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“Whoah, somebody pushed the boat out,” she giggles.
“Do you like them?” I ask, handing them to her.
She takes them, our hands brushing, flesh on flesh this time. She’s warm from the kitchen and the sensation moves through me, a direct line to my manhood, already rock solid but now feeling as though it could explode out of my pants at any minute.
She glances up at me, biting her lip in a way that makes me want to turn carnal and beastly right here.
Part of me is glad when Lava comes bounding down the hallway, tail wagging. I reach down and give him a hello rub, and then stand up to find Millie with her face buried in the flowers, inhaling.
“Beautiful,” she says.
“Yes,” I growl, eyeing her and leaving no room for confusion about what I mean. I gesture with the box of chocolates. “I got these as well.”
“Oh, well, thanks,” she mutters. “I don’t think I need anymore though.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to puzzle out the statement. “You don’t like chocolate?”
“Yeah, I do. I love it. Maybe too much.”
I stare, dumbfounded. “I’m not following you.”
She shoots me a sassy look, taking the chocolates.
“Hey, I thought you SEALs were supposed to be smart.”
I smirk ironically.
“Some are smarter than others, I guess,” I tell her, still with no idea what that chocolate comment was supposed to mean.
She leads me into the house, Lava loping at her feet. But my eyes are glued to that fine ass. She’s wearing jeans and a frilly sweater. It just makes it all the sweeter that the jeans aren’t tight, the fabric falling naturally onto her skin, letting me imagine that it’s my hands pressing down, feeling her bare curvy flesh.
We amble into the kitchen, which has a little seating area off to the side. Beyond the night dark window, a light wind whistles. Lava takes off somewhere into the house, leaving us alone in the warmth of the room, the smells of her cooking making my belly rumble and my mouth salivate…even more than she does, somehow, with those mind-fucking hips and that juicy grab-me ass.
She puts the flowers in a glass vase and gestures at the stove. Something’s bubbling and more spice-laden scents drift over to me.
“I hope you like chili con carne,” she says. “I know it’s not the most exotic dish, but—”
“It smells incredible,” I cut her off. “I can’t remember the last time I smelt anything so damn good, truth be told.”
She thrills visibly, her cheeks turning red, but perhaps that’s from the heat of the cooking.
Or maybe it’s because her mind is as full of carnal thoughts as yours.
Fine, maybe that could be true—maybe she’s also thinking about where this date could go.
But is she thinking about where the rest of our lives could go as well?
If I told her how certain I was that she’s the woman for me, now and always, would she laugh or run away?
“You can sit down if you want, soldier,” she says. “There’s no need to stand at attention.”
I smirk, realizing that she’s right. I’ve been standing at the entranceway with my hands behind my back as though waiting for a fight to break out. I walk over to the table and sit down, feeling absurdly large at the rustic style furnishing, the chair creaking beneath me.
“Thank you for the flowers,” she says.
“No problem,” I mutter, my eyes scorching into her, those thick legs trapped in those jeans, begging to be freed.
“Would you like a drink? Wine? Beer?”
“I’ll take a water,” I say. “I’m not much of a drinker. Don’t let me stop you, though.”
“Two waters it is, then,” she says. “I’m not much of a drinker, either. I mean, I’m not a teetotal or anything, but I’ve never much liked the feeling of not being in control, you know?”
My gaze burns into her, those rosy red cheeks, the singsong quality to her voice. It grapples with something deep inside of me, taking me down and pinning me there irresistibly, as if any second I’m going to snap and give into the primal beast within and charge across the kitchen, palm that ass, palm those tits, make her beg for a release and—
Cool it, man, I try to order myself, even if I know it’s downright impossible where Millie is concerned.
She gets us two glasses of water and brings them over. I reach over and take mine, and again our hand’s touch, the sensation shimmering through my hand and up my arm, causing my muscles to tense.
She catches my eye and a smile lights up her face, the sort of smile that tells me she’s struggling to believe this is happening.
You and me both.
“Dinner will be ready in a few,” she says, returning to the stove.
I’m happy to just watch her at her work, leaning back and never once taking my eyes off her body, the way her hips swish from side to side as she moves around, setting out plates and sieving the rice, washing the starch off, all the while with this look of complete concentration on her face.
