“You’re not hungry, are you?”
Tola asked Mofe, with such an impulse even she couldn’t understand.
A part of her wanted him to stay, but she still had to scold him. She needed to teach him some lessons, even if it meant going about it the hard way.
She was looking at him and he could see the refusal gathering in her eyes.
Whatever common sense he possessed flew right out through the open space between his ears. If there was any way he was going to get a chance to spend some time in her company, he’d take it. “I’m starving!” he replied promptly, and he could just see a smile run across her pretty face.
“Come in, then,” she said, breaking the eye contact and looking away.
She thought about him a lot, even though she hated to admit it. He was good-looking, and he had this dimple right at the bottom of his chin that became more pronounced when he smiled or laughed. He seemed very nice… and decent. And decent guys don’t come by all frequently in life.
A cold shiver ran down her spine just thinking about him, fantasizing. His hands were warm and gentle. He was slightly taller than she was, and he had this killer look in his eyes like a cat’s, mesmerising his prey, the powerful gaze piercing and direct, ferreting out every secret she thought she had hidden.
She could invite him upstairs and sleep in the real comfort of feeling those arms around her. Feeling excitement that was raw and seductive and exhilarating. Carnal and lusty and sensual, hot, slicky, vibrant…