Beg For Me: Chapter 4

Sophia laughs. When I continue staring at her without smiling, she stops laughing and makes a face at me.

“Very funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

After a pause to consider me in narrow-eyed silence, she buys more time by taking a sip of her wine. Then she sets down the glass, delicately wipes the corners of her mouth with her napkin, places the napkin to one side of her plate, and pins me in a gaze of ferocious scorn.

God, I love it when she does that.

“I thought I made myself clear that this wasn’t a date.”

“You did.”

“Good.”

“But I didn’t believe you. And people don’t have to date to fall in love.”

She blinks. “Love? You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, don’t you think?”

“No. You’re just behind.”

Her look of disbelief turns into a frown of disapproval. I’m pissing her off, but not enough for her to get up and walk out. Yet.

Comfortable walking that tightrope, I smile and pour more wine into both our glasses.

“Okay, we’ll pretend I’m joking. I love that dress you’re wearing, by the way. Red is fantastic on you. Brings out the fire in your eyes. Not that they need any help. Those beautiful brown eyes of yours could light up deep space. What should we talk about next? Unless you don’t want to talk, which is fine. I’m happy to sit and look at you. You’re the best thing I’ve seen in forever.”

She runs her tongue over her teeth like she’s imagining ripping out my throat with them.

“I don’t know if this nonsense works on girls your age, but I’m not interested in playing games.”

“Then we’re on the same page.”

“And not that it matters, because this isn’t a date, but I don’t date the delusional.”

“I’m not delusional. I’m determined. I knew the first time I saw your picture I wanted to be with you. I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

A stare down commences. I sense I’m in danger of being stabbed with a dinner knife, but if that’s the price I have to pay, so be it.

I didn’t get this far so I could pussyfoot around. If this is my only shot, I’m giving it everything.

Besides, if worse comes to worst, I’ll have Callum kidnap her and lock her in my basement.

Sophia reaches for her wine. She sips it slowly, considering me. When she sets the wineglass down again, she appears less homicidal.

“Almost anything you want to know about my company can be found on the web. It’s public information.”

I sigh heavily. “Not this again.”

“Or is it dirt on the principals you want? If so, you won’t get it from me.”

“I don’t give a shit about the principals. I can find out anything I want to know about your board through background checks, a PI, or a computer genius I know who once hacked into NASA’s mainframe and intercepted the source code of the International Space Station.”

After a beat, she says, “Must be a good guy to have on payroll.”

“He’s not on payroll. He’s a friend. And he’s a she, incidentally. Her name’s Tabitha West. And before you ask, no, we’re not involved and never were. She’s married to a retired Marine I owe my life to.”

Sophia deliberates all that in silence, her expression slowly changing from irked to intrigued. She wants to know all about that carrot I just dangled in front of her, but is too proud to go there.

“I wasn’t going to ask if you were involved,” she says. “But I do have a request.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t spit that out so fast. You don’t even know what it is.”

“It doesn’t matter what it is. Whatever you ask me for, you can have.”

She says archly, “How about your head on a platter?”

“You don’t want me dead. Not tonight, anyway.”

“What makes you so certain?”

I look at her mouth, then back into her eyes. My voice comes out husky. “Because I haven’t made you come yet.”

She holds my gaze unflinchingly, her face impassive, her posture relaxed. The only tell to the storm I sense raging inside her is the pulse thrumming hard on the side of her neck.

“You’re obviously an intelligent person, Carter, but this is reckless. You can’t just go around saying sexual things to women. You’ll get yourself into legal trouble.”

“I apologize if I’ve offended you. But you don’t have to worry about me being sued for sexual harassment because I never speak this way to anyone.” I pause to read her expression, but it gives nothing away. “Are you offended?”

“Unfortunately, no. Don’t smile, you’re still in trouble.”

The way she said that, all flashing dark eyes and low, threatening tone, sends a thrill of excitement through me. My dick stirs.

The fucker likes it when she’s mad at me even more than when she smiles.

“What I was going to request before you decided to throw your manners out the window was that you relax.”

“Relax?”

“Yes. Turn off the charm. Dial down the intensity. Stop flirting so outrageously. This lavish love bombing of yours is making me uncomfortable. Deal?”

By now, my dick is throbbing. I’m not sure if it’s because Sophia is so angry or because she said this was a date without realizing it. I try to keep my face very somber when I answer.

“Deal. I’ll dial it down. I promise.”

