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The term of endearment sets me on fire. It isn’t the first time he’s used that pet name, but it’s the first time it’s been for me. “Say it again.”
“Say what again, baby?”
“Mmm.”
He rubs me harder.
“Please.”
“You can beg all you want. You’re still gonna wait.”
My eyelids press together. My fingers dig into my knees. Then into his. It’s too much. I’m too close. I need to come. I need him. I need—
“I hear we’re celebrating something.” The waitress’s voice snaps me out of my lust.
I press my knees together and slide into the booth, breaking his touch.
Fuck, every part of me is buzzing.
I can barely see straight. The waitress is setting down something. A plate of blueberry pancakes. Only there’s a lit candle in the stack.
She smiles as she drops off Ryan’s house omelet, refills our coffees, takes her leave.
Candle.
Pancakes.
Breakfast.
Oh.
He waits until she’s out of earshot to motion to the plate. “We need to celebrate you finishing your class.”
“My what doing what?”
“You all right, Leigh? You look—”
“Like I need to come.”
His smile gets cocky. It should be obnoxious, but it’s not. It’s so fucking hot, him reveling in how desperately I’m wound around his finger. “Yeah.”
“Ryan—”
“Yeah, baby?”
My groan isn’t even close to a word.
He brushes his lips against my cheek then nips at my earlobe. “This is accomplishment, Leigh.”
That sounds reasonable. Maybe. My body is still screaming for his touch.
“And getting your first clients. It’s fucking amazing.”
I suck a breath between my teeth. Let out a heavy exhale.
My nerves settle enough for me to grasp what we’re doing here.
There’s a candle on my pancakes. To celebrate my class ending. It’s weird and cheesy and sweet as sin.
