Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk #3) - Samantha Young Page 0,3
good laughing. His laughter was deep and rumbly, and I felt that between my legs too.
Dear God.
“You make it sexy, and I think these people knew exactly what they were doing when they hired you.”
I flushed at the compliment. “Whatever. It pays ludicrously well, and I’m an art student. I need the money.”
“I’m not judging. Gotta say, though, if you were mine, I wouldn’t be happy you were doing this.”
Great, another Neanderthal like Gary. It was like they grew them on trees here. “Listen, Macho Man, no one tells me what to do.”
“Oh, I got that sense when you flipped me off, dahlin’.”
Ignoring the tingles his endearment elicited, I cocked my head in thought. “So, if you’re a cop, you’ll know that being a perv is frowned upon, right?”
He chuckled. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. And yes, that is true. But I’m not a perv. I promise.”
“All evidence to the contrary.”
“Fuck, if I’d known you were this smart, I wouldn’t have sat down,” he teased.
“You’re welcome to leave,” I replied, though inwardly I thought, “Please don’t.”
“The seat is comfortable, and I’m finding your smart mouth extremely appealing right now.” His dark eyes grew hooded as it fell to my lips.
My heart raced as this invisible rope seemed to lasso around us both, drawing us closer and closer. I didn’t understand it. Every nerve ending tingled with life, my skin was hot, and my whole being was lit with awareness.
“I have a boyfriend,” I blurted out.
Michael’s disappointment was obvious. We looked at each other for a few seconds, and then he asked, “Serious?”
I shrugged. “We haven’t been dating long, but it’s good.”
“How long is not long?”
“Two months.”
His lips twitched. “That’s not long at all.”
I tried not to smile and failed. “You’d go after another guy’s girl?”
“Never have before, but you’re the exception to the rule.”
“I am?” My heart was bursting.
Michael nodded. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel this?”
Biting my lip, I nodded slowly.
Something hungry flickered in his expression.
Wow.
I shook my head, as if to shake off the indescribable urge to jump him. This was insane. “I wouldn’t cheat. Not ever.”
“Neither would I,” he promised. “Sit with me a while.”
I wondered if that was a good idea.
“What are you thinking?”
“How much I shouldn’t have liked that you were disappointed that I have a boyfriend.”
“Speaking of, does he know you’re working here?”
“No. And he doesn’t need to. It’s a temporary gig that pays a lot an hour, and it isn’t causing anyone any harm.”
“I beg to differ.”
“How?”
“It’s causing your boyfriend harm. If you hadn’t been working here, I wouldn’t have seen you, decided you’re the most gorgeous fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen, and then sat my ass down to talk to you. Now I find out that not only are you gorgeous but you’re smart and you’re funny—which I already knew when you flipped me off—which means I’m not leaving until we exchange numbers. And I do this knowing if you feel half as attracted to me as I do to you, you’ll put your not-so-serious boyfriend aside to call me and give me a shot. So yeah, I’d say this job caused your boyfriend some harm.”
I gaped at him. “You’re very cocky.”
“No, but I am determined.”
“My boyfriend is good in bed.” I was exasperated by this sudden feeling of being torn in two. “That’s difficult to find.”
Michael smiled at my bluntness. “Dahlin’, you’ve haven’t seen anything yet. You’re what, in your early twenties?”
I nodded. “Twenty. So?”
“So maybe you’re mistaking okay sex for good sex.” He leaned forward, so our noses were almost touching, and my breath caught in my throat as the spicy, dark scent he wore tickled my senses. “If I were lucky enough to have you in my bed, I’d make you feel things you never knew existed. If you were mine, you wouldn’t flirt with other guys. You wouldn’t want to, knowing no other guy would appreciate you the way I would. Trust me, dahlin’, I appreciate the good things in life, and I’m more grateful than I can say when I come across special. Just never thought I’d come across goddamn extraordinary in my life, let alone find it in an art gallery.”
Oh. My. God.
“What are you doing to me?” I snapped, sitting back in my chair to get some distance. “I’m Irish, okay. I grew up surrounded by Irish guys who know how to charm the panties off a girl. You, mister, you’re like the freaking champion. And don’t tell me you’re not Irish.