His Alone (For Her #2)

I know everything. But I don’t need to tell her that. “I know what’s important. Like the way you take your burgers and what kind of beer you like. I know when you lean back in your chair at work you twirl your hair with your left hand. I know that you like to take the stairs two steps at a time, even though your legs are half the length of most people’s. I know you like the smell of lemons and prefer food over flowers. I know your eyelashes flutter when you’re having a bad dream, and I know that a kiss below your ear will stop them from coming.” Her deep blue eyes are locked on mine, and I run my thumb across her wrist.

“I know that you feel something for me that scares the hell out of you, and I know I won’t take you until you recognize what that feeling is. I know that in the end, you’re going to be mine, but you’re terrified of seeing that far ahead. That it’s going to take you some time to get used to me being around. That I’m not going anywhere. That I’d never hurt you. I know all of that, Paige, and so much more.” I lean forward a little so that my words are only for her. “I know I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you, and one day, you’ll say it back. That soon you’ll see that I really do love you. That they aren’t just words. I’m going to prove it to you. Make you fall in love with me.”

Small tears form in the corners of her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall. She’s a fighter, that’s for damn sure. And it’s my most favorite thing about her. I want her to let me fight beside her. With her. Show her she’s not alone.

After a moment of holding my hand, she takes a breath and smiles at me. “You don’t know what color underwear I’m wearing.” She raises her chin a little in a smug challenge. She’s teasing, because she doesn’t know what else to say. She needs time to let all I said settle in, and I’ll give it to her. I’ll give her anything she wants as long as in the end she’s mine.

I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss the knuckles. “You’re not wearing any, kitten.”

She tries to fight the smile, but she can’t. Instead she looks at my mouth, which is running back and forth across her hand as I feel her skin against my lips.

“How is it you know everything about me and I don’t know anything about you?”

I pause my movements and smile at her. “Too busy being dazzled by my incredible personality?”

“That can’t possibly be it.”

The waitress comes over with our food and to offer us another beer. Reluctantly, I let go of Paige’s hand so she can eat, but I don’t have much of a choice, as she really doesn’t play nice when it comes to her mealtime.

“So tell me then.” She glances at her burger and then back to me quickly, like she’s shy about asking.

“I was born in Ukraine and placed in an orphanage as a baby. My mother was a prostitute, from what I could find out, and she couldn’t keep me. I was adopted by my parents, who couldn’t have children and had already adopted two other kids from that area. I was three months old when they brought me to America, and I grew up in Chicago, Illinois.”

Something passes between us, and I see understanding in her eyes. “So you have siblings?”

“Yes. I’m the baby of the family.”

She laughs as she looks over my big body. “Some baby.”

“I have an older brother and sister, but we’re not very close. We love each other, and I go back home when I can, but my work keeps me busy.” I pause to take a bite while Paige thinks about which questions to ask next. She probably has a dozen to choose from.

“What’s with the tattoos?”

I smile and wipe my mouth, thankful for an easy question. “You don’t like them?”

“No, I do. You just don’t seem like the type.”

I shrug and look down at my arms. “I got most of them after I came to New York. You’re right when you say I look all-American, because that’s what most people say. I think I did it to rebel against that.” It also helped to blend in when I worked with thugs. I was a little too pretty, as many had said before. I needed something with an edge. I hold out my arm for her to see. “Did it work?”

She rolls her eyes, but she still smiles, and that’s all I ever want.

“I love cold weather, the Packers and chocolate chip cookies. I can’t stand champagne, I don’t trust cats and I’m skeptical of people who don’t walk barefoot in their own home. I have a birthmark on my left foot, I’ve never met a piece of bacon I didn’t like, and I have a very strong attraction to your ass.”

Paige howls with laughter, and I sit there watching. The way her head tilts back and exposes her throat. The way her hair falls to the side. The way she places her hand on her chest. She’s laughing with her whole heart, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I wish I could tell her more. I wish with everything in me that I could lay it all out on the line. But I need her to fall in love with me first. I need her to see what’s standing between us and give in to it. Because when I finally come clean, I need to know the bond holding us together is strong enough that it won’t break. All the other shit doesn’t matter. How I grew up or where I came from. Small details of my life. Now is what matters. The choices I make today. At least, I pray that’s all that matters to her.

We talk about work, and she asks me simple things that don’t require me to lie or hold back the truth. She finishes her food and some of mine before the waitress brings out the dessert menu.

“What are we having?” I ask as she looks it over.

“You’re not going to order for me?”

“No.” I shake my head, and she smiles excitedly. “Dessert is the most important meal of the day. I would hate to deny you the pleasure of choosing.”

She hands the menu back to the waitress, ordering one of everything. “Life is short.”

She leans back in her chair, and I want to kiss her so badly. I need to pull her into my lap and hold her soft body against mine. But this isn’t the place for that, and I meant what I said to her earlier. Until she tells me she loves me, I won’t take her. We’ve been getting too close to that happening, and it needs to stop. I want more from her than a quick fuck, and I want her to respect that.

By the time the desserts arrive, I’ve finished telling her a story about my first time taking the subway and getting lost.