For Her Protection-An Alpha Romance(21)

"You can never have too much meat."

He looked far too smug, far too satisfied-especially for someone who'd  left her hanging. She filled up his glass as well then put the bottle  down and picked up her drink.

Connor raised his glass.

"Maybe you're right. The steak I had earlier wasn't very satisfying."

His glass came crashing back to the table. "You don't think it was good?"

She tried not to grin. So he wasn't as infallibly confident as he liked  to ooze. "I'm not saying it wasn't a good steak. I'm just saying it  wasn't satisfying. I'm still hungry."

"Oh … " The tiny wrinkle of doubt washed off his forehead. "It wasn't  supposed to be. That was an appetizer." His voice grew husky, promised  the main course was yet to come.

A ding sounded from her pocket and she pulled out her phone. She frowned when she saw the message.

"What is it?" Connor asked.

"Just Dad's caregiver, I asked her to message me after seeing him." She took in the two-line message.

"And?"

"She says he's allowed her back for now."

"That must be a relief?"

"Yeah," she said but her energy suddenly felt zapped away.

"How is your dad?"

She took a deep breath. Enough of her dad remained intact for him to  want his personal business kept secret, preferring others considered him  a recluse than a … what exactly was he?

"He's struggling to adjust to his life now."

"Which is?"

She tucked her phone away and looked at him. His attention locked on her, impossible to brush aside.

"He has some paralysis since his stroke, but it's the mental  deterioration that's been the hardest for him to manage. He's always  been so capable. So in charge and in control." She gulped some water.  "Now all he has is me. Making sure I do what he can't."

Connor's expression didn't shift, didn't betray a thing. "What exactly is that?"

"It's up to me to get control of Halifax." She set down the glass. "He  feels that Frank took advantage of his illness to take over, and  honestly the fact Frank took legal action to delay me accessing Dad's  shares corroborates that."

A thin line appeared between Connor's brows. "And this is what you want?"

She rubbed the spot between her ribs where a sinking sensation oozed.  What she wanted? This was what she had to do. Want, didn't make it into  the equation.

"Sure, it is." She blinked. The conversation had already strayed into  uncomfortable-now it headed to dangerous. She cleared her throat. "So I  guess you'll be glad when this is all over and you can go back to  running Crowe Security instead of having to play boyfriend, huh?"

Darkness shifted over his features. His jaw hardened. The waitress  reappeared, balancing large plates of food. She set them down and Connor  waited until she moved away before he spoke again.

"Is that what you think? That this is a game I'm playing to pass time?"

Charlie picked up her knife and fork and stared at the steaming brown  mess on her plate. A sharp pain filled her chest at the idea of being  right. Why had he personally taken her on as a client?

Why'd he work so hard to get close?

What was he reporting back to Frank?

"I have no idea what this is."

The plate disappeared from in front of her and her gaze snapped up.  Connor moved her dishes, silverware, napkin and glasses from the middle  of the table to the end against the wall. He looked at her from beneath  hooded brows and reached for her arm, urging her to move. The leather  seat shuffled against her thighs as she slid to the inside end of the  booth. Connor sat down beside her and reached an arm around her  shoulders, but not in a casual, romantic way. The embrace pressed her to  him, made her feel the heat of his skin, the hardness of his body, but  most of all he captured her, forced her attention on him.         

     



 

"I told you once, I don't play games. I want you, Charlie, and I've only  just begun to have you. The sooner you figure that out and stop  fighting me, the sooner you can just enjoy it."

"Why did you kiss me that night? What do you even like about me?" She  forced her head to turn, forced herself to look him in the eye. "Why  would you break every professional boundary just to fuck me?"

His jaw and his gaze softened then he leaned in, put his mouth right  next to her ear. "Is that it, baby? You're feeling insecure, need me to  say some sweet shit to make you feel better?"

