I caressed her bottom lip with my thumb. “I’m not answering that until you tell me who that guy was kissing you.”
“That wasn’t a kiss. It was a peck on the cheek. It was my friend, Tig. He met me for an early breakfast this morning.”
“Friend, huh?”
“He’s very married. His wife is also a good friend.”
“So, there’s nothing going on there?”
“No, but if there were, I wouldn’t owe you an explanation.” She wiped her mouth, which was likely still sore from my attack. “So, tell me how you knew it was me.”
“The feather on your foot, genius. Your feet were in the picture of your legs. I used that tattoo to identify you. I’ve been watching you for days. You were apparently doing the same to me.”
She didn’t deny that she knew who I was the entire time.
I moved my mouth closer to hers. “Did you like what you saw? Is that why you kept texting me? When I first realized it was you, I couldn’t believe how fucking beautiful you were.”
“So, all that talk about you thinking I might have been ugly was—”
“A crock of shit. I’m so unbelievably attracted to you, Soraya. And your body right now is telling me you feel the same way about me.”
“It doesn’t matter how good-looking you are. You’re a dangerous human being.”
“You have no idea how dangerous I am when I want something. I will stop at nothing to get it. And there’s nothing more that I want right now than you. But if you can honestly tell me that you have no interest in me, I will walk away, and you’ll never hear from me again. If the fact that you’re shaking in your boots right now is any indication, you’re feeling exactly what I am.”
“I don’t want to feel this way about a guy like you.”
Hearing her say that was a real buzz kill. What the fuck kind of a human being did she take me for? I might have treated people like crap from time to time, but I wasn’t a goddamn criminal for Christ’s sake.
“Let me tell you something, Soraya. I may not be the nicest guy on the planet or even the best fit for you. In fact, I know I’m not. But you can’t deny what’s going on between us. There’s only one end to this.”
“And what’s that?”
“Me buried deep inside of you.”
“That can’t happen.”
“Every damn night, I dream about that fucking tongue ring swirling around my cock. You’re all I can think about. In fact, you were all I could think about before I even saw your gorgeous face. But after that happened, I was a goner.” I caressed her cheek again. “Just spend time with me.”
“If I told you I don’t want to sleep with you, would you still want to see me?”
Closing my eyes briefly, I opened them and said, “I would respect that.”
“I’ve been hurt too many times in my life. I’ve vowed not to give myself to anyone that way again unless I was sure of their intentions. So, if you want to be with me, then there’s no sex. You want to talk to me? Fine. You want to get to know me? Fine. But it stops there. Is that what you really want?”
“I want it all, but I’ll take what I can get…for now.”
“So, when is this gonna happen?”
“Tonight. I’ll pick you up, and I’ll take you on a real date that doesn’t involve someone’s decomposing body in the next room.”
“You’re such a romantic.”
“I’ll go along with the no-sex thing, but mark my words. When the time comes, I’m not gonna be the one begging for it.”
***
FOR THE REST OF THAT DAY, the prospect of seeing her later consumed me. To pass the excruciating wait, I decided to write to Ask Ida.
Dear Ida:
I’m seeing a woman who has made it clear that she doesn’t want to have sex with me. The thing is, she doesn’t know what she’s going to be missing. I’m thinking there must be something I could do to change her mind? –Stuck-Up Suit, Manhattan
About an hour later, a response showed up in my inbox.
Dear Stuck-Up Suit:
I get the sense that perhaps you just assume that all women should want to open their legs to you. I am guessing there is a reason that this woman feels that having sex with you would be detrimental to her well-being. Maybe try getting to know her for a while, give her a reason to trust you. Prove that you are invested. In the meantime, YOU should invest in a nice cold shower. Sounds like you’re going to need it.
CHAPTER 7
SORAYA
SORAYA: WHERE ARE WE GOING?
I’d left work an hour early to get ready. More than half the clothes I owned were in a heaping pile on my bed. Normally, whatever mood struck dictated my outfit. I wasn’t finicky. To me, style was an expression of your own individual personality, not following the latest trends from the runway or from one of the Kardashians. So it was freaking-me-the-fuck-out that I was on my tenth outfit.
Graham: To a restaurant, unfortunately. Unless you’ve changed your mind. I’m more than accommodating if you’d prefer I feast on you at my place.
If it were anyone else, all of the little pervy comments would piss me off. But for some reason? Graham’s made me smile. My answer to his invitation to screw was always to screw with him.