The waiter tipped his head. “Are you ready to order? What can I get you?”
My ears rung as Elder snatched up the unlooked at menu and barked a command. His seductive timbre entered my hearing, but his words didn’t compute.
I didn’t have a clue what we’d eat as my ears stopped working in favour of my eyes imprinting every little thing about him. The way he sipped his water after the waiter left. The way he fiddled with his silver wave cufflinks. The way he tried to stop looking at me, but within a few seconds, his eyes found mine again and couldn’t let go.
I had the same affliction.
He was gravity.
He was the moon, and I was the ocean, and together we couldn’t look away for a moment.
He hadn’t asked for the spoon, and I hadn’t attempted to give it to him. It was our little secret and probably not the only reason his gaze travelled to my chest more than once, lingering on me in a way that made me hot and cold and wet and tingly all at the same time.
Our appetiser arrived.
A crispy wonton base with tuna ceviche and crème cheese.
Once again, we held no conversation as Elder gathered my plate and placed two of the delicate appetisers in front of me.
Using my fingers, I placed one into my mouth. My appetite had only one thing it was hungry for, and it wasn’t food. Once again, that terrible word lust had twisted me up and made me believe I was cured enough to want what I desperately hungered for.
My taste buds came alive as the subtle flavours grabbed my attention, finally giving me something else to focus on than just Elder.
He chewed slowly. His eyes closed for a moment, enjoying the light but aromatic food.
My mouth watered as his powerful throat rippled as he swallowed. My teeth locked together as his hands flexed to gather his napkin. When his head turned to survey the restaurant and fellow diners at their own oasis of eating, I studied his perfectly formed ear, the rouge blue-black curl on his forehead, and the roughness of his five o’clock shadow.
Did the ceviche have illegal substances in it? Why was I suddenly so aware of every little thing about my dining companion?
And why hadn’t we spoken?
Why was I afraid to speak when only a few glances revealed what our words never would? We ached for one another. We bruised for one another.
I’d never been a girl who needed physical contact to feel loved. My mother wasn’t a hugger, and I was more suited to never being touched after my miserable history.
But Elder’s presence tugged on me.
I didn’t like being on the other side of the table. I wanted to be beside him. I wanted to be able to touch him.
Table-cloths and fine dining were still a novelty after my dog bowl and chains. I was an imposter in this world.
I needed Elder close like he’d been on that first night when he’d tried to give me a penny for my thoughts. That first meeting when he brought about the end of my world.
I needed him to shield me from the whispers of my past, hissing that I didn’t have permission to eat in a place like this. That I didn’t have a license to think I was a woman rather than a pet.
He was the one who made me believe. He was the one who nudged me closer to confidence.
Our main meal arrived.
Elder had ordered the same for both of us: cauliflower puree with seared scallops, garnished with things I couldn’t name and herbs that detonated on my tongue.
Silence was a third entity as we ate and stared and ate some more.
My stomach tangled with food and fancy. Tension born from questions…
What will happen when we go back to our room?
What will we do when we’re alone?
I forced myself to eat every delicious mouthful all while Elder glued me into place with a stern look and a frown that never stopped shadowing his gorgeous almond eyes.
It was only once we’d finished our meals and our dirty plates taken away that he sat back, dabbed his mouth with his napkin, and switched his scowl for determination.
The vibe changed from desire-heavy to purposeful.
I was grateful in an odd way. Thankful that the connection throbbing between us wouldn’t devour us just yet. That we had time. That we weren’t just hostage to what our bodies screamed.
I mimicked him with my napkin, taking a sip of water to bolster my courage in preparation.
Never taking his eyes off me, Elder reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out his money clip. Peeling off a hundred dollar bill, he smoothed it onto the table, pushing it toward me with elegant fingers. “For you.”
I gawked at the money, lost and slightly cheapened. He’d given me money before, but the notes had always been quaintly dressed in origami. I hadn’t counted how much he’d gifted thanks to his paper creations—it was more than I’d had in years—and I would continue to accept any number of his folded artwork because I had no intention of destroying them to spend it.