Protect Me (Rivers Edge Book 4)(15)

       
           



       

"Yes," she says confidently with a slight smile, exhaling loudly.

Taking her hand within mine, I lead her out the front door. I continue  to hold her hand like it's a lifeline as we hit the last step and walk  to my awaiting car. There's a very light, warm breeze tonight which  causes her long hair to feather out around her face. I grip her hand  tightly as we descend the last step and walk to my awaiting car. Her  hand feels so damn right tucked securely within mine. Complete.

I can't help but steal one more touch as I open the car door for her. I  have a need for her that I can't explain. I turn her so that she's  facing me, my warm palm caressing her back. She smells like heaven, all  sugary with a hint of wildflowers. The long planes of her neck beg for  my touch. I slide my free hand up her neck, committing the slope and the  silkiness to memory. God, I love touching this woman.

"Your neck drives me wild," I say huskily.

"I've never had someone tell me they like my neck before," she says with a hint of a smile.

"It does seem a little strange, right? I have no clue what is so damn  sexy about your neck, but I just want to touch it," I tell her as I lay a  hand along the column of her neck. "Caress it," I say as I slide my  calloused hand up and down from collarbone to earlobe. "Lick it," I say  mere seconds before I trace the same path with my tongue that my hand  just traveled.

The taste of her skin is like lightning. A tornado touches down within  my stomach. The storm rages in my veins. Lia shudders uncontrollably in  my hands, and I know in this moment, one touch will never be enough. I  need more. I need Lia like I need my next breath. Because without her, I  might die. The revelation is both startling and exhilarating.

"We should probably go get dinner," I say as my lips continue to kiss and suckle along her neck.

"What?" she says hazily.

"Dinner. We should go eat."

"Oh, yeah. Dinner. We should do that."

I move my head to look deep into her lust filled eyes. Damn, does this  woman make me feel things I shouldn't want to feel. Desire for her  courses through my tightly wound body as I help Lia down into the seat. I  glance down at her perfect little body one more time while she sits in  my car, before shutting the door. Her eyes are flames of desire, and I'm  sure they're a reflection of my own.

I slowly walk around to the driver's side of the car, counting backwards  from twenty as I try to get my raging hard-on under control. I slide  down in the seat and steal another glance at my passenger. She gives me a  small, shy smile. Fuck counting. I want to throw her over my shoulder,  carry her back up the stairs, and ravish her beautiful body from head to  toe. All. Night. Long.

I shake my head and turn the ignition. Backing out of the parking lot, I  chance one last glance at Lia. She's looking out the passenger window,  hair gently blowing in the breeze. She looks peaceful. It's the only  look I ever want to see on her face again. It's my new goal in life. To  make Lia happy.

El Toro isn't very busy for a Monday night. There are two other couples  enjoying dinner while the speakers pump upbeat Spanish music through  them and the television over the bar airs a soccer game. The walls are  all painted bold shades of red, green, and blue. The Mexican flag is  painted on the back wall, and hot pepper lights are strung around the  perimeter. It's festive and fun, and they make a damn good margarita.  I'm usually a beer man, myself, but when you're here, you can't help but  get a margarita.

"Can I get you a drink?" our waiter asks as he sets the menus in front of us.

"Their margaritas are to die for," I tell her.

"Oh, I'll have the peach mango margarita, please," Lia says with a smile.

"Lime on the rocks for me," I tell the waiter who hurries off to get our drinks.

Lia folds up the menu and glances around the room. "This place is great," she says with a smile.

"Wait until you try the food," I reply.

"Do you know what you would like to order?" the waiter asks after he returns with our margaritas.

"Chicken Chimichanga with extra guacamole, please."

"I'll have the steak and chicken burrito and a side of rice," I tell him.

"Very good. It'll be out soon," he says as he takes our menus and disappears into the kitchen.

"So, tell me about college. What did you study?" I ask as I reach across the table and link her fingers within mine.

"Oh, I actually went for interior design," she says as she shifts in her  seat. I notice that anytime I ask about her past, she clams up. It  bothers me.                       
       
           



       

"So, you went for interior design and worked in a bakery. Which did you like better?"

"Believe it or not, the bakery was more my style. There are tons of  design companies down in Florida that cater to the wealthy vacationers  and the retired, but I just never really felt like I fit in with them. I  felt more at home in the kitchen than in the design studio."

"What made you leave the kitchen?" I ask, anxious to hear her answers.  Anxious to get to know her deeper. Praying that she'll let me in.

"I was in a relationship and he didn't want me to work," she mumbles quietly.

My gut tightens at the thought of someone else holding Lia, touching  Lia. But more importantly, I hate the way she says he didn't want her to  work. Like she's not a woman capable of making her own decisions.

Rage - and a little jealousy - churns in my stomach like sour milk. I  don't know this guy, but I already hate him. "Doesn't seem right, him  not letting you work," I say as casually as possible, though I'm pretty  sure I failed.

"Yeah, well, when you're rich and connected, you get used to everyone  catering to you. Garrett was … " she looks over my shoulder as she  desperately tries to come up with the right terminology. "Garrett was  difficult," she whispers as she stares off into the distance. Her eyes  instantly change from the bright, blue-gray color that they normally  are. Now, they appear darker, distant. And what hurts the most is that  they are laced with fear and uncertainty.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up," I tell her, desperately in  need of a conversation redirect. "How was dinner last night? Did my  family behave?"

"Dinner was great," Lia says, the light slowly returning to her eyes. "You have an amazing family, Nate."

"Yeah, they're pretty cool. My niece and nephews are the fucking shit. I  love spending time with them, getting them all sugared up, and then  sending them back home to their parents," I tell her with an ornery  grin.

"Well, they are definitely cool. I watched your niece shovel her peas  from her plate onto Travis's plate without anyone realizing it," Lia  tells me.

I laugh hard at the image she just painted. My niece, Brooklyn, is  definitely ornery, and I can see her getting away with much more than  piling peas on someone else's plate in the future.

Our waiter delivers piping hot platters of delicious food. My mouth is  watering and my stomach is all but growling as I grab my fork. I haven't  eaten since I got home from work this morning. I'm starving.

Lia dives in with gusto, slathering her chimi with every ounce of  guacamole on her plate. She takes a bite and her eyes close. A small  smile crosses her content face as she savors the food in her mouth.

"Oh my god, you have to try this," she says and pushes her plate towards me.

I cut off a small piece with my fork and shovel it in my mouth. The  chicken is prepared to perfection and the cheese sauce has just enough  spice to keep you coming back for more. And the guacamole … damn.

"That's good," I say as soon as I swallow. "Want a bite of mine?" I ask as I push my plate towards her.

Lia uses her fork to cut off a piece of my steak and chicken burrito.  Just as she is about to lift her fork towards her mouth, she swipes it  through my cup of sour cream. "There, now it's perfect," she says as she  takes the bite.

I watch her chew, mesmerized by the movement of her jaw. I watch her  delicious throat swallow the bite and I long to lick that damn neck  again. Who knew eating dinner could be so fucking erotic.

"So, I have something I want to ask you," I say in between bites of my  burrito. "The twenty-fourth is my brother Jake's wedding. I was kinda  hoping that maybe you'd want to go with me," I ask, praying that she  can't tell that my nerves have my throat dry and my stomach a little  loopy. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me?

"Um," she starts but doesn't really say anything. I can tell her mind is  working a mile a minute and her nervous jitters have returned.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," I say, trying to soften the blow that is coming my way.