Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
CRESSIDA
Case Notes
He likes to throw words out at me to throw me off. Game on!
Why does this man bring out the worst in me? I literally put my tits on a table at a five-star restaurant. I did it to annoy him, not to impress him.
What the actual fuck is wrong with me?
And then he has the audacity to order food for me as if I’m some woman who doesn’t know what she likes or wants.
I know what I like, and I’m pretty good at doing and getting what I want.
So, I don’t argue because I need him to answer my damn questions.
If I can sneak in some questions in between now and when he actually lets me interview him, I’ll do it.
I take Soren for the type of man who is happy living the life he leads.
A woman would merely complicate things for him.
And a man like him would never, ever fall for a woman like me.
I would be a potential headache for him.
I wouldn’t let him walk over me, because I’m sure he’s used to being in charge in all aspects of his life, including in the bedroom.
And then there’s the fact that I have a child.
I can imagine that he stays clear of women with children.
So, I know this situation and the tension growing between us is nothing for me to worry about. Yes, he likes to toy with me, but we won’t go further than that because of who I am.
The waiter brings the food out, and I’m pretty impressed by the looks of it. There are plates of meat, vegetables, and salad. I don’t wait for Soren. I scoop what I want onto my plate and begin to eat.
After a few bites, I look up to find him staring at me over the rim of his wine glass.
“Do you intend to eat?” I ask.
“I’m quite enjoying watching you.” He tips the glass in my direction.
“What about kids? Ever dreamed of having any?” I ask as I spear a piece of steak with my fork and then put it into my mouth. I moan at the taste of it and shut my eyes. It’s fucking delicious.
“Do you make the same sound with a cock in your mouth?” He throws the question out there so casually, like it’s something he asks everyone, and my eyes shoot open.
I cough and start choking on my piece of meat. Pounding my chest, I cover my mouth with my hand before I manage to breathe again.
“What the actual fuck?” I reach for my glass and take a sip of wine. Then I proceed to drink it all before I place the empty glass back on the table, where he immediately fills it back up.
“It was a legitimate question,” he replies.
“What I do with a cock in my mouth is none of your business,” I tell him with a great big grin.
“If you say so.” He takes his own piece of steak and puts it to his lips. I watch as he opens his mouth, slips the piece of steak inside, and then closes his lips, all the while keeping his gaze trained on me.
“Do you think that tastes better than pussy?” I ask, trying to shock him with a similar question to the one he asked me.
But he just finishes chewing, licks his lips, then says, “Nothing tastes better than pussy.”
“You eat a lot of pussy?”
“Is this for your interview? Should we delve deeper into whose cunt tasted the best?” My cheeks go red. “No? I didn’t think so.”
I take a sip of wine, and he orders, “Eat” while waving a hand at the food.
“You’re very demanding. Do you tell every woman you take out to dinner to ‘eat’?”
“No, just the ones whose stomachs growl at me.”
Fair enough.
I fork up another piece of steak, holding back the moan this time when I place it into my mouth, even though it’s incredible, and I keep my eyes locked on his.
“Do you think when you suck cock, you can keep that same eye contact?”
Okay, what the fuck?
I stop chewing and stare at him wide-eyed. Did he really just say that? Yes, I think he did. And he has no issues about it either. A part of me enjoys the way he talks, even if I know he does it to rile me up. Noah never talked dirty to me.
“Do I need to leave?” I ask.
“Is that what you want to do?”
Ohhh, I get it now. Soren’s trying to provoke me into leaving by saying these things to me, hoping I won’t chase him for the interview any longer. But that’s not going to work. I see his game now, and I’m going to play right into it like I was before I realized what he was doing.
Without saying another word, I continue to eat the steak, and he sits there, staring at me with a smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth as he sips his wine.
We manage to drink the bottle of wine between us, though I’m sure I have an extra glass more than he does, and by the time the food is gone, we sit, staring at each other.
“Tell me about your family.”
“It’s probably best you leave now, don’t you think?” he replies, standing. “Let me take you home.”
“Is that a sore spot?” I ask. “I was going to interview your sister too, to see what else I can find out.” His hand tightens where it’s wrapped around the back of his chair.
“Probably best you don’t.” His response comes out cold as he waits for me to stand.
I get to my feet and push my chair in.
The wine has hit my head, and I smile up at him. “I’ve already reached out to her via email. Do you think she’ll reply?”
He clenches his teeth as he strides quickly toward the exit. My heels click on the tiled floor as I move a little faster to catch up with him. He’s silent as we get into the car, and he remains that way on the drive back to my home.
I don’t bother trying to break the silence. To be honest, I’m done for the day, and all I want is to go to sleep. Possibly play with my vibrator before I pass out.
I don’t bother thanking him for dinner as we stop at the curb in front of my home, even though my mother would chew me out for the blatant disregard of manners.
I climb out and slam the door shut behind me.
I dig into my purse for my keys, then unlock my front door.
Just as I step inside and turn around to see if Soren’s left, I come face-to-face with him.
His nostrils flare, his eyes dark and dangerous, glaring straight at me.
He’s close, too close, and his gray eyes hint at some internal battle he’s fighting.
He steps even closer, and I’m frozen in place, unsure about what’s happening right now.
He’s clearly trying to intimidate me, but little does he know, I am not intimidated easily, so I straighten my back and glare straight back at him, which makes something in his gaze shift at my defiance.
Somehow, the distance between us is nonexistent, and I can’t help it when my gaze strays to his lips.
It should be a crime for a man to look this good.
Fuck.
The air is so thick between us that I completely understand the saying, “You could cut the tension with a knife.”
When I manage to look away from his lips, I see that he’s staring at mine. I should back away and put some much-needed distance between us, but I’m glued to the spot and can’t move. We’re both breathing heavily, and just when I think I’ve gathered enough courage to step away finally, he leans down.
And then his mouth is on mine.
I expect him to pull back quickly, thinking it was clearly a mistake. Instead, his lips are soft and tender as they press against mine. Neither of us moves at first, and then, ever so slowly, he opens his mouth. And before I know it, I’m doing the same thing, and our tongues meet.
He’s kissing me.
And I’m kissing him back.
The man I despise.
The one I’m trying to write a story about.
The man who is standing at my front door and stealing my breath with his kiss.
Other than our lips, we don’t touch each other. I’m actually afraid of what would happen if we did. I’m pretty sure I would drag him inside right now. He seems to be aware of that fact, and we wordlessly agree to keep our hands to ourselves and leave the touching to our lips.
There’s a small voice in my head screaming at me to stop.
Telling me this isn’t right, that I shouldn’t be kissing this man.
Telling me I should back away and forget this ever happened, or blame it on the wine.
But I can’t seem to do that. My tongue doesn’t get the memo that my head is saying this is wrong.
Instead, it keeps tasting him. And he keeps kissing me.
That is, until he suddenly pulls back, seeming to realize the enormity of what just happened. And before I can say a word, he’s striding back to his car and climbing inside, not even glancing back once.
And then…
He’s gone.
Taking a deep breath, I stand there, staring aimlessly at where his car was parked.
What just happened?
Do I need to stop the story now that I’m too involved?
Maybe it was the wine, and tomorrow we can pretend like nothing ever happened.
Surely that’s the smartest way to move forward.
Nodding once, I step inside and shut the door. I lift my fingers to my kiss-swollen lips, where the taste of him still lingers.