"On who?" She furrows her brows.
I chuckle. "Fuck face, also known as your fiancé, Charlie. I've got nothing, and I do mean nothing, on him." I drop my fork, then trace my finger down her jaw. "If nothing else comes out of this for me, if I lose all the money I invest, I hope you'll at least realize you deserve so much better." I hope she deserves better. I hope she's not like him. From what I've seen, I can't believe she's got an ounce in common with him.
And if she doesn't, then why is she still with him?
My lips will never be the same. Up until a few minutes ago, Charlie's were the only ones who'd ever touched mine. His were the only ones I'd ever tasted, ever felt. Every time our bodies connected, I thought the feeling I had was happiness, giddiness. I don't know how to describe it other than what it wasn't. What it wasn't was whatever just happened when Theo put his lips on mine, when he slipped his smooth tongue into my mouth and let it dance around, exploring, like he was trying to dig at my soul the same way he's clearly trying to dig for answers about what, I've yet to figure out.
Charlie and I met our first year of junior high. We'd both come from different schools, so we didn't have a lot of friends. When we got put in the same math class, we were paired to work on a project together. That assignment led to us becoming best friends. Over time, that led to friends with benefits, and eventually, once we were older, we started dating. I loved him. I love him. How could I not? He's all I've ever known. He's my partner, my best friend. Nearly my only friend aside from Quinn. I mean, we have the guys he hangs out with, but they are shadier than a one hundred year oak tree in the summer.
Charlie has assured me he's not involved in anything illegal with them, that they are just friends, but with Theo's overwhelming presence at my side, his bringing up all kinds of really horrible possibilities that could not only land Charlie in federal prison, but me, has me having a hard time not doubting Charlie. And that makes my blood boil. Because I know Charlie likes to gamble, but he'd never put our lives in jeopardy like that. Would he?
"Jules," Theo whispers, his voice hoarse and cracking. "Say something. Please."
I shake my head, then look through the tinted windows. I guess that's a bonus. At least I don't have to worry about Charlie having walked by and seen Theo with his lips on mine. Because I've seen Charlie in a rage, but never because another man took what was his. It's always been for some other reason. I can only imagine the explosive anger he'd have if he knew about my behavior tonight.
Yet, I'm turning my head back to look in dangerous amber eyes, eager for another helping of flirting because it feels so good to be wanted like this, to have my heart racing erratically in my chest, my panties so wet, and heat coursing through my entire body. That's what Theo does to me. There's no need to deny it.
But I also feel so dirty, so ashamed, like I need to go take a shower and scrub off all the marks Theo has put on me. Marks with his sexy, cocky words, those beautiful eyes, his strong, skilled hands, and now his masterful lips.
So, why can't I stop? Why have I not demanded he take me home again? I just can't walk away from Theo Katawhatever.
His eyes are searching mine, almost pleading. For me to talk, I guess. Both of us dancing around the truth, the real reason we're here. Each of us giving just enough to satisfy the other. I want to trust him. He says he wants to trust me. He clearly hates Charlie. I need to find out more about him. Maybe I can get it now that he's being tender. "Tell me how to say your last name. You know, if you're going to be a client, I should know."
He smirks. Damn, he's so sexy, yet cute, when he does that. "Kat." He nods toward me. "Say it."
"Kat."
"A."
I smile. This feels like I'm in kindergarten, but it's fun, light. Comfortable. And seeing as he nearly kidnapped me, it shouldn't be any of those things. None of the adjectives that describe how I feel when I'm with him are okay. Not because of how he got me to dinner, not because he's been controlling me, but because I have a diamond on my left ring finger. I flick the band, turning the diamond toward my palm.
"Geeda." He emphasizes the beginning and the end. His eyes enlarge a little when he does it.
"Do you like teaching Greek to people? Geeda."
"I like teaching it to you." He brushes my nose with the pad of his finger. "Put it together now. Kataigída," he says with that accent of his, grinning even bigger. "You try."
