Chapter 2 2

Nina's POV

His voice was exactly what I expected-deep, commanding, with a timbre that sent a shiver down my spine. If it had been high-pitched, I probably would've run to the bathroom to laugh myself breathless. But no, fate had to play a cruel joke on me by giving this man a voice that could make a nun rethink her vows.

My breath hitched. Heat spread through me, curling around my senses, making my pulse race. No, no, no. I had a boyfriend. A perfectly decent, loving boyfriend. I clenched my fists, forcing my body to ignore the involuntary reaction to this man's presence.

I glanced around, hoping praying that he wasn't speaking to me. But there was no one else. No escape.

"Umm... me?" I pointed at myself, my voice barely steady.

"Yes." His confidence was unshakable, his gaze sharp. He rubbed the back of his neck, the motion causing his shirt to shift just enough for me to catch sight of something silver at his throat-a ring, strung on a black cord, resting against his skin. Simple. Elegant. Infuriatingly beautiful, just like the man wearing it.

I swallowed hard as he studied me. "Can I help you?" I asked, attempting to sound unaffected.

"I see you here often," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. His stance was casual, but something about him radiated intensity. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out sometime."

A date? With him?

My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could hear it. I had been admired before, approached before, but never by someone like him. He was the kind of man who turned heads, the kind who didn't have to ask-he simply had to exist.

And yet, he was asking me.

I blinked. "But... we're outside."

Smooth, Nina. Very smooth.

A slow, amused smile curved his lips, revealing a single deep dimple. A dimple? As if the universe hadn't already made him dangerously attractive.

"How about a real date?" he asked, his voice dipping lower, rougher.

"I don't eat that fruit."

He stilled. "What?"

"Dates," I clarified, my nerves twisting into a chaotic mess. "They hurt my teeth."

He blinked once, twice-then let out a deep, rumbling laugh that sent another illicit shiver down my spine. "Too sweet for you?"

You're too sweet for me, Mister Perfect.

"Yes, way too sweet," I said, forcing a breath. "Do you like eating dates?"

His lips quirked. "I don't need them. Looking at your sweet self already gives me cavities."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes to mask the heat creeping up my neck. "Corny much?"

He smirked. "Not exactly smooth, huh?"

"Ever consider going to the library?"

He tilted his head. "For what?"

"There's a book called Flirting for Dummies."

The way his smirk deepened made my stomach tighten. "Alright," he murmured, stepping closer.

The scent of him-something dark and rich, like sandalwood and whiskey-wrapped around me, making it impossible to focus.

"You know," he said, "dates have their benefits."

"Such as?" I managed, barely.

"Hm." He took another step, the space between us shrinking. "They aid in hangovers, reduce the risk of certain cancers, and boost energy."

I swallowed. "Every fruit does that."

"Not like this one," he countered. "Dates are known to boost sexual energy."

My breath caught. "Strawberries can do the same thing."

He leaned in, his gaze locking onto mine. "You like strawberries?"

"I love strawberries."

"Plain?"

"No. With chocolate."

His lips curved into a sinful smile. "What about whipped cream?"

A million inappropriate thoughts crashed through my brain at once. "I like them on my strawberries too."

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, his voice dangerously low. "I prefer them on something else."

My throat dried. I should've walked away. I should've reminded myself-I have a boyfriend.

But I didn't move.

He raised a finger, motioning for me to come closer. And like a fool, I did. His thigh brushed mine as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his breath ghosting over my skin.

"Ice cream," he whispered.

I burst into laughter, shoving him back. "Oh, of course! How foolish of me to forget such an important dessert."

He ran a hand through his tousled hair, his smile laced with something deeper. Something dangerous.

"I'm not really a fruit guy," he admitted.

I arched a brow. "What kind of guy are you?"

He stepped in close, closer than before, his presence overwhelming. "More of a seafood kind of guy."

"Oh really? What's your favorite type of seafood?"

His voice dipped, his lips brushing dangerously close to my ear. "Oysters."

I sucked in a breath, my mind short-circuiting.

"You know," he continued, "there's a method to eating oysters."

My throat went dry. "I-I didn't know that."

"Most people don't." His fingers ghosted over mine, sending a jolt straight through me. "You can't just eat it. You have to prepare it. Savor it. Drink the juice, consume it slowly, like it's your last."

The air between us tightened, charged with something electric, something unspoken. My knees felt weak. I needed to leave. Now.

"I-I have a boyfriend!" I blurted, stumbling back, my heart slamming against my ribs.

His expression flickered-something unreadable passing through those icy blue eyes before he masked it. He started to say something, but my phone rang, saving me from my own damnation.

"I have to go," I muttered, barely able to meet his gaze.

He watched me, silent, as I turned and left, my pulse a chaotic mess.

As I reached my car, I glanced back-just once. He stood there, his friend laughing beside him, but his gaze was locked on me. A single step forward, hesitation, then he pulled back.

I tore my gaze away, forcing myself to breathe.

I had a boyfriend. This was wrong.

So why did it feel like the most exhilarating thing that had ever happened to me?