Chapter 38 Avalynne #2
Xade leads me through an alleyway and down the street until we reach an unassuming squatty building with a sign so faded I have no idea what it says. A delicious aroma of fried foods and melted butter wafts from it, and my stomach reminds me I skipped breakfast.
"Best restaurant in the state," Xade promises, opening the door for me. "Don't let the outside fool you."
We enter a world frozen to the time of speakeasies and secluded tables.
It's dim inside the restaurant, the booths that line the walls lit only by dome-shaped pendant lights hanging from the ceiling.
Peeling, coastal-themed wallpaper splits at the seams, and a haze of smoke and steam dusts the plaster ceiling.
Chatter sounds from the occupied tables as we pass a handwritten announcement stapled to the wall that reads, "Seat yourselves! " in thick, black marker.
My stomach rumbles again.
"This way," Xade says, leading us to a table at the back.
I sit down, scooting across the leather booth as a waitress with kind eyes and cat-eye glasses appears out of nowhere. The messy bun atop her head spills curls into her eyes as she chews on pink bubblegum. She slides a couple of menus in front of us.
"Y'all know what you want or need a minute?" she asks, blowing a bubble and popping it loudly.
I look down at the menu and flip through it, not reading the words.
The thing's got to be over a dozen pages long, and all of it is in tiny font with words crossed out, highlighted, and written over.
For the life of me, I can't imagine Xade waltzing in here, getting handed this, and deciphering a single thing.
"Two of the specials," he answers, "if that's okay with my date."
The waitress turns expectantly to me and smacks on her bubblegum.
"Fine by me," I agree. "Could I have a, um, water, please?"
Xade raises two fingers. "Make that two."
"Sure thing." The waitress jots down on her notepad quickly and grabs our menus from the table.
"What did we order?" I whisper conspiratorially as she leaves.
Xade laughs softly. "Lobster rolls and New England chowder." He abruptly goes still and pale. "You aren't allergic to shellfish, are you?"
I shake my head.
"Thank Christ," he murmurs with a sigh of relief.
The waitress quickly delivers our drinks. I reach for mine and take a long sip, overwhelmed by how weird this feels.
I'm on a date.
Not only that, but I'm on a date far away from the convent with my very hot professor, who turns me to mush with a single glance.
The man across the table from me looks like he belongs on the covers of romance novels, not in a hole-in-the-wall marina restaurant in the middle of nowhere with me.
Where he goes, people look, and I can't blame them.
I want to look at him all the time, but it's more than his good looks or the easy confidence in how he carries himself.
It's his wit, his bone-dry humor, and the way he catches me off-guard when he says something absolutely unhinged that no professor should ever say to a student.
Another waitress passes our table and clearly checks him out on the way to deliver drinks, but if he notices her gawking, he doesn't show it.
Instead, he purses his lips and peers over the table at me, the light of the overhead lamp casting gold into his hair and onto his splayed hands.
He reaches over, lifting out of his seat, and presses a finger to my temple.
"I wish I knew what was going on in here," he murmurs so low I barely hear the words.
"Same," I say, my mouth going dry.
He smirks as if something I've said is funny. Only I don't know what it is.
The waitress delivers two heaping baskets of lobster rolls, accompanied by steaming cups of chowder. The plates are simple, but the scent is hypnotic. Compared to the bland meals served at the convent, this is already amazing.
I pick up my lobster roll. Warm butter runs from it across my fingers and down onto the plate as I bring it close to my face and take a cautious bite. Flavors explode on my tongue.
Sugar. Butter. Salt. It's perfect.
I close my eyes and moan in bliss.
I feel Xade's eyes on me from across the table, but I can't help myself. This is so much better than anything I've eaten in months. I have died, and this food is Heaven.
"Well, now, I have to know what you're thinking," he drawls as I take another bite, tipping my head back as delicious warmth explodes in my middle.
I nearly moan again as an ancient woman with a tall nest of hair and gold rings on every finger passes our table.
"Better than knocking boots on the beach, right?" she says with a toothy grin and an elbow to my shoulder before she vanishes into the crowd, her laughter disappearing with her.
What did she just say?
Oh.
Ohhhhh no.
Horrified, my gaze snaps from the table and lands in the seat across from mine. My professor has gone still, his own food forgotten between his long fingers. His dark gaze pins me to the leather booth, sending a thrill charging up my spine.
"Oh, Clarissima Stella," he tsks, the corner of his mouth tipping with a smirk. "I can assure you I am better. And, one day soon, when you are mine, you'll sit on my desk and spread your sweet legs like the good girl you are, and I'll prove it."
Holy fucking shit.
I ache.
Eyes still on me, he takes his frustration out on his own sandwich with a quick, vicious bite.
Heat flares in my cheeks, and my gravity shifts. I realize if he tried to kiss me right now in this restaurant on top of this table, I'd let him. Hell, I'd let him do a lot more than that.
I take his cue and focus on my food, trying my best to think of anything other than him.
He seems content to take whatever he's feeling out on his own food, too, and we devour our plates in silence.
Every bite is amazing, and by the time the waitress arrives to collect our dishes, I'm happy and stuffed.
"Dessert?" she asks us.
Xade looks to me.
"No, thank you." I shake my head. "It was terrific."
Xade stands, tossing bills onto the table before he offers me his hand. "As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, little troublemaker, we really should go shopping."
