Dazed

Allan’s fork halted at his mouth when he heard her groan. He looked up. Her eyes were closed as she pulled the fork out of her mouth with a sweet sigh. She’d done that with every dish she’d sampled that day, and it was getting damn difficult not to drag her back to the hotel. They almost didn’t make it out when he saw her in that short white dress—thank you Wilma—her damp curly hair free around her shoulders.

 He noticed she didn’t wear makeup except for lip gloss and he liked that about her. It made him realize the only reason he’d liked his women dressed to perfection from the hair on their heads to the nails on their toes was because he’d liked having a trophy on his arm.

But Riana was no trophy. She was something else. Something much better. He just didn’t know what exactly. He hadn’t put his finger on it yet.

She picked up a meatball with her tiny fingers and lifted it to her mouth. Her