Can't Fix Cupid

“Do you know how to make a nice blow job?” I quip.

The waiter blanches and looks over nervously at Warren, whose lips twitch. “No shots here, darling,” he replies.

I snap my fingers. “Darn. Maybe later?”

Warren’s dark eyes glitter. “You can count on it.”

We definitely aren’t talking about a shot anymore.

I take pity on the poor sputtering waiter who’s staring at us with wide, nervous eyes. “I’m fine with just this water, thank you,” I assure him.

He hightails it out of there like his ass is on fire.

I let my eyes skim over each of the fancy dinner plates now set before us, and Warren points to each one. “Baked salmon, filet mignon, fettucc

ine, or caprese salad. Have whatever you like.”

My mouth waters at the array of deliciousness presented beautifully on each plate. “How about we share all four?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Warren and I spend the next half hour feeding each other bites of food, telling stories, and playing footsie under the table.

It’s fun and relaxing, quiet and romantic. And once again, it’s exactly perfect.

I sit back with a sigh and pat my belly. “Damn, I’m stuffed. I can’t eat another bite.”

“That’s too bad,” Warren says as he caresses his hand up and down my stretched out leg from where my bare foot is perched on his chair. “Because I’ve ordered one of every dessert as well. I suppose I’ll have to cancel the order.”

“Whoa, there. Let’s not get crazy. This is dessert we’re talking about. I can make room for that deliciousness.”

He chuckles, his fingers trailing up my shin and circling down to my ankle. “Speaking of deliciousness, have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?”

I smile. “Once or twice, but there’s no limit.”

His hand trails back up my leg, sending a trail of goosebumps in its wake as he travels up to my thigh. “Perhaps I’ll just have you for dessert instead.”

I shake my head. “No way. You just promised me all those desserts. No takebacks,” I tell him.

When he leans forward and starts to push his hand higher and higher up my thigh, I quickly grab his hand before he can reach my panties. “And stop trying to make me horny! We’re still at dinner. That’s not good table manners.”

“Trying?” he asks with an arched eyebrow. “We both know there’s no trying. I’ve definitely made you horny.”

Cocky bastard.

I quickly stand up, forcing him to lose his hold on me. “I’m just going to run to the bathroom.”

“Why? You finding yourself a little wet, darling?”

Yes. “No,” I scoff. “Behave yourself until I get back, and think about what you’ve done.”

“I’d much rather think about all the things I’m going to do,” he says with a wicked grin.

Holy shit, this man should be bottled and sold to the masses. Instant libido surges.

With a blush, I turn to go inside and hurry down the stairs, heading into the lavish women’s restroom. As soon as the door closes behind me, I nearly jump out of my skin because there’s Sev, stretched out on the couch inside.

“Sev?” I squeal. “What are you doing here?”