She pauses to see if I’m sincere. Whatever she finds on my face or in my eyes, it must satisfy her, because she murmurs, “Good boy.”

If I thought I was hard before, those two words stiffen my dick until it’s painful.

Stifling a moan, I stare at her, wondering how I’m going to get through the night pretending I don’t want to kiss her.

And how the hell I can get her to call me her good boy again.

After a moment, she shakes her head and turns her attention to the bar. Her profile is stunning. Upswept dark hair, long neck, elegant posture…the woman is as regal as a queen. I open my mouth to tell her that, but catch myself in the nick of time.

I clear my throat and settle back into my chair, focusing on my wine instead of my aching dick, and give her space to restart the conversation.

Just as I’m getting worried we might sit in silence for the rest of the night, she casts me a coy sideways glance and smiles.

“What are you smiling about?”

“I was thinking I’d like to pay you another compliment, but I might wait to see how you behave.”

“Now you have to tell me.”

She arches one dark eyebrow, indicating I should watch my demands. I soften my tone and try to appear harmless.

“Please?”

“All right, but don’t forget that you’re still in detention.”

A vivid fantasy of me sitting at a desk in a classroom and her standing over me, holding a ruler and threatening to pull down my pants and spank my bare ass with it, leaves me speechless and makes my hard dick twitch.

She takes my silence as obedience and smiles wider.

“You’re direct. I like that.”

“I thought you didn’t like me saying all those things.”

“Well, I haven’t decided yet if it’s genuine or you’re full of shit, but either way, I appreciate the effort.”

She glances down and toys with the stem of her wineglass. “So if you are being genuine, I apologize for being testy.” Then she glances up and glares at me. “But if you’re full of shit, I’ll never speak to you again after we split the check.”

Fuck, I want to kiss this woman so much.

I want to kiss her all over her face and body, her wrists and thighs and feet. The only problem with that is that she doesn’t want me to, and I suspect I’ve graduated from walking a tightrope to an even more dangerous situation.

I’m standing at the lip of a bottomless black chasm, and she’s deciding whether or not to give me a hard shove over the edge.

I say gruffly, “I can tell you something that might make you believe I’m being genuine, but also…you might get mad at me.”

“Why would I get mad at you?”

“Because you’ll think it’s unhinged.”

“Why would I think that?”

Her stare is piercing. I try not to squirm in my chair. My dick is pulsing, my heart is racing, and a herd of bulls is stampeding through my stomach.

“Because it is unhinged.” I add hopefully, “But also maybe romantic.”

“Why don’t you just tell me what it is, and let me decide.”

There are about four dozen things I’ve done in an effort to meet her, but I choose one of the more innocent-sounding ones. Because I know if I tell her I moved into her neighborhood just so we could “accidentally” bump into each other, this conversation is over, and I’ll probably get served with a court order to stay at least five hundred feet away.

“The meeting I called with your board.”

“What about it?”

“It had nothing to do with a merger.”

She studies me for a moment. “Okay. I’ll bite. What did it have to do with?”

“You.”

After a moment, she repeats carefully, “Me.”

I nod, holding her gaze. “I needed to meet you.”

“Needed.”

Her tone is soft and hard at the same time. I don’t know what it means, only that it isn’t good. “Don’t be mad at me for telling the truth.”

“This isn’t anger. This is genuine confusion. Why go to all the trouble of organizing a bogus meeting when you could have simply called me up and asked me out?”

“Would you have said yes if I did?”

She stays silent, but her pursed lips give me the answer.

“I didn’t think so.”

The waiter arrives. He asks if we’d like him to clear our plates. When Sophia nods, I panic that she’s about to jump up from the table and run out. I ask for dessert menus to buy some time.

She sends me a pointed look, then shakes her head in exasperation. But she stays in her chair and doesn’t tell him to bring the check, so I breathe easier.

The moment he walks away, she says, “The way you acted in that meeting.”

“Like I think I’m king of Earth? Yeah. It’s a thing I do. My therapist says it’s overcompensating for feelings of deep insecurity.”

She takes a moment to consider that. “You’re in therapy?”

And probably will be forever. Instead of saying that aloud, I nod. “I’m working on myself so my baggage doesn’t become everybody else’s burden.”

“Carter, that’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. But you look surprised.”

“It’s just that I don’t know many men who’d admit they need help.”

“You’re talking about your ex.”

