Page 73 of Sweet Madness
Ella traded her soft pink pajamas for a short denim skirt and a white and pink bustier that hugs her small waist and reveals way too much cleavage. Fuck me, she looks stunning. So much so that I’m having trouble keeping my eyes away from her chest.
Gorgeous and so addicting.
I can’t get enough of her, and I’ve only had one taste of her lips. It took only one taste of her for me to fantasize about her soft and plump lips day and night. Not just her lips, but other parts too.
A local walks in just as I’m busy ogling my client slash friend slash date tonight. I notice Ella’s cheeks flush bright red when the guy offers her a warm and gentlemanly greeting. I shoot him a look. He’s a younger guy, handsome, clean-cut, and he’s smiling invitingly at my girl.
My girl.
Shit.
When did I start thinking of Ellaiza Kenton as my girl?
My hand tightens around my fork as the young guy wanders off, still looking at Ella over his shoulder with a too-friendly smile on his face. Sensing my icy stare, his eyes meet mine, and he quickly looks away. I turn toward Ella and see her looking back down at her plate, her pretty cheeks still flushed. “Damn, you don’t half blush, do you?” I mutter, feeling annoyed and something else—something I’d rather not admit.
“You’re jealous,” she points out, sounding pleased with the idea.
I scoff. “I am not.”
Yes. Yes, I fucking am.
“Sure, you aren’t,” she teases, wiggling her dark brows comically.
I try my best to suppress a smile.
I failed.
“Oh, damn. There goes my heart,” the little tease fans her face and bats her pretty eyelashes at me. “One day, your smiles will be the death of me, Shaw Bear. I just know it.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I murmur.
“And yet, here you are with me, smiling all the same.” She laughs, her eyes sparkling like twin stars.
My goddamn heart squeezes in my chest.
I can almost hear the pounding of my own heart, if that’s even possible.
Ella’s face softens as she looks back at me. Do you see me, princess? Every broken piece?
The moment is broken by the friendly interruption of a waitress. “Hi there, folks! Ready to order?” the older lady asks cheerfully, her pen poised above her notepad, ready to jot down our order.
I force myself to look away from the too-damn-tempting heiress and glance at the menu briefly. Then I opt for the meal I used to enjoy every Friday night when I was younger. Yes, because I’m a fucking masochist. “I’ll have the Super Galactic Bacon Burger with a side of onion rings and a beer,” I say.
I look at Ella, ready to help her with her order when she follows suit. “I’ll go with the Cosmic Chicken Fried Steak, mashed potatoes heavy on the gravy, and a strawberry shake with extra whipped cream, please,” she says, her eyes meeting the waitress with her usual friendly smile.
At that moment, I realized something… I’m jealous of anyone who gets to see her smile, even if it’s just a friendly older waitress.
The waitress, Norma, notes down our orders quickly, her demeanor embodying the charming western hospitality I am always lacking. “You got it, sugar. Coming right up!” she assures us before disappearing into the bustling kitchen.
As we wait for our meals to arrive, I lean back with a relaxed sigh, feeling more at ease than I had anticipated.
I watch as Ella pulls a pen from her small purse and begins doodling on her napkin. She’s drawing tiny dots connected by thin lines—constellations.
This girl is a mystery—an endearing one.
“Hey, Shaw,” she murmurs without looking up from her drawing. I grin at how adorable she looks hunched over in the booth, doodling on a napkin.
“Yes?” I ask, my gaze fixed on her drawing. I watch in amazement as she continues adding more constellations and tiny planets. It’s clear she’s creating a galaxy.