Fool for Love (Believe #2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

he doesn’t have a room available for me like I’d thought. I’m guessing that I’ll just have to stay at the hotel for a while”.
    We sit in awkward silence for a long time, looking anywhere else but each other. I berate myself for being unable to put on the polite show I’m so used to at my restaurant.
    It must be the hangover. It can’t possibly be because of her .
    I’m usually comfortable with silence, but this one is hard to take.
    For fuck’s sake, man, get a grip!
    “Listen,” Suzy suddenly stands and crosses her arms in front of her. “This is ridiculous. I’ll sleep on the pull-out couch for the rest of my stay, and you’ll get your bed back.”
    I don’t like this plan.
    “That doesn’t seem right.” I stand up and take a step closer. I try to relax, but I’m coiled so tight that it’s impossible. All I can think about is what it would be like to have her submit to me, which is so fucked up.
    “Why not? This is your home, after all.” There’s a spark of defiance in her eyes, and I have to admit that I prefer seeing her like this instead of the shy mouse I just encountered. I may want my women to submit to me sexually, but not all the time, and definitely not this one. Probably because there’s no way in hell I’ll ever let that happen.
    Not until hell freezes over, anyway.
    However, I have to say that I’m curious to find out how stubborn she’ll be for pressing this matter, and it makes me eager to push her buttons for some fucked up reason. It’s a heady feeling – and a surprising one.
    For fifteen years, I have felt dead inside; yet, it has only taken this young woman a few hours to make me feel anything remotely resembling life. My heart is hammering away in my chest, and anticipation is running through my blood.
    Suzy intrigues me. While I refuse to succumb to my needs with her, I can at least try to become her friend and watch out for her for the next few months.
    I can be her friend, can’t I?
    “Okay,” I sigh and force my body to relax. “I’m not letting you sleep on the pull-out.”
    “But –”
    “Not. Going. To. Happen,” I interrupt her, my voice brooking no arguments. She must see that I’m not backing off on this, because she nods slowly and her arms fall down to her side.
    I bite my tongue before praising her for her acquiescing.
    “Good. Now, secondly…” I pause as her body tenses up again, and I can’t quite understand why I feel nervous all of a sudden. “How do you feel about dogs?” I ask her.
    She blinks, confusion clear as day in her eyes. “Dogs?”

 
    G ARRETT’S QUESTION THROWS ME for a minute.
    I love dogs even though I’ve never had one, and I smile brightly at him.
    “I adore them!”
    He chuckles, a deep rumble resounding from his chest, and I have to work hard not to swoon at his feet then and there. His cold eyes now hold some warmth in them, and the tension in my shoulders slowly ebbs.
    Damn. He just has to have a dog, doesn’t he?
    “Good. Because I have one, a brown Labrador, and I’m picking him up from my friend’s place tomorrow,” he says, walking past me when the doorbell rings.
    “It must be my bags,” he mumbles.
    I’m slowly becoming more at ease while in Garrett’s presence, even though I only just met him this afternoon – I mean, a dog lover can’t be that bad.
    I walk leisurely to the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge.
    While Garrett talks to the guy from the airport, I watch him from the corner of my eye. My curiosity is piqued, and I want to get to know him better. Safiro was a fountain of information as usual, but the way the tabloids write about the recluse that is otherwise known as the renowned Italian cook, Garrett Thompson, doesn’t really seem to fit the man in front of me. While he’s still virtually a stranger, I haven’t seen the confident player that he’s made out to be – that is, when he ever finds the chance to get out of his restaurant downtown.
    Mysterious.