you that when you marry me, I will not force myself on you. I am not a monster.”
Wow. No one has ever spoken to me like that before. And I think he knows it. The fact that he is who he is and is telling me that he’s not a monster is making him even more scary. The things he must have done in his life—what would he have to do to think of himself as one?
“You wouldn’t want me anyway,” I tell him. “All I’d do is disappoint you.”
“Not with a body like that, Peaches.”
He can see my body underneath this terrible dress and matching apron? The boss makes us wear this outfit as part of the ‘50s diner panache. None of us like it. It’s beyond frumpy, and I don’t need any help in that department.
“What do you know about my body?”
Before I can react, Anton is in the booth beside me. He reaches out and touches my waist with a cold hand. “I can see your hips, made for breeding,” he explains with a voice that makes me think of a wolf. “I see the way the cloth of this dress is stretched over your breasts and the way your hair falls over your delicate shoulders. And I know how soft and warm your body would feel beneath mine, Peaches.”
God, he’s turning me on. This just doesn’t happen to me. Men don’t have this effect on me, but I’m prickling all over. There’s something going on between my legs right now too, and he’s just planted a seed in my mind that I’m finding hard to ignore.
“And that’s why you want to marry me?” I ask, puffing a piece of sugar-coated hair from my face. “To feel my warm body beneath yours?”
Anton examines me with his eyes. “You have not much experience with men.”
It’s almost a question.
“I...have had as much as I’ve wanted.”
“Which is none. You are virgin.”
I half expect him to get up and leave, but to my surprise, his cold blue eyes almost sparkle. Almost.
His hand on my waist tightens possessively, then moves down my hip to the hem of my dress. I suck in a breath, expecting him to slide his hand where it’s not supposed to go, but he keeps to his promise of being a gentleman. Sort of.
His fingers trail down the exposed skin of my thigh, sending shivers up my spine. Goosebumps break out all over my body, and I pray he doesn’t notice. I feel my nipples go hard beneath my dress. Things are happening all over that I’ve never felt before.
Arousal. Deep arousal.
“Wouldn’t you love a husband like this, Peaches?”
He’s making it clear how much he wants me, and he’s not even shy about it. It’s like he’s found something inside of me to touch, to awaken, and he’s going right for it. He knows something I don’t, and whatever he’s doing, it’s working.
I work. That’s what I do. I have to make money, and not just because I’m one of those girls trying to “get that bag.” I have a mother and a brother to take care of, and they need me. I’ve pushed aside things—things like men—so I can focus on the things that really matter. But whatever dark place inside me I’ve hidden those things that a woman should feel, Anton has discovered, and he’s quickly pushing his way into.
“I don’t even know you…” I mutter as he reaches my knee, dragging his fingers with such sensuality that I can only imagine what else he could do to me.