“That makes us casual acquaintances at best.”
Another amused huff falls from him, making my teeth grind. The urge to ask him what’s so funny is snuffed by our food arriving, but before I can grab mine, he reaches across and grabs the entire tray. “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t pause or slow down to answer me. “Going to a table,” he calls over his shoulder.
His long legs move over the black-and-white tiles of the diner, dodging people and tables, until he reaches a wooden booth in the back. He sets the tray down, slips off his jacket, and tosses it to the far side, then slides into the seat facing the door, making it impossible for me to see who might’ve been following me. But the eerie feeling from earlier has vanished, so hopefully whoever it was lost interest.
He places my grilled cheese and hot chocolate on the opposite side, along with a bowl of tomato soup, leaving a basket of fries and an enormous greasy cheeseburger for him.
I won’t lie. That cheeseburger looks amazing.
I don’t sit. I continue to stand there as if I’ve grown roots, staring at the food and him. “What are you doing?”
He tosses a fry into his mouth as he meets my eyes. “What are you? A parrot? I’m eating my food. You should do the same before it gets cold. Grilled cheese is disgusting if it’s not hot.”
Pursing my lips, I shed my coat and slide into the booth. An annoyed huff escapes me as I lift a triangle of grilled cheese and dip it into the soup, then bring it to my lips.
My eyes roll back when I take a bite, moaning for the entire diner to hear. When I open them, Jagger is staring at me with a wicked smirk on his face. “What?”
The grin grows until all his teeth show, and I’m a little surprised to see they’re not perfect. Almost, but a couple of the bottom ones overlap slightly. “Sandwich good?”
“Yes, why?”
He pops a French fry into his mouth. “Because those moans sound like someone is eatingyou.”
“There’s not a thing a man can do that would top this.” These lies will get me struck down one day, but for now, I dip my sandwich again and take another bite. This time, exaggerating the moan.
“I bet I could.”
“That’s pretty big talk, but I have to disagree. Nothing can beat the way the buttery crisp bread explodes on your tongue, or the silky, smooth cheese melts in your mouth. And the soup…the delicious salty tang when it hits your throat…” I kiss my fingers, tossing them in the air. “Perfection.”
He clears his throat, shifting in his seat, and a wry grin spreads across my face that my innuendo wasn’t missed. Shaking his head, he takes a sip from his drink, then leans forward and says, “Sweetheart, I bet I could make that pretty little pussy of yours weep without trying. I’ve been told I have a talented tongue.”
I choke on my food. Death by sandwich without experiencing all that tongue has to offer sounds like a travesty.
If what I experienced last night from a simple kiss is a sign, then he has more than a talented tongue. It is fucking magical. And that was just a kiss.
I know he was with my sister, but he also has a player reputation. At least, the gossip sites say he does. But who minds being played by a mouth that skilled?
The thought of what he could do with my lady bits sends a sharp jolt of electricity right to my clit.
Cut that out! You know you can’t have any part of him.
Except you sort of already did.
Shut up. No one is talking to you.
He grins as I wipe my mouth, trying to hide my blistered cheeks. “Rude.” I stick my tongue out.
He chuckles and picks up his burger, and my thoughts return to the bruising along his jaw. I wonder if it hurts to eat.
“You keep staring. Are you sure you don’t want to ask?”
Busted again. Though I’m not being inconspicuous. My red hair dances around my shoulders as I shake my head. “It’s none of my business,” I lie because he has no clue I already know what happened. “But I do want to know what you’re doing here.”
“You really fixate, don’t you?”
“Not in general.” I shrug. “But it’s a little strange you just appeared here.”
