❝𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧, 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐨. 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞.❞
❦
"What are you doing in my fridge?"
I immediately grabbed my knife strapped to my thigh and pointed it at the person behind me's throat.
"Seriously?" I whispered.
He wasn't even fazed by...
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I cleared my throat, getting up.
He pulled me down onto his left leg. I sat with both of my legs between his, my knees touching his right leg. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and I felt my heart rate picking up.
"Tell me the real reason why you won't let me buy you things. And don't lie to me, Nirah."
I stay quiet and his hand drops down to my lower back.
"Because no one does anything - especially not men - without wanting something in return, something I'm not or won't be able to give," I say and his hand moves to my waist.
"And what's that?" he asks and I cross my arms over my chest.
"You know what I'm talking about, don't play dumb with me," I narrow my eyes at him and he squeezes my waist, causing me to sit up straight.
"Watch it," he warns. "Explain it to me, tesoro."
My heart nearly leaps out my chest at the little pet name he gives me.
I sigh, feeling regret washing over me.
He's simply being nice and here I am, throwing it in his face that his money means nothing to me.
But is it real?
Is he being genuine?
I don't know but I can't take the risk.
"Tesoro? You're not speaking," he says as his hand gently rubs my waist.
"Men always have an ulterior motive, no matter what. They do things and expect whatever they want in return and when you don't oblige they throw it in your face, making you feel-" I cut myself off, grabbing his hand. "Can you stop. It's really hard to talk when you're doing that," I say slowly letting go of his hand.
"Does my touch have an effect on you?" he asks and I breathlessly scoff.
"No," I cross my arms over my chest.
"Well then we don't have a problem here," he says and rests his hand on top of my thigh.
"Why did you stop talking?" he asks and I sigh.
"Because I don't even remember what I was going to say..." I slowly trail off, watching his hand closely.
God, even his hands are attractive.
"What if I can prove to you that I don't have an ulterior motive?" he asks and I lick my lips.
"You can't. So don't try," I say as my mind wonders to places it shouldn't as I don't take my eyes off of his hand.
Why do I want him to move his hand to the inside of my thigh.
Fuck!
"I don't have an ulterior motive and I'll prove it. Whether you like it or not," he says and my head snaps to him.
