Take Me (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 4

a/n: sorry for the long wait.

I glared crossly at the plate of salad served in front of me. I'm hungry but I don't have the appetite to feast on the different dishes sitting mouthwateringly on top of the round mahogany table.

"You have to eat, Ronnie." The beast from the opposite side of the table said. I refused to look at him. I refused to talk to him. I refuse to be involve with him, God help me.

I've been ignoring Seymour for the past three hours we've been here in, what I've learned is, his own rest house here in the west coast beach. The fuck, how old is he again? How come he has his own beach house?

When he dropped the 'Welcome home, baby' spiel, all he received from me was a pair of what seemed like deadly glare and offended scowl. I don't know how that looked like but the hell I care! I pushed him irately and went pass him towards the barely reaching my midthighs pallid wooden fence of the two story house. Since it seemed locked and deserted, I waited at the porch, crossing my arms across my chest and tapping my left foot impatiently at him.

With what appeared to be like a heavy heart, he walked towards me with a stern look on his face, his jaw muscles tightening and his eyes dark and feral. He looks angry but who cares?! I am angry too! I am damn furious because he's been acting all man on me now like he own me or something just because what? Just because he was my first?! What are we in? Fucking renaissance?!

"For God's sake, Veronica, eat your damn food! Or do you want me feed you instead?" he growled across the table. I almost jumped off my skin with his dangerous menacing voice but since I remembered I was also mad at him, I just glared back.

For what seemed like eternity of fighting stares with him, I gritted my teeth and talk back. "I don't want to eat! I'm not hungry!" I know it isn't very regal for a girl, or generally for everyone, to scream and start a fight in front of dinner but I just can't help it! I am so mad! I feel like his manhandling me just because he thought he can! Well let me tell him this, not because he had brought me here effortlessly I would already give into his caprices in just a whim. Bite me first.

But to hell with perfect timing! Fate seemed to be favoring this manipulative beast in front of me because right after I gave the bratty I'm-not-hungry dramatic line I've been saving, nothing else followed but a deafening silence between us and a resounding growl from my stomach.

I inwardly cursed to myself. As the end of his luscious lips curl into a lazy smile, I feel ten times of summer heat crawling onto my neck up to my cheeks.

I avoided gazes and muttered different expletives to myself. I still don't wanna eat. Aside from the fact that I've come with him without giving a fair fight, I also can't accept another fact that he knows more how to cook than of me. Damn, I almost burnt our old home eight months ago.

For whatever it costs, I heard him sigh in defeat and reached for his glass of wine.

"I just want us to talk, Ronnie." He said his voice low and resigned, like what we've been doing is tiring him. The hell, I never told him to prepare for a banquet especially just for the two of us. For goodness gracious, I'm fine with some Chinese takeout; I'm not particularly picky with food.