Dinner And Argument

ROXANNE 

His tongue invaded my parted lips, clashing with my own tongue and establishing dominance. 

A moan slipped through my mouth, my body urging to press into his perfectly fit one. 

"Oh." A small moan emitted when his fingers snaked into the thick strands of my hair, caressing my scalp and tugging firmly from the root. 

Subconsciously, my arms lifted of their own and locked around his neck. 

I've never been kissed like this before. Not that I could remember. I'd enjoyed kissing Josh, but this was...different. I should be pushing him away, he was all shades of wrong and forbidden.

But my God, with all the warning bells going off in a ringing session in my head, I couldn't bring myself to pull way. 

His mouth dominated — rough even — yet there was a degree of subtle tenderness that propelled me to become a total mess in his arms. 

"Oh fuck, you're so sweet..." He murmured, voice dripped low and intense, almost like a powerful engine roaring arrogantly to life. 

It sent shivers down my spine, especially when his mouth left my mine, and began to trail kisses down the skin on my neck. 

"Sweeter than all the women I've been with. Fuck," his nibbled my ear.

His words permeated the seduced part of my brain and alerted it. 

My eyes widened. Repulsion immediately replacing budding desire, I pushed him away.

Anger and shame aimed at myself reared its head as though mocking me. 

He blinked, looking slightly confused, his forest green eyes that had darkened in lust searched my face, "is something wrong?"

The microwave dinged before I could get a word out, even though I hardly knew what to say in the moment.

He went to get out our dinner, plating it while I scolded myself for falling for his stupid seduction. It didn't matter if he knew how to make a woman want more with just his lips or that he looked like a Mafia god — rough, unbelievably attractive with a touch of arrogance he liked to conceal under confidence. 

He was exactly the kind of man ladies would go after and here I was, kissing him while he admitted to have been with a lot of women. 

I'd make sure this never happened again. I didn't care whatever this was, I wouldn't let myself be among his list of women. 

I wasn't here because I wanted to be. I was here because I didn't want Josh to think he had the right to dictate how I lived my life. 

And I wouldn't let it be the biggest mistake of my life. Not tonight. 

After tonight, I'd never see him again. 

"Let's head upstairs." He carried our dinner and bottle of wine with the two glasses on a big tray and led the way out of the kitchen. 

Making a strong resolve on my decision, I followed him, trying not to see how his back muscles rippled beneath his shirt.

Quietly, with only the sound of our shoes slapping softly against clean, tiled floor, we reached the top of the stairs.

Damn! Whoever had built this house knew what they were doing. 

It was the same gold and white decor, but it had a wide hallway with rooms surrounding the gold U-shaped railings with a demarcation in the middle where one could stand holding the railings to see below other floors. 

We walked down the left side, passing all closed doors till we got to the end and he rounded a corner. 

There was an open space. A living room actually.

Another living room in the house. Nice. 

"Have your seat." 

He turned on the TV, changed the channel to a 90's TV rom-com series that I also loved. 

In silence, we dug into dinner. He poured us wine. We watched and laughed. I even teared up a little at an emotional scene. 

"A sucker for love, huh?" He stared at me, a hint of amusement twinkling in his green orbs.

"Love is beautiful." I replied defensively, his tone rubbing me off the wrong way.

"Mm." 

That vague response made me realize he didn't believe in love. Boy oh boy, why wasn't I surprised!

"I don't expect you to understand. Seeing as you are such a ladies' man." I took a sip of my wine, enjoying the chilliness contrast deliciously with the warm, spiciness of the food. 

"You know, you keep throwing the words 'playboy' and 'ladies' man' in my face, yet you have no evidence of me being that." He said, then took a bite of his chicken.

"Aren't you? I mean, your kind is not that hard to pick out." I shrugged. 

He paid me a brief glance, then looked away, saying nothing. 

A five second silence.

Then he broke it, "was that why you pulled away from the kiss?"

"Isn't that the sensible thing to do?" A brow quirked, sassiness edging my tone. 

"Oh. So where was this sense for the past five years?"

My brow straightened back in place, sassiness gave way for another emotion to spearhead. My appetite for dinner going down some, "what do you mean?"

"You stayed married to my brother for five years and you let him walk all over you. I wasn't in the picture, I'm too observant and attentive to never miss details. That night at the party was enough to give me insight on your life behind the scenes."

His tone carried not insult, but fact. 

However, it made me feel stupid and insignificant. It made me remember how truly stupid I'd been for the past five years — and even now because I still harbored feelings for his brother. 

Tears welled, "fuck you."

"Be my guest." He replied in an annoyingly calm tone. 

His plate of dinner was now empty. He picked up paper towels from the table to clean his fingers. Then picked up his wine to drink. 

I dropped my plate still half filled with dinner on the table, losing my appetite completely. I also wiped my hand on paper towels, then I stood. 

I drew in a breath, giving myself a mental warning to keep a steady voice and expression, "I want to go home." 

"Sit down." The order in his voice was unmistakable.

The jerk! I picked my glass and flung the remaining red content at him. "You will not tell me what to do, you bastard!"

His eyes roamed the shirt I'd just ruined with wine, then back at me. His expression surprised me — he was amused. 

Not even an iota of anger was lurking in his gaze. 

"You know, you should be thanking me for coming into the picture, Roxanne."