All I’ve Never Wanted(153)

A lot of things. “I can show you instead of tell you,” he suggested, his head marginally clearer now that there was a bit more space between them.



“Will it include whipped cream and handcuffs?” she asked, blinking at him innocently.



Roman just stared at her, too shocked to respond, even as some very interesting ideas crept their way into his mind…



“Wh-what?” Then, catching himself, he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “You’ll just have to wait and see. But I guarantee you’ll like it.”



“Well…” Maya dragged the word out, and the anticipation was killing him. Couldn’t they walk and talk at the same time?



Although maybe it was a good thing she was still straddling him, because if she moved, she would definitely see why he felt as though his jeans suddenly felt several sizes too small. Then again, she could probably feel it right now.



Her lips curved up into a small smile, and Roman realized she still hadn’t given him a kiss yet. Something that needed to be remedied, and soon.



“I don’t think so.” She slid off his lap, fixing her strap and smoothing down the front of her dress like nothing out of the ordinary just happened.



Roman just gaped at her.



Maya smirked, stepping closer to trail a finger down his chest and resting it right above the waistband of his jeans, which still felt painfully tight.



“You know, I do like whipped cream and handcuffs,” she whispered in his ear. “But you’re still on probation from that little prank you pulled in the hospital.” She stepped back again and grabbed her clutch off the table. “I guess I’ll just have to find someone else to show me what you were talking about earlier. Luckily, I have a dinner date with Rico in—“ She checked the clock. “—half an hour. If you’re hungry, there’s some frozen pizza in the freezer. Good night!”



With that, Maya blew him a kiss and flounced out the door, leaving a very angry, confused, and frustrated Roman in her living room.

* * *

“Do you really think this is going to work?” I whispered over my menu, trying my best not to move my head in the direction I so desperately wanted to.



Rico smirked, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. A surprisingly refined move for someone whom I’ve always considered to be a bit of a hooligan up until a few days ago. Then again, I always forget the fact that he was still a Tevasco, which meant he was used to fine dining and its accompanying etiquette.



Not that the restaurant we were at was particularly stuffy, thank god. Yes, it required reservations, and the dining room was elegant, but the outdoor patio, where we were currently seated, was much more casual. It was a large, open wooden deck, set over a gleaming pond. I kind of felt like I was on a ship.



“Of course it will,” he said in response to my question. “Trust me. Adri did her part. Now we just have to sit and wait.”



“I suppose.” I settled back in my chair and took a sip of water.



Surprisingly, I was enjoying the dinner I’d promised Rico. He was still perverted but a lot less scary than he’d been a few weeks ago, and besides, our “date” had a bigger purpose than “thank you” on my part.



Although, the look on Roman’s face when I left him sitting in the living room earlier had been hilarious.



Warmth suffused my skin as I flashed back to the events that had led up to that moment. I’d thought of the seduction thing off the cuff, in response to his own attempt to get me to forgive him. Of course, I’ve already forgiven him, but he didn’t need to know that yet. I was determined to make him sweat a little, even though it took all of my willpower and then some to refrain from kissing him every chance I got.



The warmth increased as I remembered the scene on the couch, the way he smelled, the glazed lustful look in his eyes, how his taut muscles felt under my hand…



“Ahem. Do you need a moment alone?” Rico cast a pointed glance in my direction.



I turned bright red. “What do you mean?”



“You look like you were thinking some pretty X-rated thoughts over there.” He gazed at me suggestively. “Of course, I can always help you out if you’re feeling particularly hor—“



“No, thank you,” I swiftly interrupted. “Sorry, but you’re not my type.”



“Are you a lesbian?”



I almost coughed up my water. “Excuse me?”



He shrugged. “I’m every girl’s type.”



Oh my god. I think I found someone who’s even cockier than Roman. “No! Not that I have anything against them, but I’m—I have a boyfriend!”