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Chapter 37
Poison
Black shooting stars
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Idon’t get nervous. Fuck that, I’m NOT nervous. I swallow a bit to lather my throat and settle my jumping nerves that can't seem to get a grip.
Alright, tonight I am. I’ll admit that. Ever since I saw her walk into that room, owning it with her eyes only on me kept me in a state where my heart can’t slow down for nothing, and my mind is about to collapse.
We step foot across the foyer, the warm breeze thawing my cheeks. An aromatic scent of cinnamon and pine needles fills the space.
Thankfully, the candles didn’t burn down the house. The smell is relaxing, but I wish it cooled down my racing heart. I hope she doesn’t notice. I’m playing it off like I’m not sweating bullets under this shirt.
“It is so beautiful,” she says with awe. I spin around, catching her viewing the home like it’s a museum. Her slender neck twisting and turning with a beautiful smile on her face. And to think before she wouldn’t dare form a twitch on her lips for me. Now it’s all she does. And I love every bit of it. “You wouldn’t think this would be tucked off in the woods.” She glides her fingers from mine, walking past me.
I stroll up behind her as she catches the set-up at the far end of the window. Her breath hitches only slightly, not enough to be audible. But the rise in her chest tells me she wasn’t expecting me to have a table ready with a set of black and white roses and a gift for her. I do have dinner, but from the way she looks, I’m not so sure if it’ll be food I’ll be feasting on.
She turns to me, her eyes glowing like two dark marbles under a light. “Who are you?”
I don’t know, I can't explain what I’m feeling. I want to see her smile, happy, and be with me.
“Ronan Alvarez,” I tease, easing the jacket from her shoulders. She switches the box around in her hands to pull her hands out of her jacket. I toss it on the hook by the foyer wall, then I guide her to the table, where it’s presented neatly.
“Sit and I’ll be back.”
“Yes, sir,” she says with a flirty tone.
I pause and glower at her with a possessive stare because that ‘sir’ only makes my dick grow harder. “If you want me to enjoy some dinner, then I’d suggest you to not say shit like that to me.”
She places her elbow on the table and leans into it, turning to look at me with that devious gleam in her eyes.
“Okay.” She rests her palm on her cheek. “Poison,” she drawls exotically.
I dig my teeth into my lip, and debate whether to say fuck this dinner or to stick with the script.
I point a finger at her. “Be good for once.”