Outside the restaurant, the snow has picked up, painting the sidewalks in white. We walk along Main Street, passing a bakery that smells of sugar and cinnamon, an antique store, and a coffee shop before we find a clothes boutique.
"Are you sure about this?" I ask as we enter the store. Xade may say his gifts mean nothing, but they always meant something with my grandfather. His hands fall on either side of my waist, steering me through the door. He's barely touching me, yet I am on fire everywhere.
"Think of the clothes as a favor," he murmurs against my hair, just over my ear.
A favor.
The word makes me hesitate. Favors are reciprocal. They always come with a price.
"And what do you expect from me in return?" I ask as a store associate waves to us from behind the counter.
Xade grabs my shoulders and steers me around to face him.
"No, Avalynne." He shakes his head, his brow furrowed. "You misunderstand. You'd be doing me a favor, not the other way around."
I blink at him, and he gives me a moment to figure it out. I don't.
"Clarissima Stella," he leans closer, letting his hot words feather my face as his hands remain on my shoulders, "if you want God to strike me down, then, by all means, keep wearing that habit. Otherwise, show a weak man pity and stop giving me a theological fetish."
My lungs stop working.
"Agreed?" His gaze dips to my lips and scrolls back up.
It's all I can do to nod.
I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone as we peruse the store.
I pick out things, and Xade takes them to the fitting rooms. I've amassed a small hill of clothes before I duck behind one of the fitting room curtains and start trying things on.
I make quick work of the pile until, feeling bold, I try on tight jeans I have to wriggle into and a low V-neck top with straps that crisscross beneath my breasts, pushing them up and making them look fantastic.
I walk out of the room to find Xade seated on the bench, staring down at his clasped hands.
He looks up from his hands at me, and I wonder if he can see how the store associate is watching him, undressing him from behind the counter.
Another customer stares at him, too, yet his gaze is locked on me.
It is … intoxicating.
He steals the word from my mouth. "Beautiful," he says.
"I don't know," I tease, looking over my shoulder before spinning around. "If you insist …"
"Oh," he says, his jaw punching out with the clench of his teeth, "I do."
I return to the dressing room, and before we're done, I have a stack of clothes and we've added winter boots, a pair of running shoes, and black flats that dazzle when the light hits them just right.
I try to put the shoes and at least half of the clothes back, but Xade sends everything to the counter despite my protests.
The associate begins to ring everything up when I spot a display of undergarments near the front counter. I figure this may be my only chance to have normal, this-century undergarments, and I snatch my size from the display and hand them to the associate.
"… damned death of me …" Xade mutters, fixing his gaze on the wall behind the counter.
Or, at least, I think that's what he says because the words are so low I barely hear them.
The associate rings everything up and places it neatly in black paper bags. Xade pays, and we thank her as he grabs the bags.
"Thank you," I tell him as we leave the store.
He gives me a sidelong glance.
"What did I tell you?" He sighs, and I'm sure if he had a free hand, he'd be pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're doing me a favor, so … no, thank you."
We continue down the main street past storefronts and peeking through windows until, finally, we veer toward the pier.
Although the storm isn't here yet, the wind has already picked up, whipping saltwater mist and snowflakes through the air.
As we cross the boardwalk, my chest tightens with a strange mixture of excitement and fear.
We walk to the far edge, where the planks meet a sun-bleached wooden railing.
I look out at the ocean. White-capped waves extend as far as I can see.
I wrap my arms around myself to ward off the cold.
"I can't swim," I admit to Xade.
He raises an eyebrow, dropping the bags to the pier and looking out at the ocean beside me.
"Really?" he sounds surprised. I suppose he should.
I shake my head. "I never learned. Was always too afraid of the water, I guess."
His gaze leaves the rolling waves and lands on me. "I'll teach you if you'd like."
My stomach tightens at the idea of him teaching me something so personal, of trusting him to not let me drown.
I don't reply as the wind catches my hair and tugs it behind me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Xade watching me, and I think about the restaurant and his naughty words.
He shifts like he's about to step closer, and for a heartbeat, I want him to, but he looks out at the ocean again.
"We should head back," he says. "The roads will freeze when the storm arrives."
I nod, my gaze flicking down to the weathered wood underfoot.
"Xade," I murmur.
"Yes, Avalynne."
"Thank you for this."
There's a beat of silence.
"Well, don't think I'm going to give you an easy A just because I'm wildly obsessed with you," he quips dryly.
My attention snaps to him. "What?"
"I know you heard me." His gaze lazily rolls to mine before it dips to my lips and then rises again. He curses under his breath, a war raging behind his eyes before he brushes my hair away from my shoulder. I lean into the calloused touch of his fingers.
"I want to kiss you," he admits.
"Why don't you?" My brain is foggy. One touch, and I'm already drunk on him.
He pulls me into him, my forehead meeting the wall of his chest. He feels so good, warm and solid, and I never want to leave his arms. One of his hands wraps around me as his other threads through my hair, holding me. My eyes shut, and I memorize the moment.
"I want more than your kisses, Avalynne," he confesses into my hair.
"I want your forgiveness, your warmth, your compassion—your everything.
I want all that you are and all you will become, and if I can't have that now, then I'll wait.
Having your body will never be enough, not when I could have had every part of you instead. "
I suck in a breath before, quickly, he presses a kiss to my forehead and releases me. A heartbeat later, he reaches down, grabs the bags, and starts back to the car.