"Good." He reaches across the white tablecloth and takes my hand. His eyes drop to my cleavage, holding there, sweeping over my skin in a possessive way. "You're mine, Duch. I don’t have to look away.”
"I know."
"Just making sureSebastianknows."
"Sebastianhas gone to the kitchen."
"Fine. I’ll eye-fuck you again when he gets back." He squeezes my hand. "I can stop being mature, and if he looks at your tits again in front of me, I'llwillblind him."
I touch his cutlery beside mine. "With what?"
"Pepper,” he says without looking at the pepper shaker, seemingly already planned for this moment the second I took away his knife and fork.
Konnor Slater.
You gorgeous psycho.
“Fucking psycho,” I murmur.
He grins, wide and cheeky, melting me with those two dimples.As ifany girl would want another man when this one is obsessed with them.
While we eat, we talk.
I try to keep the topics on Elise, on Jax's ongoing and unconvincing campaign to pretend he isn’t into her, a book I'm reading, a song I've been working on, and?—
My leg bounces under the table. “So… I spoke to my dad again.” I set my fork down. Konnor knows I spoke to Dad a few days ago and it didn’t go well. Dad couldn’t speak, couldn’t find words. My eyes sweep the lovely restaurant, then settle back on Konnor. “He calledme.We spoke for an hour.”
Konnor props his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together at his chin. “And?”
“And he said he was sorry.”
“Sorry like… That it happened or that he can’t choose you or… What kind of sorry? There are a lot ofsorrys.”
“Sorry like… He blames himself.”
“Fuck.”Konnor frowns at his empty plate. “Should we add visit your dad to the fucked-up bucket list?”
“Hm…” I nod. “Yeah, I think so.”
Konnor smiles at me, then his eyes slice across the air to something standing behind me, in the distance. When I twist, following his gaze, Sebastian is talking to another man at the bar who casts me long glances.
The maturity leaves the table. Konnor rises to his feet and circles me, pulling my chair out without a word, his presence rippling with possessiveness.
I stand. “What are you doing?”
Taking hold of my hand, he walks me towards the restrooms, forcing me to skip to keep up with him.
“Claiming what’s mine.” He pushes open the door to the restroom. There is only one—large, tiled, clean, fancy, with a woodenvanity that Konnor is already lifting me onto. “I need your taste on my lips, or I’ll order a bourbon.”
I gasp as he drops to his knees and pushes my dress up to my waist in a frenzy.
I try to keep up. “That’s—” My knickers come down to my ankles. “Black—” His lips find my pussy. “Mail.” I moan, long and hard, spreading my legs for him, feeding my fingers through his spiky hair, holding on tight as he licks me in a way that isn’t about me at all, but a wild desire to claim.
Eyes losing focus to his wicked tongue, I gaze at the bathroom door. Check the lock. My heart races that someone will knock. Kick us out. That we will have to do a walk of shame through the restaurant, me blushing, Konnor smirking with my pussy juices on his lips.
He throws one of my legs over his shoulder and slides two fingers inside me, while his tongue goes wild. The fingers, they are for me. The tongue, for Sebastian. I let my eyes fall shut, feeling his desire for me. His lust. Not a secret. Not hidden. So obvious and carnal. He is groaning and growlingthroughme, fingers curling and moving and knowing and?—
Precise.