Page 10

10

ALLISON

I lost control.

Jealousy overwhelmed me inside the diner when the waitress flirted with Connor.

I expected him to flirt back, not appear uncomfortable at her advances.

Something sharp sparked to life.

From an ember to an inferno, it consumed rational thought.

When she looked at him like he was a piece of meat, I snapped.

I sprang out of my seat and inserted myself between them.

Pressing my palm against his sculpted chest, I batted my lashes and gave that skinny tramp a fake smile laced with ferocity.

Then I said the words that would haunt me to my grave.

“Sorry, sugar. He’s taken."

She raised her brows and looked at my curvy body with disgust,

as though there was no way in hell someone like me — a fat girl — could land a hotter-than-hell, sculpted Greek god of a boyfriend like him.

All my insecurities rose up, and I snapped.

I was bullied in school about my weight, with high school being the worst of it.

I was bullied at home, too.

My father controlled what I ate, denying me desserts, limiting my portion sizes.

So when a mean girl eyed me with disdain, I went all in.

"Come on, babe," I said, flashing her a fake, venomous smile.

I curled my fingers into the fabric of his shirt and dragged him out of the diner to the ridiculous station wagon I’d named Wanda.

Then I shoved him into the car and stomped to the driver’s side.

I slammed the door, gripping the steering wheel like I was choking the bitchy diner waitress.

Connor sat in the passenger seat, staring at me with a look that made it very clear just how badly I fucked up.

Not only did he look like he was two seconds away from jumping my bones, but the goddamn smirk and raised eyebrows told me exactly who was in control.

Spoiler alert: It wasn’t me.

I grabbed my coffee, taking a long, angry sip, hoping it would extinguish my anger.

I froze when the asshole said, "You okay there, sweetheart?"

I squeezed the cup like it was a lifeline, forcing my voice to sound normal. "Peachy."

I prayed he’d believe me.

Hoped he’d drop it.

But oh no.

The fucker kept going.

"You sure?" The arrogant, sexy smirk made me want to punch him in the face.

I glared at the road. "Shut up, Byrns."

His annoying chuckle irritated me even more.

He handed me the car keys, our fingers touching. Electricity shot through my skin like a live wire.

My hands shook with anger.

And something I didn’t want to think about.

I jammed the key into the ignition and stomped on the gas, blowing out of the diner parking lot with no destination in mind.

I just needed to get away from that bitchy waitress before I made the six o'clock news.

* * *

My next mistake occurred when I drove Wanda—the wood-paneled beast from hell—to another restaurant.

Because clearly, nothing cures a mortifying jealousy spiral like aggressively pretending I didn’t just claim a man who isn’t mine.

I refrain from looking at or speaking to him the entire car ride.

We silently head inside.

Immediately, I realize my mistake.

The restaurant is cozy .

Dimly lit, full of deep red booths and flickering candles.

It’s the nicest place we’ve been to since this hellish trip started.

His eyes flick over me, slow and assessing.

Like he’s dissecting me, picking me apart one piece at a time.

His eyes flick over me, slow and assessing. Like he’s dissecting me, picking me apart one piece at a time.

My cheeks burn under the intensity of his stare.

I squirm, feeling off-balance.

It doesn’t help that he’s sitting in the fucking booth beside me.

His arm stretches along the back of the seat, inches from my shoulder.

I can feel his heat. His undeniable presence.

I sip my water, avoiding eye contact.

He leans in, and I swear to God, the entire world stops.

"You’ve been having fun messing with me, haven’t you?" His tone is low and amused. Full of cockiness, like he already knows the answer and is just fucking with me, wanting me to admit it.

I freeze mid-sip.

Slowly, I set my glass down, forcing a neutral expression. "I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His smirk is dangerous.

"You know exactly what I’m talking about," he murmurs, his fingers tapping the back of the seat.

He tilts his head, dragging his gaze down my body, short-circuiting something inside me.

I clear my throat, reaching for my drink again.

"You’re imagining things, Byrns."

"Am I?" His voice is pure sin. A slow drawl, like he’s savoring this.

I clench my thighs together.

Do not react.

He leans forward, propping his forearms on the table.

"I think," he murmurs, "you realize you don’t like being on the receiving end of this game."

My stomach tightens.

He’s right.

I don’t like it.

At all.

I snort, rolling my eyes. "You wish."

He chuckles.

The sound does something dangerous to me.

My insides heat.

I squirm, my body temperature shooting up several degrees.

His fingers trace the rim of his glass. “Why have you been pretending the kiss in the bathroom never happened?”

My entire body locks up.

I force myself to breathe.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," I lie.

His eyes darken — and then the bastard smirks.

"Oh, come on, Allie. You remember it." His shrewd gaze cuts straight through me.

"You pulled me into the bathroom like you couldn’t stand another second without my mouth on you."

He pauses before delivering the fatal blow.

"Twice."

My eyes dart around as my face erupts in flames.

"Lower your damn voice," I hiss.

The slow, wicked curl of his lips tells me he’s enjoying every second of this.

I panic-sip my water, desperate to cool off.

The waiter appears, placing our food in front of us.

Connor calmly thanks him, like he’s not currently wrecking me in public.

I reach for my fork, gripping it too hard.

Connor leans back, stretching his arms behind his head, watching me with that goddamn smirk like he knows I’m unraveling.

Even though I’m avoiding eye contact, I feel his gaze, heavy and expectant.

Waiting for me to break.

I refuse to let that happen.

He leans closer, lips grazing my ear.

“Allie.”

I jump, startled by the feel of his warm breath on my skin.

My hands fly to the booth to brace myself—and one of them lands directly on his dick.

I freeze, horrified.

Time stops.

My breath rasps in and out of my mouth.

Jesus, Allie.

Let go of his junk.

Connor inhales sharply, his entire body tense.

The air between us is thick. Charged.

The bastard chuckles, low and rough.

" That’s one way to get my attention, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement.

A whimper escapes me.

Fucking whimper.

Jesus Christ.

I stare at my lap, my face on fire.

When I finally dare to peek at him, Connor is leaning back in the booth, smirking like the cocky menace he is.

"What’s wrong, Payne? Lose your appetite?"