"Katai." I attempt to mimic the movements of his tongue, the way it kind of sticks to the back of his top teeth, but just a sliver slips through. I do the same with the second part. "Gída. How was that?"
He shakes his head. "Nope. Say it again."
My eyes widen. I said it almost exactly like he did. What's he talking about. "But?"
He puts his finger over my lips. "Shh. You said it so perfect. I've never loved my name so much in my entire life, Jules. Both of them. Say the whole thing. Theo Kataigída. Just like you did it then with your sexy tongue that tastes like a fucking tomato."
I gasp. "What?"
He chuckles. "You taste like a tomato from that fucking Bloody Mary. I hate those."
"You do not tell a girl you don't like the way she tastes after you kiss her, asshole."
"I didn't say I didn't like you. I said I didn't like the taste of tomatoes and Bloody Marys."
Shaking my head, I pick up my fork, scoop up a bite of mashed potatoes, and shove them in my mouth. He puts his chin between his fingers, and he's watching me, looking totally amused.
I am not going to kiss him. I'm not going to initiate it. I can't. But I'd be lying if I denied it's an invitation for him to show me how he's in control. Oh, Jules. What are you doing? His eyes search mine, the heat between us escalating to a near scorching level. I arch a brow as I chew. "I know you like the mashed potatoes. They're your most favorite thing in the world, right?" I ask as I swallow them down.
He grabs my face, putting it between both of his large palms. "That was before I tasted you. And even though you tasted like a fucking tomato from that Bloody Mary, you were still the best thing I've ever tasted, and I want more."
I suck in a breath as electrical zaps ping my core.
"But … I'm not kissing you. You told me never to do that again." His eyes wander down to my lips.
I can barely breathe. In fact, I don't think I am. I'm pretty sure I'm holding my breath. My hands come up and grasp his muscular arms.
"You slapped the shit out of me last time, Jules. I'm not a sucker for punishment. And you're on a roll at dishing it out tonight."
I can't help but be proud of that. "I'm not going to ask you or give you permission to kiss me."
"Then, it looks like we're at a standstill here. What do you suppose we do?"
Take a cold shower. That's what you should do. Or I should ask to leave. Or run. Or do anything but stay with Theo Kataigída. Leaning forward, I move us, bringing my lips mere millimeters from his. "I don't know. This is your meeting. You figure it out."
He inhales. His eyes become hooded before he briefly closes them, then opens them wide. "Why. Are. You. With. Him?"
"You want to talk about skatá whatever you call him when I'm this close to you?" I do what he did to me earlier. My hand falls to his knee, then lightly, I skim my way up. His breath hitches this time. Unlike me earlier, he doesn't do a damn thing to stop me. Fire. He's fire. And I need to find ice. Or something to extinguish this blaze. "What do you know about my fiancé? Why do you think he's so repulsive? You want me so much, give me a reason to betray him."
He grabs my hand and puts it back on my own thigh. "You've already betrayed him. Your mind and your body. Maybe not your soul yet. My hope is that it's not far behind the others."
He motions for the server. "Check, please, Troy."
Troy brings the check, but I don't even know why Theo asked for it because he tosses a hundred dollar bill in the folder, stands, and offers me his hand. "I don't have the information I need to open your account. It's getting late. Can you come by the office tomorrow?" Before I can finish my sentence he's already shaking his head. "I'll get your account set up then."
"No, agapemèni. That's not how it goes, remember? You're already about to fail the test, and it's not even truly started."
"Ah. The part where you stay anonymous?"
"That's right." His lips curve upward. "Why don't you run inside when I drop you off at your car, grab your computer." I arch my brow. "I'm assuming you have a laptop, right?"
I nod, taking his hand, grabbing my sweater and purse, and scooting out of the booth. He looks stupid just standing there like that. When our fingers connect, shocks rocket through my body. How can touching him make me feel so lightheaded and dizzy, yet nervous, like I have a swarm of bees buzzing in my stomach that all decided to sting me at the same time. Except this kind of sting isn't painful. It's so sweet and slow, like honey. "Right?"