“Like Mace and Luke aren’t their own kind of crazy,” I said.
His eyes flashed.
Yikes. Again, not good. I’d definitely said the wrong thing.
“Mace and Luke know their shit, understand their limits and play to their strengths. They do what they do because they’re good at it. They could teach you a few things.”
I was sure they could. Still.
I looked away, picked up my menu and started to read it like it was the most fascinating novel ever written, nonverbally making the point that our discussion was over.
Vance pulled the menu out of my hands and tossed it on the table, nonverbally making the point that our discussion was not over.
“I was reading that,” I protested.
“In a minute.”
“Now. The sooner we order, the sooner this date is over, the sooner we’re over.”
At my words I watched, fascinated in a kind of passing-a-car-accident way as he leaned in and his eyes went hard. If I thought I’d made him angry earlier with my (admittedly stupid) comment about his friends, I’d thoroughly made him angry now.
“We’re not over because of an idiotic fight.”
“We haven’t even begun, Crowe, and this isn’t an idiotic fight. You’re trying to tell me what to do.”
“I’m tryin’ to help you.”
“Then maybe you can find a better way to communicate that than saying nasty things about my friends.”
“I haven’t said anything that isn’t the truth.”
“They aren’t using me.”
“Jules, they are.”
“Then they are, but still, they like me,” I said and I said it in a way that made it sound like I desperately needed to believe it and if it was anatomically possible I would have kicked myself.
His chin dipped, his head went back in a slow jerk and he stared at me a beat. Then something happened to his face, the anger just disappeared. Vanished. Gone. In its place was something else, something softer, something I couldn’t read.
“Jules,” he said quietly.
I grabbed my menu, entirely unable to deal with the something else in his face.
“Let’s just order,” I snapped, opened it and studied it.
After the waiter had taken our orders, I sipped my cosmo and stared at the tablecloth of the booth across from us. Vance allowed this for a few seconds then his arm came from the back of the booth, wrapped around me and his hand cupped my shoulder. He curled me to face him and (again) got in my space.
“Excuse me,” I said, all haughty.
“We have begun,” he said, his eyes staring into mine.
“No,” I stated.
“I don’t know what shit you’re workin’ through but I know it’s there. I know you’d rather not even acknowledge it and definitely don’t want me to be a part of the process. I don’t care. Princess, this is happening between you and me.”
“What, exactly, do you mean by ‘this’? You f**king me?” I snapped, being nasty. It wasn’t me and I didn’t like it but I couldn’t stop myself either.
“Yeah. Me f**king you. In your bed, on your couch, in my bed and anywhere else I can think of. I’m gonna do you on your back, on your knees and you’re gonna ride me. And when I’ve exhausted you and you don’t have those f**king shields up, I’m gonna make you talk to me and tell me what this shit is about and then, maybe, I can help you with it.”