Torrid Little Affair (Forbidden Desires #3)

Cooper

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” Corinne murmured as the white-coated waiter stepped away after pushing in her chair. “When you said you wanted to feed me because I stayed at work late, I thought you meant . . . you know, pizza or something. This is a little much for an hour of overtime.”

As she eyed me speculatively, I kept my poker face firmly in place.

“I was craving an amazing steak,” I said with a shrug as I turned my attention to the wine list. But that was just a cover. After the progress we’d made over the weekend at the charity event, I wasn’t about to send myself sliding back down the slippery slope of rejection by pushing too hard.

That said? The idea of a night without her sucked the big one. For a guy who had been sure he’d been in love before, what I felt for Corinne was so much more . . . so all-consuming, I had to wonder now. After a little time away, I’d managed to get a grip on hanging out with my brother Gavin and Emma pretty easily.

But as I read casually through the wine list, my knuckles turned white at the thought of seeing Corinne with another guy.

Never going to happen. If she decided she didn’t want me anymore, I’d have to open another branch of the company. Only this time, it would be in Italy. Or maybe Australia. I’d need the distance, because this woman had my heart like no other ever had before.

“I was going to have something light, but now that I see the butter-poached lobster with pea puree, I’m tempted,” she murmured, letting out a little groan of pleasure at the thought.

That made my blood race south again as I recalled her making that same sound before, but with much less clothing on.

“Lobster it is,” I announced, setting down the menu. “And I think I feel like something bubbly. I’ll have the waiter select a champagne for us to go with our appetizers.”

As if I’d summoned him with my words, our waiter strolled up, looking sharp in a crisp black jacket, his shoes shined to a high polish. After I ordered, he offered us a warm smile. “Are we celebrating something special, sir?”

I shook my head and grinned. “Just the company of this beautiful woman.”

As he scurried away, I realized with a start that this was a celebration of sorts, even if Corinne didn’t realize it. We’d made huge strides in our relationship. I was starting to feel like she was actually opening up to me, and it only fed my hunger to know more about her. Share more of myself.

“So, I was thinking the other night about how alike our childhoods were in some ways, and then about the adults we grew up to be,” I said, pausing to catch her eye in the candlelight. Damn, was she gorgeous. “I would never wish any of that stuff on a kid, but I wonder who we would be if things had been different.”

A busboy dropped off a steaming basket of rolls and filled our water glasses. When he left, Corinne nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve thought a lot about that myself,” she said. “There are definitely parts I would change, but at the same time, I like who I am most times. And I feel like a lot of my drive and determination comes from not having . . . if that makes sense. Like, instead of saying, ‘I guess this is the way it’s going to be,’ I took it as a challenge. Most kids in my situation would wind up repeating the cycle, but I refused to accept that fate.”

I picked up a roll and set it on her plate, then took one for myself. The waiter came back and poured our champagne, and when he left, she cupped her glass with a shy smile.

“Thank you for this, for tonight. I don’t normally go to places like this.”

“Anything for you,” I murmured.

Her eyes were bright with curiosity as she watched me. “Have you always been a romantic?”

I considered her question. “In a way, I guess I have. I had my first girlfriend at age eight.”

“Eight?” Corinne’s tone was one of shock.

“Yeah.” I chuckled, remembering it. “There was this girl I liked, one of our neighbors. She was ten. Anyway, I told my brothers, and they helped me. They dressed me in a spiffy secondhand suit, bought a heart-shaped box of chocolates, and picked flowers for me to give her. They even helped me write her a poem.”

“Oh my.” Corinne chuckled. “I would love to hear it.”

“Lucky for you, it’s etched in my memory for all eternity, so grab hold of your panties so you don’t wind up throwing them at me out of pure, unadulterated lust,” I warned before clearing my throat. “Roses are red, violets are blue, last night I had a dream, that I was kissing you.”

Corinne tossed her head back and let out a belly laugh as I took a sip of my champagne.

“Are you done?” I asked, feigning insult. “Because I thought it was pretty brilliant myself. And it worked, I’ll have you know.”

“She kissed you for that?” Corinne asked, her eyes widening incredulously.

“Well, no. She kissed me for the chocolates, but still.”

For the next two hours, we talked and shared more stories, no encouragement needed. Some were funny, some were sad. But when our luxurious dinner was over, I felt like we’d made even more strides toward becoming . . . something else. Something different. Something amazing and life-altering.

I couldn’t help but hope tonight would be the night that she came back to my place and stayed. But when I suggested it, Corinne shut down completely, telling me she had to get going and how tired she was.

Once I dropped her off back at the office to pick up her car, I found myself watching her go, feeling lonelier than ever.

Being with Corinne was like a drug. The more I had, the more I craved. The only thing I needed to know was how to make her as addicted to me as I was to her. It was no easy task, considering how hard she was fighting it, but after tonight I was more certain than ever.

She wanted me.

She cared about me.

She might even love me.

But if I wanted her for more than just sex and companionship, I was going to have to be patient.

As she climbed into her car and gave me a little wave, I waved back, a sense of determination settling over me.

It wasn’t good-bye. It was see you tomorrow. Which meant, lucky for me, I had nothing but time on my hands. Time at work, time after work, weekend functions . . . all opportunities to get her to see how good we were together.

And I was going to milk them for all they were worth.Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.