Chapter 3
This man, this man makes me want to drop to my knees and beg him to do dirty things to me. He takes my morals, and throws them out the door with just the look of his smile, his eyes, and of course his hot body.
“Bexley,” he says so deeply it has me clenching my legs together in his car.
“Zeke,” is all I can reply. My brain isn’t functioning.
“You look delicious,” his voice is low, his eyes are on my legs where my skirt is riding high up on his seat. My hand automatically goes there, to protect myself from what he may see. His eyes narrow and I can tell he wants me to move them, to let him look if he chooses..
He drives again, only stopping briefly to look at me. His emotions are not there to see. I want to be witty, smart, but nothing leaves my mouth and I just stare. I can’t seem to do anything else. His jaw is strong, cheekbones high, hair styled so stylish I want to touch it to see what it looks like messed up, with my hands running through it.
He catches me looking, the car comes to a stop and I didn’t even notice. One side of his lip quirks up; he couldn’t have known what I was thinking, could he? I bring my knees tighter together, and the movement brings his eyes down.
“I think it’s best if we go somewhere public,” he says with his roaming eyes. My head nods. Well, I think it does, I hope it does, and his eyes narrow before turning to get out and walking around to my side.
The car door opens, and when I look past him to see where we are, I notice a bar, and my face cringes. Why would he take me here? To get in my pants? Because that could have been made easier; he could just touch me and I’m sure I wouldn’t say no.
“This is my favorite place,” he says noticing my scrunched up expression. He shuts the car door and his hand touches the small of back as he guides me inside. A man comes to the entrance as soon as we enter, greets Zeke with open arms and taps him on the back. I look around, and to me it seems like an ordinary everyday bar. Nothing unusual about it at all.
“Bring me my usual times two, old man,” Zeke says and the man with salt and pepper hair smiles and nods. Zeke takes me to the back and sits down opposite me, his eyes appraising me again. I feel like he assesses me every time he does this, like I have to fight to stay under his gaze.
“You like it here?” I ask him, not being able to make eye contact, to which he has no trouble doing.
“I do,” is all I get in reply.
A chocolate cake is brought out, and it’s set right in front of me. I give it a weird look as I wouldn’t call this dinner. I manage to look at him and see his eyes on me, which seems to be all he’s been doing the whole date.
“Do I have something on my face?” I ask him, touching my face.
“Why would you ask that?” he says tipping his head to the side.
“No reason,” I reply, not wanting to sound like I’m fishing for a compliment when I’m clearly not.
“I don’t do dates,” he says.
“Why?” I ask, it was him that asked me after all.
“I just don’t. No need for it,” he says shrugging his shoulder.
“You just fuck?” I ask, building confidence with him. He did say he doesn’t date, but here he is with me. His eyes flare, they change from their usual beautiful blue to grey in a second.
“That I do, and I do it well.” Now it’s my turn to flare, but not in the eyes, but down below between my legs.
“Why cake?”
“Henry is a family friend, he used to make me this cake on special occasions. Tonight is exactly that, my first date,” he says and I want to laugh, actually I do laugh at him.
“Really?” I say covering my mouth letting out a giggle.
“I love sweet things in my mouth, Bexley,” he says and fuck, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he meant more than the cake in front of us.
The rest of the cake is eaten in silence, and he doesn’t talk again. He just watches me, making me fidget every time I catch him doing so. One time I notice him and my face heats up, he smirks at that.
“Yes,” he says and I look up to see him on his phone. I didn’t even hear it ring. His head drops and then his eyes come back to mine. He mutters some words to which I tune out and then he hangs up.
“It’s time to go,” he says standing, offering me his hand.
“Okay,” I place my hand in his and he squeezes it and looks down at our hands like he can’t believe he just did that.
He drives me back, his eyes flicking from the road to me. It makes me feel so desired like I’ve never been before. It makes me feel sexy the way his eyes trace my legs, my face, my mid-section.
He stops at the apartment and doesn’t get out or say anything. I reach for the door handle and step out. His eyes are now trained on the steering wheel.
“I’ll call you,” he says through the window, still not looking. He takes off, not looking at me again, and leaving me standing there watching. I’m still watching even when he’s been gone for longer than five minutes. Wondering what it is with this man.