Free Conquer Your Love by J. C. Reed Page B

presence. Jett guided me to
my chair and held it for me. I slid into the seat, whispering a thank you. He
sat down opposite from me and then we were gazing at each other again, soaking
in each other’s presence over the small table—the way we had ever since
our fateful meeting in a club, which wasn’t quite as accidental as I initially
thought.
    “What can I get you to drink?” the waiter asked, startling me.
    “Champagne,” Jett said.
    “For me water, please.”
    Jett raised a puzzled brow, but didn’t comment.
    “Why champagne?” I asked him as soon as the waiter had left to get our
order. ”Are you trying to get me drunk?”
    “We both know I don’t take advantage of a drunken woman, even though
I’ve got to admit it’s nice to hear all the little things that come out of your
sexy mouth. You know, the things I don’t get to hear when you’re sober.”
    The telltale heat of a blush rushed to my face. Jett had seen me drunk
at least twice. Every time he made sure I got home safely, and every time I
told him, in my drunken state, how much I wanted him. It seemed like my
subconscious was programmed to reveal the truth regarding how I felt about
him—whether I wanted it, or not.
    “I have sworn off alcohol.” I watched him take a thin bread stick and
break it into two, then hand me one while he kept the other half. “Thanks,” I
mumbled, nibbling on one end. “It makes me say stupid things I don’t mean.”
    He snorted as he took a bite. “I doubt that.”
    For some reason, his statement annoyed me. Probably,
because he was right. Yet, it brought up an issue that had me occupied
for longer than I cared to admit.
    “Why did you lie to me, Jett?”
    He hesitated, avoiding my gaze. A moment later the waiter appeared with
a trolley carrying our drinks and various dishes. He set the drinks in front of
us and wished us “ Buon appetite,” and then he was
gone again.
    “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I ordered everything on the menu,”
Jett said, not answering my question. I tried to ignore the various delicacies
on the trolley, which was hard because everything—including
Jett—looked so delicious. My stomach rumbled , reminding me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
    I watched him pile a little of everything onto a plate before handing it
to me. I took it from him but didn’t touch the food.
    He noticed me watching him and sighed. I began to tap my foot
impatiently, asking the obvious question with a mere raise of my eyebrows.
    “I know you want answers but can we eat first?” He pointed at my plate.
I eyed the food as I contemplated whether to give in to his plea, or remain
stubborn in my decision to get this over and done with.
    “Please. I’ll explain later,” Jett said slowly,
his electrifying eyes piercing a hole into my soul.
    There was something in his voice: hope that we wouldn’t end up fighting.
Hope to avoid the inevitable—the countless questions demanding honest
answers. Whatever those answers were, I had a nagging feeling I’d need a strong
stomach to deal with them, so I grabbed my fork and popped a cube of white
cheese into my mouth, chewing slowly. It tasted delicious, of fresh milk and
herbs. I took another one, followed by what looked like a meatball tasting of
peppers and olives.
    I looked up when he lifted his fork and helped himself—from the
same plate. The gesture was so intimate it made my heart skip a beat.
    Too intimate.
    It wasn’t what two strangers did.
    “You’re damn sexy when you eat,” Jett whispered. “I’m glad you’re not
one of those anorexic girls on a diet.”
    I almost choked on my bite but continued to eat as if we were having a
business conversation. “I don’t believe in diets.”
    He smiled. “It’s not just your attitude I like. I love the way you get
lost in every new sensation. You show the same passion when you’re under me.”
    Good gracious.
    Red flags began to flash somewhere in the back of my mind. He was
beginning to flirt