Captivated by Him

by Terri E. Laine

  I lifted my hand palm up because she was right.

  “No judgment. It’s cute.”

  “Good, now where are you taking me?”

  I didn’t bother to respond because we were there. The strip mall we pulled into didn’t look like much, but one of the best restaurants I’d ever eaten at in my life operated here.

  “Chinese takeout?”

  The confusion on her face only amplified the disappointment in her voice. Note: She didn’t like Chinese food. It took a second before the right half of my brain caught up with the other. Why the hell would I be noting that? This is a one and done, remember?

  I got out. Reluctant as she was, she’d stayed put, giving me the opportunity to open her door and help her out. At least I’d gotten that right. Though the stupefied expression on her face probably meant she hadn’t noticed that I’d acted like a gentleman for once.

  She slipped her fingers into mine instead of pulling away after she’d gotten out. The way she clutched at me told me she was nervous, so I held on, or so I told myself. I walked us past the Chinese food joint and through a nondescript door. The restaurant was a little-known gem that those who were lucky to find carried like treasure they didn’t want to share.

  As soon as we walked in, a man with a white shirt and apron that covered black pants held out a hand in greeting to Megan.

  “Buona sera.” When she looked lost, he said, “Good evening.”

  His eyes finally met mine, “Ciao!”

  “Ciao, Lorenzo.”

  He nodded and winked at me. “Let me get you the best in the house.”

  We were led into the tiny place to a back corner—the other tables were filled. I’d called ahead and made a reservation.

  Lorenzo and I went way back. My father had been Russian, but my mother had been Italian, and Dad never let me forget Mom or the heritage we shared. We came here often enough that we were on a first-name basis with the owner and the staff.

  Lorenzo held out her chair. Unsure of protocol, I waited until she sat before I took a seat. Lorenzo told us he’d be back with water and bread while we looked over the menu.

  “Wow, this is better than I thought.”

  “You know what they say: Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Though she still looked suspicious. Once she tasted the food, she would probably offer me her soul to bring her back here.

  I watched her peruse the menu. I already knew what I was going to have.

  “You know, staring at me is kind of creepy.”

  “Not from where I’m sitting.”

  She put her menu down. “I’m serious. Why are you staring? Do I have something on my teeth?”

  I’m staring because I want to kiss you before I fill that pretty mouth of yours with my cock. Then I want to bend you over this table and fuck you until you get that orgasm you want.

  “I’m curious what you’ll order and if I’m right,” I said instead.

  “You think you’ll know what I'll pick?”

  Her challenge was cute. Time to up the ante.

  “I dare you to try me,” I said.

  When her lips curved in amusement, I had her. Little did she know that I’d spotted her a few times in the café with anything Italian on her tray.

  “So you want to bet me?”

  I tapped my index and middle finger on the table as I spoke. “Call it what you want, but if I’m right, you’ll kiss me right here and right now.”

  She pointed to the menu. “Have you seen this? There is no way you can get this right.”

  I tilted my head and gave her a wicked grin. “Then what do you have to lose?”

  “Fine. But how will I know what you think I’ll order?”

  I snagged my phone from my pocket, typed, and then placed it flat on the table.

  “I’ll hit send after you order.”

  She angled her head, probably feeling pretty sure of herself. “Fine. You have your bet. But if I win, you can’t go out with anyone else for a week.”

  I cracked a smug smile. “You want me all to yourself.”

  The flickering candle between us spotlighted the delight on her face. There was something about this girl, and wanting to make her smile warned me I should back off. But I couldn’t help myself. It was as if I were spelled by her.

  “Don’t let your ego go to your head. A bet goes both ways. It would be interesting to watch you turn down every girl who approaches you for a week.”

  I cocked my head. “I turn down girls all the time.”

  Lorenzo approached. “What can I get you all tonight?” he asked, while placing water and bread on the table.

  She looked up and pointed as she spoke. “I’ll have the Shrimp Scampi.”

  Lorenzo turned to me. “The usual?” I nodded. “Filet Mignon with Risotto?” I nodded again. “Perfetto. Wine?”

  “Yes. Your best.”

  Wine wasn’t my normal drink, so I’d let Lorenzo choose. Megan gave her silent approval as well.

  Once he departed with our menus, Megan eyed my phone.

  I turned it over and woke it up. Then I hit send. Her phone buzzed and she stared at it in amazement.

  “How did you know?” Her eyes twinkled as she wondered if I was clairvoyant.

  “The few times it’s been on the menu in the café, you’ve gotten it.”

  “But how? …Wait. Are you watching me?”

  I could lie, but why? “Gorgeous girl walks in a room, all eyes are on her.”

  Though the lighting was dim, I spied her cheeks flush as she squirmed in her seat.

  “Now it’s your turn to pay up.”

  The whites of her eyes expanded. “You’re serious. Here with everyone watching?”

  I glanced around. The tables were fairly close considering the small space, but everyone was engrossed with their own conversations, not us.

  “Are you reneging?”

  Something about my dare put fire in her eyes.

  “Fine.”

