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No, not our plates.
Our silver platters.
How the heck did I get here again?
I can smell my burger beneath the platter lid as the waiter lowers it onto the table, my mouth watering at the tastiness of it.
Even though Solomon assured me I could order whatever I want, my stomach still twists at the thought of tucking into a burger in front of him.
Won’t he think I’m gross?
The waiter lifts the tray lid to reveal a gourmet burger with some delicious looking fries that get my mouth watering even more. I fight the desire to fall upon the food like some kind of starving beast as the waiter returns to the kitchen.
“Do you want to say grace first?” Solomon smirks, glancing over at me as he tucks a napkin into his shirt collar.
“No, it’s just …”
I trail off, my gaze flitting to the window, the night pitch-dark beyond. It’s easy to forget about the rest of the world when you’re sitting on top of the world, the city clouded in night-darkness, and yet I can’t forget.
I can’t forget about my insecurities.
They’re always there, a never-ending twisting swirling mess inside of me.
“Sophia,” Solomon says. “You know I love your figure, don’t you? You must know that.”
I gasp and return my gaze to him.
His jaw is tight and his eyes flare with something like rage.
“Yes,” I murmur. “I mean, we wouldn’t have done what we did … in the garage … if you didn’t.”
He chuckles darkly. “Such a shy little virgin, aren’t you? You mean I wouldn’t be driving myself fucking feral holding myself back from you if I wasn’t obsessed with that curvy body of yours.”
“Curvy,” I murmur. “That’s such a loaded word.”
“No, it’s not,” Solomon snaps fiercely, sitting up straighter, looking even more massive and fierce.
He’s wearing a darker suit tonight, a Nordic-sea blue, and tension floods into his face as he gazes hard at me.
“It means exactly what I say,” he goes on. “It means your curves, your body, everything about you drives me fucking insane. It means I hate that you think you need to live up to some bullshit ideal of what a woman is meant to look like. Because you’re not just a woman, Sophia. You’re my woman. And I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. So stop self-pitying and eat your damn burger.”
I giggle through a budding sob.
“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or offended,” I laugh. “It started off so well, but you sort of got a little angry at the end.”
He smirks. “What do you expect? I hate to see somebody as beautiful, kind, and talented as you talk about yourself in that way. You’re my woman, Sophia, so you better get some goddamn self-esteem. And soon.”
I grin, biting my lip. And then I realize that I’m biting my lip when his smirk shivers and becomes animalistic.
“Uh oh,” I laugh. “Am I making you all beastly again?”
“You know what you’re doing,” he growls, laughing deeply.
“Do I?” I say, full of faux-innocence.
He shakes his head, but his smirk never leaves his lips.
“I can’t believe nobody has ever swept you off your feet before,” he says. “Everything about you is perfect.”
“Now you’re going to give me a big head,” I laugh. “What if I took a big disgusting bite of this burger, huh? Would that be perfect?”
“I don’t know,” he says, leaning forward with a wolfish grin. “Why don’t we find out?”
He stares a challenge at me. With the force of his words still swirling around my body, I find myself rising to it.
I pick up the burger and take a massive bite, tasting the juiciness of it, and then chew ostentatiously as he smirks and his eyes glitter brightly.
When I imagined a date with suave and serious Solomon Sky, I never expected to be doing this.
But it feels right, sinking into the fun back-and-forth banter with my man.
My man.
It feels so right already.
I don’t want to question how or why it feels like this.
I just know that we’re destined to be together, with a conviction that surges up from my womb, from my soul, from someplace I wasn’t even aware of before Solomon Sky declared that I belonged to him.
I swallow the burger and wash it down with some champagne, thankfully not burping this time.
“Okay, that might’ve been a little disgusting,” I laugh. “Shall we eat like normal people now?”
Solomon chuckles. “I was about to pick up my steak bare-handed and gnaw into it like a wild man. But sure, let’s do it your way.”
I feel a question rising up on my lips as we go on eating, maybe because of what Caitlin and I spoke about yesterday. She said that Solomon has never been close to anyone, not even her mother. The need to ask him about it flurries around inside of me, but at the same time, I don’t want to shatter the delicate atmosphere of our dinner together.
