“Which is yours?”
“I’m just down this alley. I’ll be fine. Thanks again.” I say, waving and attempting to scurry away from him with my tail tucked between my legs.
He ignores my dismissal and begins walking toward the dimly lit alley. I remain still on the sidewalk and say, “Mr. Bossy is back again, I see.”
He stops and turns on his heel to glare at me. The purple light is glowing through his disheveled spiky hair and gives him a tasty glow. I glance down to see the green light is shooting down over my dress. I try crossing my arms over my chest to look more intimidating now that I’m the colour of the Hulk.
“I’m not about to let a beautiful woman in a white evening gown walk down an alley at night by herself.” His voice has an edge of annoyance to it. “Some people would call it gentlemanly.”
Beautiful. He said beautiful. My nerves sizzle beneath my skin as just one word uttered from his perfectly shaped mouth made him instantly hot to me again. Okay, fine, he never stopped being hot. But with the way he was behaving, I was trying my hardest to be put off by him.
“I’m not some people.”
With a huff of a laugh, he replies, “I’ve gathered.”
He unbuttons his suit coat and opens it just enough to slide his hands into his trouser pockets. My eyes follow the action and land right on his crotch. I look up and the cheeky bugger is smirking at me. I look away, back to feeling mortified once again. So much for a Hulk smash.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m not quite going home yet.”
His scowl is back as his jaw shifts back and forth in obvious annoyance. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean, I have an errand to run.”
“An errand. At nearly,” he looks at his watch, “eleven o’clock at night. What on earth—”
“It was my birthday yesterday and I still have to have my cake. There’s a bakery around the corner that closes in five minutes, and if you don’t shut up and leave, I’m not going to get my birthday cake and I bloody well love cake.” I think I stamp my foot, but I’m too busy thinking about cake to notice.
“Cake. You want cake?”
I nod earnestly.
“Well then, let’s get some cake.”
LET HER EAT CAKE
Fucking cake, I think to myself as I follow Vi past the Hookah Lounge. She smiles at some of the eclectic-looking patrons and my gaze simmers down her bare shoulders, all the way to the curve of her back that leads to her pert arse.
Fucking hell, she really is gorgeous.
Aside from her lithe and feminine body, it’s her face that captures me. She’s got these round, rosy cheeks that make her look sweet and innocent, but then her eyes portray something entirely different. They’re slanted upward just slightly in a way that makes her look sexy as hell in a feline sort of way. Her long blonde hair contrasts with her dark brows and thick lashes. The combination of all her features is sexy as fuck.
Why are you doing this, Hayden? You should have just let her go get her own bloody cake. The last thing you should be doing is distracting yourself.
But fuck if I didn’t get an immense sense of satisfaction when her eyes glimpsed down to my package and her pupils dilated ever so slightly. She feels it. She feels whatever this strange, magnetic pull is between us. It’s moments like this that I would give anything to close my eyes and wish away the dark choices I’ve made in my life…and have it come true. Meeting a gorgeous, luminous girl who seems like she’s got her life together is not something that happens every day. If this were five years ago, before Marisa died, I’d turn on my cocky boyish charm, grab her by the waist, and tell her to fuck the dessert…That we could make our own.
“Here we are,” she says softly, snapping me out of my reverie. “You want one?”
I nod and notice her rubbing her slender arms as if she’s cold.
“Any allergies?”
I shake my head and she orders two cakes from the small to-go window of the brick building. There’s a glass door with BOLT FROM THE BLUE CAKES scrawled on it, and inside there appears to be a darkened seating area. I shrug out of my suit coat and drape it over her shoulders. She turns her head and our eyes connect again, like they have been all night. But this time, instead of feeling annoyance, I only feel attraction. Carnal chemical attraction. Damn if it doesn’t feel good too. The employee comes back to the window with two brown boxes. I quickly grab a tenner out of my pocket and hand it over.
“I can buy my own cake,” she says, leaning her back against the brick wall. She watches me take my change back with a coquettish look that makes it hard for me not to smile.
“You can’t buy your own birthday cake…That’s bad luck or something.”
“Superstitious much?” she asks, grabbing one of the boxes from my hands.