“So you’ve filled it with what?”
“Things,” he grins. “Ideas. Thoughts.”
The waitress comes in again and sets a plate of food in front of each of us, refills our glasses, and disappears.
The moonlight shines behind Lincoln, almost illuminating him. A cool breeze trickles in through the open glass doors, yet we’re not cold. I’m not sure if it’s from the excitement of being with him or if there’s a heater somewhere. Either way, it’s so comfortable, so cozy tucked in this little room that I don’t want to leave. I just want to sit here and stare at this handsome man.
He slices through his steak, spearing a piece. “Want to try it?”
I don’t really want to, but I’m not turning down the opportunity for him to feed me. “Sure,” I say, opening my mouth a touch and leaning forward. He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing as the fork extends over the candles in the center.
My lips wrap around the silverware, my eyes focused on his. His pupils dilate as I pull back slowly, running my tongue along the bottom of my lip.
“Keep it up,” he warns, resting his fork on the side of his plate.
“And what?”
“And we will jump to dessert right here, right now.”
The authority in his tone goes right to the apex of my thighs. I can feel my muscles pull together, my panties dampening. “Promise?”
He pulls his lip between his teeth, chuckling mischievously. “Careful what you wish for, babe.”
“I’m pretty certain I know exactly what I’m wishing for,” I say, taunting him. “It involves your tongue running up my—”
“Stop,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Even if we leave now, it’ll take ten minutes to deal with the check, and I’m going to need to get you out of here in way less than that.”
Smiling, I spear a tomato and bring it to my lips. “I’d call for the check now then.”
“Damn you, woman,” he says, jumping to his feet. The door opens and shuts behind me, and for the first time since walking in this room, I take a long, deep breath.
I both know what’s coming and have no idea what’s coming. Where will we go? What will he do? All I know is that I want the answers to both those questions. And if it fucks me in the long run, so be it. I just need fucked right now.
The sound of the door opening rolls thr
ough the room and his hands are on my shoulders. “Let’s go.”
“You paid that fast?”
“Fuck yeah, I did. Want to follow me to my house or just ride with me?”
Getting to my feet and grabbing the vase, I look at the most dazzling man I’ve ever seen. “I’ll be riding enough later. I’ll follow you.”
Lincoln
“Slow down,” I remind myself. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I see her puttering behind me as slow as molasses. I can’t help but laugh at her little law abiding self.
My fingers tap against the steering wheel as I hum a along with the radio. I have a rule about bringing girls to my house. I simply don’t do it. I go to theirs or get a hotel room because you never know what’s going to go down after it goes down. But the thought of having Dani in my house seems right.
I’m scared as fuck. I’ve had relationships before. Serious ones, even. I’m good at them, if I do say so myself. My mom and sisters taught me a thing or two about girls. Even with my past girlfriends, I’ve never felt like this. Before, they did their thing and I did mine. I’d send flowers when I needed to or make sure they had a cute dress to wear to an event, but that was it. There was no desire to actually get to know them. As a matter of fact, I’m not sure there was much about them to know.
Dani is not that way. She makes it easier to be with her than to be without her. She’s not needy and I love that. She asks about things, but not like she’s digging for information. It’s like she actually gives a fuck.
We’ve talked late into the night every night this week and when we hang up, I want to call her right back. I tell her stories about my brothers and sisters and growing up in Savannah. She tells me stories about volunteering at a children’s hospital in college and how she hopes to do something bigger with her life than just a nine-to-five.
I love that. I respect that. I admire that.
I admire her.