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She shook her head.
“Then don’t judge until you have.”
She straightened her shoulders and wiggled into the kitchen stool.
“Oysters are an aphrodisiac. In fact, many of the things we’re eating tonight are an aphrodisiac.” It wasn’t a coincidence.
“Why, Jack Vaughn, are you trying to hit on me?”
He smiled. She used almost the same line he had used on her that night on the boat cruise. “Not trying, babe. I am hitting on you.”
She straightened in her seat, a fearful look washing over her face. What had changed since their last time together? He wanted her now more than ever. Good thing he’d decided on an aphrodisiac theme, because he needed all the help he could get.
He placed the pasta bowl on the bar and took his seat on the stool.
A strand of hair stuck out from her clip and he brushed it behind her ear. His finger slowly continued down her neck. She tilted her head to the right, opening herself to his touch. When he reached her jawline he ran his finger across to her lips. “Are you ready to eat?”
Sterling gave a soft sigh. “Yes.”
He positioned her stool closer to face him, zigzagging their legs, his knee brushing her core. She inhaled quickly. He affected her—he had no doubt. But he wouldn’t push her into anything she didn’t want. “I promised, Sterling. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
She smiled lightly, and let her gaze fall away to the counter.
“Chin up, eyes closed.” He placed the shell of the oyster on her bottom lip. She tensed but she let her head fall back. When he tipped the shell, the oyster slid into her mouth. Her nose crinkled and her lips pursed but she gulped, swallowing it down hard.
“It’s like phlegm. It’s like phlegm going down your throat.”
He laughed. “I take it you don’t like oysters.”
She shook her head and grabbed the glass of water beside her.
“At least you tried it. That’s all I asked.” He grabbed his another shell and shook the bottle of Tabasco, covering the oyster in spicy sauce. He tilted his head and slurped it down. When he looked over, she was disgusted just watching him eat one.
“I guess we’re skipping over the first course and getting right down to course number two. Ready to try something else?”
“Definitely ready.”
He popped up to remove the offending oysters and put them back in the fridge.
For the second course, he scooped the piping hot pasta into the small bowl. “Second course, my lady.”
“Thank you.”
He poured a glass of wine, an Australian chardonnay, to go with the pasta.
She devoured everything in her bowl. He loved that she ate. In his experience, most women were salad eaters, or they didn’t eat at all.
When the pasta bowls were cleared, he placed a small piece of steak and chicken on her plate. The asparagus was next, then one of the braised pears. “Eat up.”
She smiled and moved her stool closer to the bar. He poured a second glass of wine to go with the steak and chicken—a cabernet sauvignon from California.
The sounds she made when enjoying food were the same sounds she made during sex. His pants grew tighter with every soft sigh; he was already on edge. He could only hope that his overt attempt at seduction worked, because the musical moans that came with her every bite didn’t help to tamp down his desire.
By the end of the main course Jack’s libido was on overdrive. He shook himself out of his lustful haze and walked over to the freezer to grab a container of sorbet. “This will cleanse your palate for dessert.”
“There’s dessert?”
“Of course there is. It’s my favorite part.” He wiggled his eyebrows. He desperately wanted to serve himself up on a platter for dessert. But he went the traditional route. “I must admit,” he said, “I cheated a little. One of the desserts I stole from Cole.”