  She scooted her chair back some, lifted that lovely ass of hers out it, and bent over the table toward me. I met her halfway, ready for her sweet mouth on mine.

  On contact I wanted more. When I cupped the back of her head, she gasped. I took advantage and snaked my tongue out to taste her. I was instantly hard. The need to have her in my bed grew with every second of our connection.

  Though I could feel eyes on us, I didn’t give a shit. Still, I let her go. She panted and sat, not looking at me. I knew she was just as affected as I was.

  The question was how I would keep my hands off her for the rest of the night.

  16

  megan

  It was such a bad idea. Kissing Gavin was like winning the lottery. I wanted to jump up and down, specifically on him. How was that even fair?

  He sat there with a half-smile as if he knew how wet I was from a kiss, no less. I was afraid to glance around. It had gotten quiet for a second. More than likely people had noticed our makeout session.

  “So what’s your senior project on?”

  Yeah great Megan, like that segue wasn’t obvious.

  His perfect brow lifted in question. I took my napkin and unfolded it in my lap. When I looked up, his tongue peeked between his teeth but didn’t go past his lips. I wanted to groan because that tongue was enchanted. It had spelled me from our first kiss.

  “I’m building an engine.” Although I was impressed, his next words floored me. “I’m creating a hydro engine for my car.”

  “Hydro? It runs on water?” His head bobbed. “Seriously? How is that even possible?”

  My eyes bugged out.

  “Anything’s possible. I did it for a science project back in middle school.”

  “You built a car engine in middle school?”

  Who was this guy?

  He chuckled. “Not a car engine. It was middle school. I built a hydro engine for a toy boat. One day, I hope to build one for my dad’s fishing boat.”

&n
bsp; “Wow, I’m super impressed. How close are you to completing?”

  “Close. The car moves. It’s not going to drive at eighty miles per hour or anything. But it will go. Right now it’s a hybrid and will need another source of power to turn over. But I hope to design solar panels in conjunction with the hydro to completely remove the need for nonrenewable resources.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “It’s a dream partly realized by Elon Musk.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “The founder of Tesla.”

  “Isn’t that the all-electric car?”

  He nodded and tapped the table with his hand. He’d done it before. I wondered if he had a nervous need to do that.

  “It’s more than that. It doesn’t use all the parts that other cars do, therefore creating a seamless design that isn’t wasteful and leaves a smaller footprint on the world.”

  “You sound passionate. Did you intern for them?”

  His head drifted side to side. “No, but I admire the man.”

  “You should apply. It sounds like they could use someone like you.”

  “Nah, they’ve already revolutionized the car. Besides, I’m going to work for my dad after college.”

  His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “There is nothing wrong with fishing, but something tells me you’d be wasted there.”

  He didn’t answer—just smoothly switched topics.

  “Tell me about your project and why I have to take off my clothes for it.”

  Did he just wink at me? And why was everything he did sexy? Focus, Megan.

  “I going to prove that sex sells.”

  His lips twitched and I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

  “What?” I said, trying to contain a giggle. “I have an ad campaign that will require a print model. I plan to use different models in the same ad and ask a test market of people their reactions to each. When I’m done, I plan to show that a sexier image will entice the potential buyer into paying more attention to the ad or convincing them the product is worth a buy.”

  He stared at me so intently, I felt like I was on the hot seat. As it was, I was already hot and bothered by him. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.

  “What theory do you have about my image?”

  Was he smirking? Of course he was. Damn him and his confidence. Whatever. I’d be honest anyway.

  “You’re the sex that sells.”

  “Am I, now?”

  Thank goodness for the waiter. He arrived with our food and I didn’t have to feed his ego anymore tonight. After our steaming plates were set before us, the man added, “Buon appetito.”

  As if he spoke fluent Italian, Gavin said, “Grazie, altrettanto.”

  “Grazie” I knew from hearing it on TV or elsewhere. That was “thank you” or something close. The other word, though, I had no idea. Our waiter nodded and left.

  The food was sinful it was so good.

  “Oh my god,” I said as another delicious bite hit my tongue.

  “If you keep moaning like that, we aren’t going to make it through dinner.”

  If my mouth wasn’t full I would have gaped and then reminded him that this night was not ending in sex no matter what my treacherous body wanted.

  Instead, I cast my eyes down and continued to eat. When dessert came, I knew I would have to spend a week on the treadmill to make up for all the calories I’d eaten, but it was so worth it.

  After our empty plates were taken away, I asked, “How’d you know about this place?”

  “I eat here a lot.”

  His answer was far too cryptic and piqued my interest.

  “Yeah, but how did you find it? This strip mall doesn’t exactly scream fine dining.”

  And that was just what this experience had been.

  “I’ve been coming for years. My dad and I eat here a lot.”

  I sat up straight. “You live around here?”

  Okay, his dad was a fisherman and the bay was right here. But I didn’t think he was a local.

  “I’ve lived around here all of my life.”

  Unfortunately, the interruption from the check arriving wasn’t perfect timing this time around. He put a wad of bills in the small leather binder after only giving it a cursory glance. Then he was up and helping me out of my chair. I hadn’t pegged him for the gentleman type, but he was doing a good job of convincing me otherwise.

