Shameless - Sybil Bartel Page 0,7

and his hand went to his waist. “Make a decision.”

Wow, that shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was.

Getting clean had either made me completely lose my mind or I was starved for attention, or maybe it was the rich scent of aftershave that suddenly enveloped me, but I really wanted to eat a meal with him in the stupid restaurant. I didn’t even care if I had to ask nicely. My skin was tingling from where he’d touched me, and I wanted more.

So I asked.

Nicely.

“Please?”

His other hand went to his hip, and he stared at me.

For a long moment, his dark eyes took me in, and I felt it all the way from the hair on the back of my neck to my toes.

I didn’t know what the hell kind of spell this man had me under, but in that moment, I would’ve done anything he told me to. And maybe it was as simple as the fact that he was a man. All man. A complete asshole, but also a strong, no bullshit, dominating, no brain-to-mouth filter man.

I didn’t know anyone like him.

My whole life I’d been cursed by my last name. Everyone I’d ever met wanted something from me, or they wanted something from my father, and I was just leverage.

Except Shade the Bodyguard didn’t seem to give a single damn what my last name was.

Exhaling, he let his gaze drift down my body, taking in every inch like he was touching me, then he looked back at my eyes and shook his head.

“Remember this moment,” he ordered.

“Oh-kay.” I kinda hated how good he looked in his leather jacket. And I wondered if the stubble across his face was purposeful or because he hadn’t had time to shave before driving up from Miami. I also wondered who the hell Cara was, but carefully trying to shove that whole part of our conversation down, I compartmentalized. Because I didn’t want to know about Cara and the ass pounding she got from him. “Why?”

“Because when it all goes to shit, this was the turning point.” His hand landed on the small of my back. “Come on, princess.”

Awareness shot up my spine and down my body, then went straight to my core. “Sit down?”

“Yeah,” he acquiesced begrudgingly.

I smiled. Wide.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, leading me to the front door and pulling it open for me. “I’m gonna regret the hell out of this.”

SHE ORDERED HALF THE FUCKING menu, and she didn’t shut up.

The woman was driving me to drink, but I couldn’t even order a beer, because, despite appearances, I wasn’t a complete dick.

“Are you sure you don’t want some?” She held a piece of raw fish out with her chopsticks. “It’s sooo good.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “For the fifth time, no.”

I wasn’t eating that shit, and I sure as fuck wasn’t shoving two goddamn sticks in my mouth. I’d paid my dues downrange eating cold MREs in dirt and sand hellholes with plastic fucking sporks while enemy fire rained down overhead.

I didn’t live through that shit to eat with a goddamn piece of bamboo or whatever the fuck the chopsticks were made out of.

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.” She popped the raw shit into her mouth.

“You haven’t seen me be a dick.”

Snorting around her bite, she picked up her napkin and patted it against her lips like she was a fucking queen. Shaking her head, she let out a half laugh. “Pretty sure ordering some woman to tell her husband you fucked her in his bed is the very definition of being a dick.”

Half my mouth tipped up. “I was inspired.”

“Jeez, by what? Psycho pussy?” Her face flushed, but she pulled off the jab with a solid dose of attitude.

I smirked. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Her eyebrows drew together, and she dropped her gaze. “You make a habit of that?”

“Of what?” I ate the last of my steak. It was decent, but not like home cooking.

She looked up. “Dating crazy women.”

“Who said I dated her?” Grabbing my water, I winked.

She shook her head. “You’re a piece of work.”

“And you’re surprising, for a fucking teenager.” Which I needed to keep reminding myself of. Despite the size of her rack and her ability to spar like a woman, she was still young as hell and not fuck material. Catching the eye of the waiter, I signaled for the check.

Looking affronted, she sat back and crossed her arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The waiter came over. “Can I

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