Vaughn

“I’ve heard this place is amazing.” Carissa smiled up at me as I helped her out of the car. Her face was lit up in pleasure, making her even more beautiful. Almost impossibly so. There didn’t seem to be a bit of artifice in her, not when her expression gave everything away. She seemed to be a completely open book, and it made me feel even more protective of her.

If my instincts about this situation were right, and they usually were, she was in a need of a hero. Too bad for her, she was stuck with me. I might not be anyone’s idea of a hero, not even my own, but I sure as shit could keep her safe from harm a damn sight better than any other man—including her father, the dumb shit who’d put her in the line of fire in the first place.

“I’ve always wanted to eat here, but I’m surprised the event organizers picked it. It doesn’t seem flashy enough for a quarter-of-a-million-dollar date,” she continued, lowering her voice as we walked into the Japanese Yakiniku restaurant.

The restaurant had been my first choice for several reasons, none of which had anything to do with the event organizers. I was able to book a private dining room which would offer us much-needed seclusion from other diners. I figured she would probably be a little nervous, being alone with me like that considering it was her first date, but the do-it-yourself style meal tended to be a good ice-breaker. Also, it was sure to take us at least a couple of hours to finish our meal, and I’d wanted as much time with her as I could get—even before I’d decided to take her for myself.

“Actually, they didn’t,” I whispered in her ear as the hostess walked up to greet us. “I did.”

Her startled gaze flew up to meet mine, but the hostess’s greeting prevented her from asking any of the questions I saw in her eyes. We followed the hostess to our private dining room, walking side-by-side with my hand resting on Carissa’s lower back. She was dressed more conservatively than she had been at the charity gala, so there wasn’t any bare skin underneath my hand. But damn, I still felt the heat of her through the silky material of her dress.

We were led to a quiet room near the back of the restaurant. The hostess instructed us to place our shoes on a rack off to the right before leaving us alone. I toed mine off and quickly moved to help Carissa out of her strappy heels.

“I’ve got it,” she protested. “You don’t have to help.”

“Maybe not,” I agreed. “But I want to.”

Her cheeks filled with color as I set her hands on my shoulders before wrapping my fingers around her ankle to lift her foot out of her sandal. When she tottered on the other heel, her hands pressed into me and I slid one of my hands up her leg, all the way to her hip, to help steady her. The smooth glide of her skin under my hand had my cock hardening—something I normally had total control over. But with Carissa, it seemed to have a mind of its own, one completely focused on getting inside her no matter how much I willed it back down.

It would have been so damn easy to slide my hands under her skirt after I’d gotten the other sandal off. She was gazing down at me with wide eyes, heated cheeks and parted lips. Her breathing was choppy and I could see her pulse fluttering at her throat. She was just as turned on as I was, but the timing wasn’t right. Although I’d learned everything I could about her in the last two days, she knew virtually nothing about me except my name. So I forced my hands away from her body and turned away from her to put both pairs of shoes on the rack. After taking a few calming breaths, I swiveled back around and helped her down the couple of steps to our sunken table.

“I guess I should have worn pants,” Carissa mumbled, staring down at the cushions on the floor.

Taking in how the room was set up, my lips turned up in a wolfish grin. There was a rectangular wood table, set low to the ground, with a round aluminum grill sunk in the middle. On both sides of the table, there were two long cushions with a bench back on the floor. The table was cut back so you could sit comfortably, but getting down onto the cushion without flashing me her panties was going to be difficult for Carissa. “Or a shorter skirt.”

“That would only make it worse!”

“Or better, depending on your perspective.” I flashed her a wink, making her giggle.

I helped her get settled on one of the cushions and then swept my gaze along her body before I dropped down onto the cushion next to her. “Really, though. Can you blame me? I’d have to be dead not to want to see more of your gorgeous body.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually saying this,” she answered softly. “But ditto.”

Surprised laughter burst from me just as the waiter opened the door and came into the room, carrying a tray laden with several drinks and platters of meats and vegetables. After he placed everything on the table, he made sure the white charcoal in the grill was burning at the proper temperature and then quickly exited the room. Since I’d given them instructions to limit interruptions while we were dining, I was pleased to see he’d brought everything I’d ordered all at once.

“We didn’t even order.” Carissa’s confusion was clear in her voice.

“I took care of it when I made the reservation,” I explained.

She glanced at the array of thinly sliced meats and sliced vegetables before smiling up at me irreverently. “After dropping a quarter of a million dollars on your bid, there wasn’t anything left over in the date budget for a chef to cook the food?”

“Cooking it ourselves is half of the fun,” I assured her. “But we can go somewhere else if you’d prefer.”

“No, this is perfect,” she replied, reaching out to grab my hand. “You could have taken me for fast food, and I’m sure it somehow still would have been perfect.”

“I’m saving the Big Macs for our second date since you deserve the best for your first.” I lifted her hand and pressed a light kiss against her knuckles. “This might not be as fancy as some of the other places I could have taken you, but I can guarantee you a delicious dinner and a fun date.”

“I’m not much of a cook,” she admitted shyly.

I leaned forward and lowered my voice, as though I was sharing a secret with her. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a man.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed all right,” she breathed out.

She was fucking killing my self-control with the signals she was sending my way. I pressed a kiss against her forehead because if I claimed her lips, I wouldn’t want to give them up again for hours and my girl needed to eat. “This isn’t really cooking, it’s grilling. And I’d have to give up my man card if I wasn’t an expert griller.”

She waved her hand towards the middle of the table. “I guess this is the perfect opportunity for you to impress me with your skills.”

I laid some of the sliced steak, marinated beef short ribs, sweet peppers and shitake mushrooms on the grill to start us out. It didn’t take long before the steak was done, and I pulled it from the grill to put on our plates. Carissa went to take a bite, but I stopped her and poured some of the yakiniku sauce on it first.

“You don’t want to miss out on the sauce. It’s what makes yakiniku more than just grilled meat.”

She looked up at me doubtfully, her nose wrinkled up adorably. “What does it taste like?”

“It’s hard to describe the taste of yakiniku sauce if you’ve never had it.”

“I guess I’ll have to trust you and just give it a try then.” She was only joking around, but my chest expanded at hearing her say she trusted me. I wasn’t sure how long I’d have with her to build the kind of trust I had a feeling I was going to need, but it felt like a small step in the right direction. “Mmm, it’s really good. Sweet, garlicky and soy-saucy all at the same time.”

I ate one of the slices off my plate and had to agree with her, the restaurant had outdone themselves with their sauce recipe. As we devoured the food I’d already cooked, I placed more items on the grill, including a portion of pork belly. It only took a couple of moments before flames leapt upwards.

“So much for being an expert at grilling,” Carissa giggled, bending as far back away from the table as she could get.

“Don’t blame me, it’s the pork belly’s fault,” I protested. “I wanted to give you the full yakiniku experience—playing with fire and trying lots of different things.”

“Just be careful. Sometimes when you play with fire, you get burned.”

“I can handle the heat for the both of us.” She didn’t know it yet, but I wasn’t talking about the flames shooting up from the grill. I was referring to the danger heading her way—trouble she’d never even know about if I could keep her in the dark while also protecting her from it.