  Out in the night, a few people hung at the end of the building. I wasn’t scared, but it did reinforce to me that we weren’t exactly in Georgetown in D.C. where the posh people lived.

  Though I’d expected him to open the truck door when we came close, instead he backed me into it.

  “That kiss inside didn’t count. I’m claiming my winnings now.”

  He didn’t give me a chance to protest. His hand was in my hair, angling me up to meet his hungry mouth. The wine and steak on his tongue only added to the experience. He tasted like he was heaven sent. And as cheesy as it sounded in my head, I swear I heard angels singing in the background.

  A deep chuckle resonated, and for a second I assumed it was Gavin. Though he’d had to be a ventriloquist to pull it off considering his tongue was still in my mouth.

  “My, my, my.”

  Gavin’s unreadable eyes met mine. He pulled back and looked annoyed. He turned, blocking my view.

  “Jimmy.”

  “Didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

  “I didn’t think you came out of hibernation in the winter.”

  “Funny guy. He’s a funny guy—right, Dave?”

  I stepped to the side to see around Gavin. A barrel of a man, who could have been an extra in any mobster movie ever made, stood next to another guy who, in the dim light, could have been his twin.

  “Let’s go,” Gavin said.

  When he clamped onto my arm, I realized he was talking to me. He had the door opened to his truck in record time.

  Before he shut it, the big man said, “Didn’t think you were the dating type.”

  “It isn’t a date,” I heard just before the door slammed shut. His next words were muffled. “She’s just a girl from school. A project.”

  My stomach sank. But he moved farther away and I didn’t hear the rest. What had he meant by that? A project? I wanted to think he meant we were working on a project together—mine. But the way he’d said it sounded more like I was a hookup. And hadn’t he already warned me that’s all I could ever be?

  I pulled out my phone and checked for texts, something to keep my mind from wandering. His door opened and I jumped, not expecting him back so quickly. He didn’t speak to me—only turned the truck on and pulled out as if he was in a hurry.

  We rode in silence to my dorm. Once he stopped, I fumbled for the latch on the car door. A perfect night had ended in shattered dreams. Why had I let my heart think that maybe he’d wanted to get to know me more than for just a one-night stand?

  “Megan.”

  His hand landed on my shoulder, and I realized I was shaking. I forced myself to still and turn to face him.

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  The old me would have smiled and accepted his apology. But I was done with nice Megan. I was done with guys thinking they could walk all over me. …No, more like I was done letting them.

  “Sorry for what?” I snapped.

  “Back there. I…” He paused. “I wouldn’t have taken you there if I thought…”

  “Thought what? The truth: that your entire plan was to get in my pants.”

  He fish-mouthed for a second. “Look, I never lied to you.” He stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “This was a bad idea.”

  “Bad idea! That’s an understatement. Here I thought maybe you weren’t the asshole you made yourself out to be.”

  He ran a hand over his hair and blew out a breath.

  “Look, this was a mistake. I told you before I don’t do girlfriends.”

  “And I’m not going to do y
ou. So we’re even. But don’t think you’re getting out of taking pictures for me.”

  Pissed didn’t even cover what I felt. An indignant rage where I wanted to truly curse coursed through me.

  He actually smirked at me. “You mean where I take off my clothes for you.”

  I glared at him and jabbed a finger in his direction.

  “This isn’t remotely funny. When I contact you, I expect you on time and without complaint. Meanwhile, when you’ve realized what an asshole you’ve been, you can call and apologize to me. Maybe I’ll forgive you.” His eyes widened. “Yeah, I said it. Asshole, asshole, asshole.”

  I got the door opened and bolted out, not bothering to close it. He had to be still watching me stomp away because I didn’t hear it shut before I disappeared under the archway that led to the courtyard of my dorm.

  17

  gavin

  Slamming my fist into the steering wheel did nothing to allay my anger. Though the parking lot to my dorm was a short distance away from Megan’s, I kept going. My fury over everything had only one possible outlet.

  A short time later, I parked in the alley and knocked on the metal door.

  A bouncer, a friend of my dad’s, opened it. He spoke in his native tongue. “Your father know?”

  I understood Russian like I did English. My father had spoken it to me for as long as I could remember. My Italian was reinforced by Lorenzo and his kin at the restaurant.

  “I’m not here for my father. I’m here for me,” I said in Russian.

  Holding up my balled hand convinced him of my intentions. My father's attempts to save me were far too late.

  The big guy opened the door further so I could step inside. He took in the alley before shutting us in.

  A man with a voice like a megaphone stood in the center ring asking for challengers. I reached for the hem of my shirt as I strode forward, whipping it off before I climbed up and under the ropes. I left my shirt on the edge somewhere just outside of the ring. My opponent grinned.

  He was overconfident because of his size. I wasn’t afraid just because he was inches taller than my six-foot frame or he was bulkier, with muscles twice the size of mine. I couldn’t bench press him, but I could lift a guy my weight. Plus, this guy was a lot older if his bald head and the fine lines around his eyes were any indication. I would use youth and my lighter weight to my advantage.