Her laugh is small. “Yes, I’m talking about my ex. You’re inconveniently perceptive. God, this is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had.”

I grin at her. “It’s a good one, though. Admit it. You’re having fun.”

Now her laugh is wry. “Fun isn’t exactly the word I’d use, but you’re interesting, Carter. I’ll give you that.”

“I’ll take it.”

The waiter returns with two dessert menus. He presents them with a flourish, offers a recommendation, then asks if we’d care for after-dinner drinks.

“I’ll take a Frangelico, please. Neat. Salted rim. Sophia?”

“The same.”

“Prego.” Fabrizio retreats. Now Sophia is staring at me with more than a hint of suspicion.

“I’m going to ask you a question. And you’re going to tell me the truth.”

When I don’t say anything, she prompts, “You will tell the truth. Promise me.”

I exhale slowly, then nod, my body full of dread and my stupid hard dick still straining in her direction.

“What’s your real relationship with the girl you were with at the coffee shop?”

“Katie’s just a friend.” Sophia looks doubtful, so I keep going. “It only took two dates before we realized it wouldn’t work out. But we both love to cycle, so we still do that occasionally.”

“Ah. Well, I can see why you would’ve wanted to date her. She’s a very pretty girl.”

“Which reminds me, she said you’re sexy. She wanted to know if you were into girls. She likes older women. We both do.”

Sophia opens her mouth, then closes it again. She takes a thoughtful sip of her wine.

“That’s flattering, but I don’t do the group thing. Watching my brother juggle multiple partners at one time convinced me that takes a certain emotional flexibility I don’t have. I guess I’m too territorial.”

There’s an underlying coolness in her tone that I don’t understand until it dawns on me that she thinks I’m trying to get her into a threesome. I rush to reassure her.

“Me too. I don’t share. And in case I didn’t make myself clear, I wasn’t hoping you’d say yes about being into girls. I want you to myself.”

She stares balefully at me, her brows drawn together and her lips pinched, then suddenly starts laughing.

“What’s funny?”

“Does this little routine of yours actually work?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, Carter. You’re good-looking, charming, and rich. You must have women throwing themselves at you all over the place.”

My heart rolls over like a dog performing a trick for its owner. “You think I’m good-looking?”

She sighs. “My point is that this Casanova love machine act is unnecessary. And you did promise to relax, remember?”

“I remember. But it isn’t an act or a routine. It’s not something I do with other people. It’s you. You’re fascinating.”

Her wrinkled nose is impossibly cute, even though it indicates she’s displeased with me.

“Not to make it weird, but I’ll tell you why if you want to hear it.”

She debates it silently, her gaze roving all over my face. Finally, she lifts her chin, giving me permission to proceed.

“That piece Power magazine did about you right after you took on the role of COO at TriCast blew me away. Your confidence. Your poise. Your fucking intelligence. You used words in that interview I’ve never heard of before, and I’ve got a very expensive education.”

“From what I’ve read about you, most of your time at college was spent far away from the library.”

Her laugh is throaty. Teasing. I fight the need to lean over the table, seize her face in my hands, and kiss her until she’s breathless.

“I take it you’ve seen my Wikipedia page.”

She shrugs. “I like to keep an eye on the competition.”

“That story about the yacht party with the girls’ volleyball team was completely exaggerated. And we’re not competition.”

“Oh, but we are.”

“Not even a little bit.”

“No? What would your father say if he knew who you were having dinner with right now?”

I laugh. “He’d burst a brain vessel. We’d have to put him on life support. Except he has one of those do-not-resuscitate orders, so tomorrow, we’d start planning his funeral. It’d be worth it, though, Sophia. It would totally be worth killing my dad to have shared a meal with you.”

Chewing the corner of her lower lip, she tries hard not to smile. “You were right. I do think you’re unhinged. Here comes Fabi with our drinks. Try not to say anything outrageous for the next ten minutes, and I’ll consider letting you give me a kiss goodnight.”

Whatever she sees on my face makes her add sternly, “On the cheek.” Then, after a moment, she sighs in exasperation. “I meant the cheek on my face, Carter, but if you don’t get your mind out of the gutter, I will make you kiss my ass. And get down on your knees and beg me for forgiveness for your terrible manners!”

I stare at her, suppressing a full-body shiver of excitement at the image her words painted in my mind.

I’ll beg her for anything she wants, but it damn well isn’t forgiveness I’m after.