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“Oh, shut up,” she smiles, her cheeks blushing pink. “I was just emotional because you gave me that book.”
“Did you like it?”
“Yes…” she whispers. “I think it’s made me like reading again.”
Taking a big step towards her, I grab Sophia’s waist and pull her in close to me. The heat of her body threatens to make me hard. Fucking hell, I really did miss her body.
“What else do you like?” I smirk, pressing my growing bulge into her belly.
“That depends on how dinner goes,” she teases right back.
Her words only send a warm wave washing through me.
This is more like it. This is the girl I came rushing back here to see. This is the girl I set this dinner up for. This is the girl I was willing to risk my life for, not once, but fucking twice.
I’ve killed for this girl, and I’m willing to do it again.
… But so are a thousand other men.
That’s why I need to know if I can truly trust her. I need to know if I actually have her heart, or if I’m just imagining things.
My beef with Castor is bigger than my foolish pride or my stubborn envy. If I can trust Sophia, then maybe we can end this madness together.
Hell, maybe I’d even rethink that marriage pact…
Maybe.
It all depends on how dinner goes.
27
Sophia
“Are you sure I can’t go change?”
“Why would you do that?” Leo asks, his gorgeous face flickering in the candlelight like a vision. “You’ve already got a nice sundress on. Hell, is that makeup I see, too?”
For what feels like the hundredth time since Leo returned just a couple of hours ago, I blush. What the hell’s gotten into him?
I mean, he’s actually being… charming.
“I only put this on in a hurry when I saw the caterers setting up. I thought people were coming over. Maeve wouldn’t give me any hints. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen other people?”
“I know exactly how long it’s been,” Leo smirks, his dimples even deeper in the candlelight. “Are you saying that you think you could look better than this?”
“I could always look better…”
“No,” Leo says. Shaking his head, he leans across the table and takes my hand. “You can’t improve on perfection.”
I can hardly take it anymore. His touch. His words. The look in his eyes. It’s all so overwhelming.
“Ok, what’s gotten into you?” I ask, letting my hand sink in between his two giant palms.
Beside us, a table big enough for a dozen dinner guests sits unused. We’ve set up shop at a smaller round table nearby, surrounded by vanilla-scented candles whose light is slowly replacing the setting sun.
“Maybe I missed you,” Leo shrugs, trying to play it cool.
My heart flutters. “Really? You missed me?”
