Dating and Other Dangers by Natalie Anderson Read Free Book Online
Authors: Natalie Anderson
because you know it’ll make the other person feel good?’
‘Is that a bad thing?’
‘It is if it’s not honest.’
‘All right,’ he said softly, and leaned across the table. ‘You want honesty? Here’s some for you—I think you look fantastic in that dress. I think you look really fantastic. I don’twant you to. It would be a lot easier if I didn’t find you attractive, but
honestly
I think you look …’
‘What?’
‘It’s
indescribable
,’ he said roughly. ‘Maybe you should feel what you do to me? Can you handle that kind of honesty?’
His hand shot out and grabbed hers, and before she could blink he’d pressed her palm to his chest. Through the cotton she could feel the heat, the fast, rhythmic pounding. Suddenly she could hear it too, thudding in her ears. Her own blood was pumping in time with his. And that wasn’t her body’s only reaction. She breathed more quickly, shallow. And worst of all was the softening—that warm, melting sensation happening in secret deep inside her. The readying for full possession by a body so much bigger and harder than hers.
She stayed frozen for five seconds too long, until awareness of their surroundings slowly returned. She was stretched across a table in a fine French restaurant, gazing into this guy’s gorgeous cinnamon-brown eyes like as if was mesmerised. She was feeling this intense, intimate
thing
…
Then she remembered her rule.
Don’t be too sexual.
And this was all about the rules. Sheswallowed, battling to return to the right regime. But every movement was sexual. Everything about him was sexual.
He
was a complete magnet and he knew it. But she was going to disarm him—be the one piece he couldn’t pull.
‘Oh, you’re good,’ she said, forcing coolness into her voice, sliding her hand out from under his and bringing it back to press her fist hard against her belly beneath the table-edge. ‘You like to have the women want you, don’t you? Maybe that’s the real reason you compliment so much—it’s not their need you’re filling, it’s your own.’
‘And you’re really good at coming up with fiction.’ He sat back, looking a ton cooler than she’d sounded. ‘Whereas I prefer
facts
. And I did my research on you.’
‘And what
facts
do you think you found out?’ Her temperature soared again as anger bubbled.
‘You put it all up there yourself. It wasn’t hard to find. That very first entry on WomanBWarned.’ He leaned forward. ‘Rafe Buxton, wasn’t it?’
She avoided answering by taking another sip of her wine, her blood drumming in her ears. How dared he bring that up? That was personal.
‘What were you thinking, going with a guy called Rafe in the first place? Weren’t the alarm bells ringing then?’ he asked, refilling her glass when she set it down.
‘I’m not discussing this with you,’ she snapped. ‘You’re unable to feel any empathy. All you want to do is push your agenda.’
‘Not true,’ he said, annoyingly quietly. ‘I only want to understand where you’re coming from.’
She just glared at him.
‘So he was a “virginity collector”?’
Heat blinded her—anger, yes, but incredible embarrassment too. She’d been so stupid, and she really didn’t want to relive it. Didn’t want to discuss her pathetic sexual past with such a shark. She didn’t want him to know it at all, so she had another sip of wine. A big one.
‘So your first was a jerk?’ He shrugged. ‘You don’t have to let it colour the rest of your life.’
Oh, she couldn’t not answer that. ‘What I won’t do is let him get away with it. He preys on young women who are getting their first taste of freedom. Finding independence.’ A tutor at a university, he dazzled naïve students with his good-looks and charm and intellectual ability—or at least that façade. Onceshe’d found out the truth she’d seen that those things were cultivated, not innate or truly deep.
‘But we all have to make mistakes.
‘Is that a bad thing?’
‘It is if it’s not honest.’
‘All right,’ he said softly, and leaned across the table. ‘You want honesty? Here’s some for you—I think you look fantastic in that dress. I think you look really fantastic. I don’twant you to. It would be a lot easier if I didn’t find you attractive, but
honestly
I think you look …’
‘What?’
‘It’s
indescribable
,’ he said roughly. ‘Maybe you should feel what you do to me? Can you handle that kind of honesty?’
His hand shot out and grabbed hers, and before she could blink he’d pressed her palm to his chest. Through the cotton she could feel the heat, the fast, rhythmic pounding. Suddenly she could hear it too, thudding in her ears. Her own blood was pumping in time with his. And that wasn’t her body’s only reaction. She breathed more quickly, shallow. And worst of all was the softening—that warm, melting sensation happening in secret deep inside her. The readying for full possession by a body so much bigger and harder than hers.
She stayed frozen for five seconds too long, until awareness of their surroundings slowly returned. She was stretched across a table in a fine French restaurant, gazing into this guy’s gorgeous cinnamon-brown eyes like as if was mesmerised. She was feeling this intense, intimate
thing
…
Then she remembered her rule.
Don’t be too sexual.
And this was all about the rules. Sheswallowed, battling to return to the right regime. But every movement was sexual. Everything about him was sexual.
He
was a complete magnet and he knew it. But she was going to disarm him—be the one piece he couldn’t pull.
‘Oh, you’re good,’ she said, forcing coolness into her voice, sliding her hand out from under his and bringing it back to press her fist hard against her belly beneath the table-edge. ‘You like to have the women want you, don’t you? Maybe that’s the real reason you compliment so much—it’s not their need you’re filling, it’s your own.’
‘And you’re really good at coming up with fiction.’ He sat back, looking a ton cooler than she’d sounded. ‘Whereas I prefer
facts
. And I did my research on you.’
‘And what
facts
do you think you found out?’ Her temperature soared again as anger bubbled.
‘You put it all up there yourself. It wasn’t hard to find. That very first entry on WomanBWarned.’ He leaned forward. ‘Rafe Buxton, wasn’t it?’
She avoided answering by taking another sip of her wine, her blood drumming in her ears. How dared he bring that up? That was personal.
‘What were you thinking, going with a guy called Rafe in the first place? Weren’t the alarm bells ringing then?’ he asked, refilling her glass when she set it down.
‘I’m not discussing this with you,’ she snapped. ‘You’re unable to feel any empathy. All you want to do is push your agenda.’
‘Not true,’ he said, annoyingly quietly. ‘I only want to understand where you’re coming from.’
She just glared at him.
‘So he was a “virginity collector”?’
Heat blinded her—anger, yes, but incredible embarrassment too. She’d been so stupid, and she really didn’t want to relive it. Didn’t want to discuss her pathetic sexual past with such a shark. She didn’t want him to know it at all, so she had another sip of wine. A big one.
‘So your first was a jerk?’ He shrugged. ‘You don’t have to let it colour the rest of your life.’
Oh, she couldn’t not answer that. ‘What I won’t do is let him get away with it. He preys on young women who are getting their first taste of freedom. Finding independence.’ A tutor at a university, he dazzled naïve students with his good-looks and charm and intellectual ability—or at least that façade. Onceshe’d found out the truth she’d seen that those things were cultivated, not innate or truly deep.
‘But we all have to make mistakes.