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Derek laughs. God, I love the sound of his laugh. It’s rougher than it should be. Deeper and all man. I could listen to him laugh all day.
"Wow,” he says, shaking his head and picking up his own glass. “Here I am, being all romantic and sweet for you, and you have to go and ruin it," he says, pretending to be offended. I love this playful side of him. This is the man I want. The side of him I looked forward to all those years ago.
"Yeah, yeah. You just want to get a piece, just like you did back then," I say with a flirtatious grin.
“I can't believe you said that. You need to be punished for that smart mouth of yours.” His voice gets harder, carrying more than a hint of reprimand and my heart stammers. “Get underneath the table," he commands, his eyes piercing into me.
"What?" I ask, not believing what he just said. I can’t even breathe as he holds my gaze without blinking. He’s gotta be fucking kidding.
“Do it," he commands again.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I practically hiss. I am not getting under the table. But my thighs involuntarily clench at the thought of him punishing me. I hide my face behind my hand and try not to be turned on by the image of going down on him right now. What the fuck is wrong with me?
"Not now, the waiter’s coming," he says in a more lighthearted tone, smirking at me.
I look up at him, face flushed with my heart racing, and my clit throbbing with need.
He smiles broadly. “You were really thinking of doing it?” he asks with disbelief.
Oh, you fucker.I bite down on my lip, feeling a bit of outrage stirring inside me, but mostly relief.
He starts laughing, and I can’t help but swat him on his arm. It feels good to be this relaxed with him.
He shrugs and says, "I just wanted to see how you’d react.” I smack him again playfully and settle into the leather-lined booth.
"You didn’t seem to mind me going down on you the other night," he says after the waiter sets down our plates and refills our wine glasses, then leaves.
“I was high.” I say the words a little louder than I should, and I instantly cover my mouth.
"And you liked it," he says with a wink.
I feel the blood rushing to my face, making my cheeks burn.Who wouldn’t?He can’t hold that against me.
“Come on sweetheart, you know I’ll take care of you after," he goads.
“Shut up,” I say playfully, sneaking a glance at him as I spear my fork into the risotto. I close my eyes, savoring the delicious flavor, but they pop open just as quickly as they closed at the sound of breaking glass.
“You stupid bitch!” echoes throughout the restaurant, and the place goes silent. The only sound is the scraping of wooden chair legs across the tiled floor as a man in a grey suit with a crisp white shirt pushes back from his seat and stands up. He’s wiping furiously down his shirt with his white cloth napkin and cursing as he does.
Everyone turns to see what's happening. Across from him is another man who’s not doing a damn thing to stop the shit-show this guy is putting on.
“I’m so-” a waitress is standing next to the man, mortified and clearly upset. She’s bent over the table, picking up the wine bottle and a glass that’s fallen onto the floor and shattered.
“Sorry! Do you know how much this suit cost?” the man screams at her.
That poor waitress! My heartbeat quickens watching him stare her down as she picks up the plates with the spilled wine.
“Sir, I do apologize,” the maître d' begins as he walks up to the pissed off patron, but the customer takes a step forward and gets right in the guy’s face.
Oh shit. My body heats as I watch this guy freak the fuck out.
“It’s all on the house,” the waitress says shakily.
What a fucking prick!
I glance at Derek, and the look on his face is murderous. His pale eyes are smoldering, and his strong jaw is tightly clenched.
“Derek,” I say but I barely get his name out before he climbs out of the booth, my hand on his arm does nothing to stop him.