Her heart thundered, and split. Yes-yes she was insecure. She'd felt  insecure since the moment she met him. No, since before. A feeling that  was only exacerbated by her suspicions and heightened by how much she  was coming to like him.

His hand moved under the table to her thigh, ran the length of her knee  to her groin. Made responding to his question impossible. "Fine, but I  can't promise I'll be good at it."

He cupped her, his thumb pressing through her jeans in exactly the right  place. She gasped, sucking in a mouthful of air that tasted of the  peppery steam rising from her plate.

"First, I liked your smile." His gaze flicked to her mouth. "I liked  your sexy little mouth. I liked the skirts you wore to work, and how  fucking irresistible your ass looked when you bent over." His thumb  moved, pushed the thick, hard seam stitched into the denim between her  legs. Heat exploded over her. Using firm, shallow movements, he massaged  her. "Now, I like the way you make other people smile. I like the way  you never give up. The way you never give in. Except when it comes to  this-when it comes to this you give me everything."

Her breath hitched. She heard the words and they melted her insides. But it was his fingers that commanded her.

"But most of all, I like the way you see people." His gaze focused on  her, and she stared at him. Need crawled through her body, but her  attention centered on him. "I like the way you see me."

Her pulse flip-flopped. Well as far as reasons go, that was a fucking  good one. Because with his attention on her, she knew the truth-she  loved the way he looked at her. The way she felt pretty, and special,  and wanted, because of the way he saw her.

And he liked the way she saw him-the way she made him feel.

She just hoped the man she discovered in these moments was the real him.

The rattle of plates pulled her hazy gaze across the room. They were  sheltered in this corner, his actions concealed by the table and its  white cloth covering, but even so there was no hiding the intimacy of  their bodies, of his whispered words in her ear.

"Connor … " She turned to him, her cheek scraped against the bristles on  his cheek. They were chin to chin, eye to eye, lips to lips. His breath  tingled her mouth, rushing faster than usual. His half-closed eyes  blazed at her, fascinated her with the flecks of light and dark that  merged to create his deep shade.

"Pick up your knife and fork," he said and moved his arm from around her.

His bossy tone sent a shivering thrill through her.

She took a shaky breath and reached for her cutlery. He returned her  plate. Rich sauce oozed over a huge hunk of meat on her plate. Her  stomach gurgled, signaled hunger, but her body craved another kind of  fulfillment.

"Eat," he commanded.

She sawed through the meat with her knife then brought a small piece to  her lips. The steak tasted of smoke, pepper, and heat. She wasn't sure  if it was extra juicy, if she was hungrier than she'd realized-or if her  senses were heightened, making the flavors more intense, but a hum rose  in the back of her throat. She chewed slowly, savoring the taste, and  her eyelids drifted closed. Sitting next to Connor, she felt as if the  simple act of eating was doing something dirty in public.

He picked up a fry and took a bite, watching her and not touching his  own cutlery. A heavy hand reached between her thighs. Her knife slipped,  making a grinding noise on the ceramic plate. That hand made its way to  the button at the center of her waist and flicked it open. Her hands  froze, her stomach muscles clenched.

"Keep eating. No one knows but me."

She rubbed her steak-juice-coated lips together and cut another slice of  meat. Her zipper slid down and he pushed deep into her underwear, thick  digits going straight for her clit. Her hips twitched, pleasure  streaked into her womb. His fingers moved between her shamefully wet  folds. She cut the piece of meat in half, not confident in her ability  to chew, and placed a bite on her tongue. He moved harder-directly-not  teasing, not playing …  He meant business, sought instant results.         

     



 

Connor finished the fry in his free hand and sucked the salt off his  thumb. Tension coiled in her sex and a moan escaped her. His fingers  swirled firmly, rhythmically against her.

"Sounds like that's a good steak. Is it a good steak, baby?"

Charlie panted and looked back at the plate. His fingers slowed, waiting for her answer.

Bastard though, he was making her eat her earlier words.