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“Mmhmm,” I mumble, my head tucked in his armpit. “This was the perfect day, and something I wouldn’t have thought of. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You know I would give you the world if I could.”
I turn my head to look up at him. “I just want you.”
“Well, I have more plans for later,” he murmurs before latching his lips onto my earlobe.
“More?” I ask, chills running down my spine from his breath on my neck.
“Oh, yes,” he whispers against my ear. “Much more.”
Back at the hotel, I rummage through my suitcase, searching for something to wear. Before heading to his room, Chase told me to take a shower and dress for dinner, but he wouldn’t elaborate on where we were going. Finding a white halter top dress that comes to just above my knees, I pull it from my bag and hold it in front of me. Not too short for fancy, not too long for casual—it’s perfect.
A knock at my hotel door tells me Chase is here. I unlock the door, let him in, and run my eyes up and down his body. Fuck, he is so hot. Dressed in linen, you can still see the contours of his perfect chest through the flowing fabric. Licking my bottom lip, my eyes are drawn to his perfect mouth, my breath hitching as he draws closer.
Pulling me into his arms, he buries his nose in my curly hair. “Mmm, you smell so good,” he breathes before pulling back just enough to look down his nose at me. “And that dress . . . God, you look amazing.” His eyes are black with need and my face tingles as it reddens under his gaze. “It would only look better crumpled up on my bedroom floor,” he purrs. Biting my bottom lip, I press my legs together in an attempt to fight the need I’m feeling.
“Chase . . .” I start to whimper, but he stops me.
“I know. Me, too, but I have plans.”
“Uh. .uh huh,” I stutter, my mind focused on his unsaid promises.
“We have all night, baby.” But I want him right here, right now, and it’s taking everything in me not to jump him. I squirm and he chuckles. Leaning down, he kisses me softly. “C’mon. Dinner, remember?”
Thirty minutes later, we pull up to a small, yellow building resembling a house, with bright blue awnings covered in fish. The sign on the front reads Pisces, A Seafood Place. Chase takes my hand and leads me to the entrance.
As we enter the restaurant, a beautiful blonde hostess greets us. “Hello, do you have a reservation?” she asks, the tone of her voice as fake as her hair.
“No,” Chase replies. “Do you have a table for two?”
“It will be about fifteen minutes,” she mumbles, looking at her reservation book.
“Fine, we’ll be at the bar,” Chase
says.
As we make our way to the middle of the restaurant, I’m surprised by how different the inside looks from the outside. The restaurant itself is very light and airy. Trendy too, with Andy Warhol’s work spattering the walls. There are tall, round archways throughout, giving the space a softer edge. We walk up to the L-shaped, white marble topped bar and stand toward the corner.
Turning to me, Chase asks, “Olivia, what would you like?” I think for a moment. I have been drinking champagne all afternoon, so I don’t think I need another alcoholic beverage. On second thought, I have no idea what he has planned for later. Maybe I do need a drink.
“I’ll have a glass of wine. Sauvignon Blanc, please.”
“Sounds good.” He turns to the beautiful blonde behind the bar. “Do you have a wine list?” She smiles brightly, reaching over to grab a menu. Placing it in front of Chase, she eyes him up and down, looking a little too closely. I squint my eyes and silently seethe.
Opening the large menu, he runs his left index finger down the page. He tilts his head subtly and strums his right thumb across his sexy lips. “We’ll take number two-twenty-one,” he says, still looking at the menu. He turns to me and grins, and I can’t help but smile back. He edges slightly closer to me so our legs are touching, his left hand on the small of my back.
The bartender scurries off and comes back with a bottle of Alphonse Mellot 2006 Cuvée Edmond Sauvignon Blanc. After getting a nod from Chase, she brings over two glasses and places them on the bar top.
Stroking down the side of the glass, she goes through the show of opening the bottle and gives Chase the tasting. He takes a sip and nods. She pours wine into my glass, and then fills his. He picks up his glass and gives a nod for me to as well.
“To a lovely evening,” he toasts.
We clink glasses and take sips of our wine.
“So, Chase, where did you go to school?” I ask, wanting to know more about him. We got together so fast, we didn’t really take the time to learn many details about each other. He looks at me, a funny expression on his face. “I know you went to Harvard, but where did you go before that? I went to Connetquot.”
“Oh,” he breathes. “I went to public school until eighth grade. Locust Valley School District. My father wanted me to go to an Ivy League school, so he enrolled me in the Dalton School in Manhattan when I hit high school. Dalton practically guaranteed my admission to anywhere I wanted to go. I graduated top of my class and went to Harvard for both my undergraduate and graduate degrees for law.”
