“What do you want from me, O’Neill?”
Rory released a heavy sigh, leaning back
in the chair. He studied me carefully, as if he were attempting to solve a
puzzle. He could try for the rest of his life; I was one jigsaw he’d never be
able to solve.
“To date you,” he replied simply, and I
belted out a laugh.
“Why?” I asked, continuing without
allowing for an answer. “You are the type that goes on dates to get the prize
at the end. You got the prize, buddy. You didn’t even have to work for it. If
you are coming back because you think I’m a big skank-bank and you can get a
withdrawal whenever you want, you’ve got the wrong girl.”
It was his turn to laugh. It was an
erotic sound that put my already frayed nerves on a higher, more precarious
edge than they had been. I followed his posture and leaned back, but instead of
holding my stomach in gut busting laughter, I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Is that what you think this is?” he
gasped. “Christ, I could have slept with at least seventy women since you.”
“Is that supposed to win me over?”
“Yes,” he answered seriously. “I have no
problem picking women up.”
I didn’t doubt that. Hadn’t since the
night I’d met him. It was the charisma, the mega-watt smile, the sultry
sex-filled voice. His body, smile, voice, and touch promised a good night in
the making if one simply took his hand.
I want to
take his fucking hand. . .
“Good, then you won’t be alone tonight,”
I replied, moving to rise from the table when he reached out and grabbed my
arm, stopping me.
“I don’t want other women, Francesca. I
want you,” he said, the smile missing from his face.
“I’ve wanted nothing but you since
I shook my head.
“I’m not like other women, Mr. O’Neill.”
“Please, call me—”
“Rory, it doesn’t matter what I call you.
The message will remain the same.”
“Didn’t you ever stop to think that maybe
that’s what I like about you?” he countered.
No, no I didn’t. Being different is what
set me apart—in a bad way. That’s what makes people dislike me. Not that I mind that—being disliked. I’ve spent the
majority of my life being different,
being an outsider. I am the woman that I am, with the issues I have, and that
fact will never change. I’m proud of the obstacles I have overcome and look
forward to defeating the ones that are waiting in the wings.
“You don’t know me to know whether you
like me or not,” I argued. My dad had always told me I’d be great for the
“I know what I felt with you.”
“You felt tequila,” I replied. “And my
vagina. Go find some Cuervo and a willing participant and repeat.”
“First, I have a high tolerance. That
tequila barely touched me. Quit trying to downplay what happened between us.
Take a little responsibility.”
“Ha!” I belted, placing a hand over my
mouth. “Listen, we had a really great time. But I don’t date, I don’t do
romance or happily ever after. That’s not written in my stars.”
“What is written in your stars?” he asked
with a quirk of the brow.
Enchantress Of Books Blog Tours
/* Style Definitions */
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
“A bright future with me, myself, and I.”