I lick my lips. “I do like it.”
“Knew you would. You were staring.”
“I wasn’t staring.” Okay, I was staring. But not for the reason he thinks.
He nods yeah, you were. “You can’t admit it now. Can’t admit what you want.”
I swallow hard.
“Why is that?”
“It just is.” There are too many asterisks. I want some chocolate. But only a little. Not enough to push my thoughts to uncomfortable places.
He arches a brow. “You don’t have to tell me. But if you really do want less shit weighing you down, you should admit it to yourself.”
“Are you a therapist?”
“Do I sound like one?” Horror streaks his expression. “Should I encourage more bad behavior?”
“Definitely.” My lips curl into a smile. “Drunken orgies.”
“You’d run a million miles from a drunken orgy.” His smile spreads. “But nice try.” He turns back to the samples. “You like dark or light?”
“Dark.” I used to daydream about it. It used to consume my mind. Wanting. Trying not to want.
Now, I’m trying to want.
Trying to be okay with wanting.
Trying to be okay with enjoying.
He picks up a piece of sixty percent. Offers it to me.
I part my lips.
Again, he places it on my tongue.
This time, I close my eyes immediately. Focus on the flavor.
“You like it?” he asks.
I nod. Mmm. This one is better. Sweet but not too sweet. I can taste the notes of cherry. The rich nuttiness. “A lot.”
“Doesn’t sound like it.”
“Should I groan over it?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“Really?”
“No. You’ll make me hard.”
My blush deepens.
“Fuck. Shouldn’t have said that.”
“But you—”
“You should do something to express your pleasure. It doesn’t have to be a groan.”
I chew. Swallow. Look him in the eyes. “Is that what you do?”
“I don’t think about it.”
“You’re not… making an effort to make it known?”
His eyes travel over my body. For a second, they stop on my hips. My chest. My lips. “No.” He does nothing to pull the conversation back. To suggest we aren’t discussing sex. “I’m there, in the moment.”
“Always?”
“I always try.” He picks two pieces of seventy percent. Places one on his tongue. The other on his palm. “If you’re not there, you can’t feel it.”
My fingers brush his hand as I take it.
“You can’t taste it.” His eyes flutter together. His brow softens. His teeth scrape his bottom lip.
My sex clenches.
My body buzzes.
My lips part.
It’s so beautiful, watching bliss spread across his expression. Watching him savor every drop of it.
Not just because he’s awake and alive and all in.
Because he’s there.
Because we both know what this is really about.
Or at least I do.
“Fuck.” A sigh falls from his lips. “That’s perfect.”
“Yeah?” My gaze stays fixed on his soft mouth.
“Forest only has super dark shit. Eighty-five percent. It’s good in its own way, but this… Fuck.” His fingers brush my palm. “That’s melting.”
“Oh.”
“That’s the risk of waiting.”
“With chocolate, yeah.”
He peels the half-melted slice from my hand. Brings it to his mouth. “With anything.” He swallows the chocolate. Then he brings my hand to his mouth.
Sucks the melted treat from it.
He groans against my palm.
He’s trying to kill me.
He’s trying to drive me wild.
He’s trying to wind me so tight I break.
It’s agony.
But a good agony.
“Fuck.” He releases my hand. “That’s good. Try it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Daisy.” He turns me to the row of samples. “Pick one. Try it.”
“Shouldn’t I wash my hands?” I’m not sure how many samples I can have without the voice creeping in. I want to try. But I don’t want to break.
His laugh is hearty. “Fuck it.”
“Fuck spreading disease?”
“Shit, I did promise to teach you about that.”
My cheeks flush.
“Speaking of.” He picks up a piece of seventy percent. Holds it up.
I take it. Place it on my tongue. I can do this. I can enjoy it. It’s no big deal.
Mmm.
It’s darker. Richer. More earthy.
I let it melt.
Swallow the pieces.
I’m okay. I’m not panicking. I’m not worried I overdid it.
Sure, I’m not going to down an entire bar. But I am okay.
Holden turns to the counter. Bends to pick up something.
A white card with big pink hearts and gold text.
All You Need is Love and Chocolate.
There are others behind it. In English. And in Spanish. At least, I think that’s what they say. I know a little Spanish—I do live in Southern California—but mostly stuff like where’s the bathroom and tacos please.
Holden laughs as he opens the card.
Two chocolate flavored condoms.
Oh my God.
My blush deepens. “Does that… work?”
“They’re still effective, yeah.”
“Oh.”
He hands me the card.
My fingers brush his. Stay pressed against his. “Do they really taste… like chocolate?”
“Haven’t had them.”
“But others…”
“Don’t taste a lot of condoms,” he says.
“Oh, right, you, uh…”
“Don’t suck dick, yeah.” His hand goes to his stomach. “Shit, that was loud.”
Very loud.
The entire room is looking at us. Including the guy behind the counter.
“They do,” he says. “Taste like chocolate.”
Oh God.
He motions to the stairs. “We have a café upstairs.”
Holden leans close enough to whisper. “He’s telling us to stop scaring off business.”