doesn’t mean you can’t belong to me.”
Lord, his overbearingness should not turn me on, but there is no denying the way his words make me feel.
“And you have to know that if you belong to me, I’d belong to you as well.”
“Braxton.”
“You want me, Dakota. I know you do. You might be trying to push me away, but you don’t actually want me to go.”
He’s right, isn’t he? I could have done something when he broke in, but I didn’t, and I haven’t done much to make him leave. I like his company; I like the way he looks at me, and even when he’s annoying me, I like being around him. I know I shouldn’t, but that doesn’t change that I do.
“I need time.”
“How much time do you need?”
“I don’t know. Am I going to find out anything else about you that I don’t know?”
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
“See? That right there is what puts me on edge,” I say, pulling my legs under me on the couch. “Everything you say leaves lots of room for you to come back later and sideswipe me.”
“How’s that?” He looks genuinely confused.
“I asked if there is anything else I don’t know about you, and your answer is there’s a lot. Lots, like what? A wife, a kid… are you running for president or planning to take over the world?”
“No wife, no kids. If I did have a wife, I wouldn’t cheat on her. I don’t want to be president, and I have no desire to take over the world. You know the big stuff about me. I own IMG, this building, and I’m obsessed with a woman I tricked into going on a date with me.”
I stare at him, unsure what to say or how to respond. Part of me wants to give in and agree to see him, but I need time to figure out if he can be trusted. I still feel betrayed by him. He didn’t just lie; he kept things from me and did it with ease. And if he did it once, he could do it again, and if that happened, it would be my fault. Like the old saying goes—fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.
“I’ll give you time, Dakota, but you’re not going to figure out if you can trust me unless you actually give me a chance to prove to you that you can.”
“Can you read my mind?” I ask, honestly a little freaked he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“No, but I’m beginning to understand the thing holding you back isn’t that you don’t want to spend time with me; it’s that you don’t trust me.” He reaches out, touching my cheek. “Am I right?”
“Yeah.”
His expression softens. “How about we take things slow?”
“What exactly do you mean by that?” Knowing him, his version of slow and mine are probably completely different.
“We spend time together, but nothing more until you’re ready for that.”
“Are we talking about sex?” Well that will be a challenge, maybe not for him but for me. I’m not sure I have enough willpower to spend time with him and not want what I know he’s capable of making me feel.
“As much as it’s going to kill me to keep my hands off you, yeah, I mean sex.” His eyes darken, and I squirm as they travel over my face. “But…”
“Here we go.” I roll my eyes while smiling.
“But,” he repeats, capturing my chin between his thumb and index finger then growls, “if you tempt me and start playing with fire, all bets are off.”
My toes curl and my belly melts. “I’d never do that.”
“Liar.”
I am lying. Part of me wants to see how far I can push him before he cracks and just how hot it will be when he does.
“I also want you to join me for lunch with my parents this weekend.”
Wait… what? “What?” My voice sounds shrill, even to my own ears. “How did we go from talking about me pushing you to a point where you can’t control yourself to you telling me that you want me to meet your parents?”
Oh my God, here we go—right back on the crazy train.
“No way.”
“No way?” He frowns, and I shake my head franticly.
“I can’t meet your parents. I…. No way.”
“Why not?”
“Um, I don’t know. Maybe…” I hold up my hand and one finger. “Because you’re my boss.” I hold up another finger. “Because your parents.” I hold up the rest of