Hothead (Irresistible 4)

Then she pushed her shiny tits together for me to fuck.

“Are you there?” Evie teased once the waiter left. I blinked as she flashed me a smile.

“I’m here. If I drift off from time to time, it’s because I’m thinking about your tits.”

“Maybe don’t say that so loudly since this is supposed to be our first romantic dinner as an engaged couple,” she smirked, touching the back of her neck. “And please don’t spend the entire night looking at me like you want to eat me.”

“I do. I’ve already imagined ten different ways I’d spread your pussy on this table.”

“Drew!” Evie hissed, nodding at the couple seated a table away from us. “There are other people in this restaurant who don’t want to hear about my pussy.”

“Judging from the way that guy stared at you as you walked in, I don’t think he would mind.”

“Drew.”

“Fine, we’ll change the subject,” I complied just as our wine arrived. “So did I pick a good enough restaurant tonight? Or is this menu not suitable to your sophisticated palate?”

“Um, why are we acting like I’m the

fancy person at this table? Your watch is worth more than my entire salary last year and I grew up next to a trailer park.”

I paused to process the trailer park comment. I wasn’t sure why it surprised me considering I already knew she’d grown up in poverty.

“I figured since you make a living designing menus that you’d be critical of dishes you see at other restaurants.”

“Oh my God, no,” she giggled. “There are many different corners of the food world, and I’m not in one of the classy ones. My specialty is in designing over-indulgent, borderline ridiculous menu items that taste good but are solely to pique the interest of the media,” Evie clarified with a laugh. “And I got this good at it because I was dating a guy who worked in restaurant PR, so he knew exactly what trendy buzzwords the food blogs responded to. ‘Vodka-poached,’ ‘truffle-infused’ – all that yummy bullshit.”

“And this former boyfriend of yours – what’s his name again?”

“I don’t recall,” Evie replied breezily, taking a dainty sip of her wine. I laughed.

“Good. Though in that case I wish I just picked a burger joint because stuffy places like this aren’t really my scene.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’m still super excited to be here. This is a beautiful restaurant,” she said, gazing around at the enormous flower arrangements on every surface, and the view of Madison Avenue out the double height windows. “I feel like I saw this place on TV before when I was younger,” Evie mused. “On like, Food Network. Or the Cooking Channel. Or Travel. Or maybe it was something I watched on Netflix.”

Now she was just mumbling to herself trying to figure out where she might’ve seen this restaurant, which I personally knew had opened only last year because I knew the owner. So this was a pointless train of thought for her, and I probably should’ve said something but I for some reason enjoyed watching Evie think this hard.

She was unconsciously playing with her bottom lip while squinting into the distance, and it gave me time to just look at her without her either blushing or saying something smart.

“So, you’ve made fun of me for my need to eat so often,” I pointed out when she finally gave up. “Yet you’re clearly obsessed with food.”

“But see, there’s a huge difference. You eat to live, and I live to eat,” she said. “You refer to your food as ‘calories.’ You practically have a business relationship with your meals. It’s just sustenance so you have energy to throw like, you know, a sixty mile-per-hour fastball or whatever.”

“I throw at a hundred. Sixty would be unimpressive.”

“Whatever, I don’t know things. I’m learning, okay?” Evie laughed.

“Fine. Let’s go back to your love affair with indulgent food. How did it start?”

“Umm. I think it happened in late middle school or high school when that trend of like, slutty food happened.”

“What the fuck is slutty food?”

“You know. It was like, overstuffed sandwiches or the biggest ice cream sundae in the country topped with gold leaf or like, Bloody Marys garnished with an entire fucking grilled cheese. Stupid stuff.”

“That you clearly fell in love with.”

“Yes,” she said so unapologetically I had to grin. “We didn’t have much growing up, so that kind of indulgence was amazing and fascinating to me. I couldn’t get enough of watching it on TV.”