Fill Me (Rouse Me 3)

The restaurant is, in fact, someplace nice. Insanely nice, actually. It's in midtown, hidden between a few skyscrapers. Best of all, it's private. Really private. Tinted windows. Drawn shades.

Our booth is in the back of the restaurant, in a quiet corner where almost no one can see us. It's still early in the evening, before the place is full of executives on dates with models, and there's almost no one here. Just me and Luke in our own private world.

Luke orders wine. Yes, wine. My mouth almost drops when he starts describing the flavor to me.

"Since when do you drink wine?" I ask.

"It's a special occasion."

"Is it?"

He nods. And is he... is he blushing? Luke fucking Lawrence, my obscenely confident boyfriend, is blushing.

This is unheard of.

And of course he doesn't look adorable or endearing. He looks hot as hell with his that color in his cheeks. He looks like he's just come down from an amazing orgasm.

"What are you thinking?" he asks.

I grin. "You don't want to know."

"Now I do." He sips his wine. His hands are shaking. It's a slight thing, barely noticeable, but it's there.

He's nervous.

He's never nervous.

"I was thinking about the way you look when you come," I say.

"Well, at least you are buying me dinner before you try and get in my pants."

"I'm buying you dinner here?"

He shakes his head. "No, it's on me." He flags down the waiter and orders another glass of wine. When the hell did he start drinking wine? He looks back at me, his confidence seemingly restored. "Really, Ally, when did you become such a pervert?"

"I'm the pervert?"

"Mhmm."

"Cause I'm the one who seduced you?"

He nods, his messy hair falling over his eyes. There's something different about him right now, and it's not just nerves. His eyes are always big and full of life, but they're especially bright today. They're lighting up the whole room. He's in slacks and a silk shirt. He almost always wears cotton. Hell, he brags that it's Egyptian cotton, amazing cotton, the best damn cotton in the world. He brags about how smooth it feels against his skin as he undoes his buttons, torturing me as slowly as humanly possible.

Usually when Luke is in a suit he looks like the epitome of confidence. He looks like the guy you would want behind your bench in court--serious, self-assured, with just a hint of sex appeal. But there's something about him today. It's almost like he's a little boy playing dress up or like a terrified teenager on his way to the prom.

He brings his gaze back to me. "Miss Summers, are you complaining?"

I shake my head.

"Because, if I recall correctly, I did deliver on my promise."

"And what was that?"

"To make you come."

"And you like to remind me."

"Well," he says. "I'm only trying to find the facts."