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“Oh,” she laughs, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “Harper won it all.”
I laugh. “Of course she did. She’s the bomb.”
“She won because she was the whole package. Harper has always been beautiful, charismatic, smart, and outgoing.”
“Well, Felicity back in town might make things a bit more interesting,” I say, taking a drink of my own beer.
“Definitely. I have no doubt there are no good intentions where she’s concerned.”
A few seconds of silence hang between us. Marissa scans the room, checking out the other diners, while I take the opportunity to check her out. Her eyes are a bright green, very similar to those of her cousin’s. Her cheekbones are high and swiped with a hint of pink, and her lips have a light sheen of nude colored gloss. I almost wish they were painted a deep red so I can smear it all over her face with my lips.
Felicity returns with plates for the salad bar. We make our way to the opposite side of the room and fill up on salad, pasta, and fruit. Marissa wastes no time diving in the moment we get back to the table. I love the fact that she isn’t afraid to eat.
“Tell me more about your family.” The words are out of my mouth between bites before I can stop them. I never want to know family details. Never. But with Marissa, I find myself wanting to know everything about what makes her her.
“Well, you’ve met them all. Samuel is a mortician at one of the funeral parlors. He’s the oldest, never married, and probably showers in his suit.” That makes me laugh, because, frankly, I think it might be true. “Harper is next and owns a lingerie store in town.”
Leaning forward, I set my fork down and drop my voice. “Do you own anything from there, Angel?”
Her eyes meet mine, a slow burn filling those emerald orbs. “Maybe.”
“Maybe I can see them sometime?”
“I’m pretty sure that if you continue to play your cards right, you’ll be seeing them in about an hour,” she adds with a flare of sass that goes straight to my balls.
I playfully gasp. “You’re wearing something from her lingerie shop right now?”
“It’s quite possible,” she says with a shrug.
“Let me see.” I reach for the tablecloth and bend down to look under the table.
“Stop!” she whisper-yells, swatting at my hand with her own.
“I’m not going to be able to sit here and eat, knowing you’re wearing something dirty under that beautiful dress.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“Probably not,” I add sadly, picking up a piece of lettuce with my fork. “Unless…you wanted to just give me a little hint?”
Marissa shakes her head, a joyful smile on her face. “A hint, huh? Like if I just mention that they’re blue like your eyes, that’ll get you through until the later part of our evening?”
Blue like my eyes. Holy shit, this woman is doing a number on me. “What about the material? The color is a delightful detail, but if you told me the material, I’m sure I’d be able to survive the next hour.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“That I am, Angel. That I am,” I answer, offering her a smile and taking a bite of my pasta salad. She doesn’t say anything for several seconds, and the silence suits us just fine. I’m comfortable with her in nearly any situation, and I love the fact neither of us feels the need to add mindless chatter.
When I push my plate away, I see she’s already finished her salad. She glances my way, a smirk toying on her lips. “Satin with lace. Thong.” Without saying a word, I toss my napkin down on the table, reach for her hand, which she reluctantly and with a lot of question in her eyes takes, and haul her to her feet. “Where are we going? We haven’t eaten dinner?”
I place my lips to hers. “We’re taking it to go, Angel.”
“But you asked for a hint,” she counters.
“Yeah, but now the picture is so vivid in my head, I need to know if the real thing is just as fucking phenomenal as what I’m imagining.”
Her eyes dilate and darken, even beneath the low lighting of the restaurant. Felicity returns to the table, a plate in each hand, and gives us a questioning look. I’m sure I look like I’m about to throw this woman over my shoulder, our destination unknown, but one fact remains: I want to fuck the hell out of her. All. Night. Long.
Marissa keeps her eyes locked on mine as she says, “We’ll take those steaks to go, Felicity.”
Guilt sweeps in, and I open my mouth to protest. This isn’t how a date works, at least not a proper one. I should be able to control my cock for an hour so that we can enjoy a nice meal together. The end of the evening is already pretty much a guarantee, but that doesn’t mean I should turn all caveman-like on her and forget my manners.
Before I tell our waitress to leave the food and take my seat in the booth, Marissa goes for the kill. She grazes her hand over my hard cock, essentially cutting off what little blood flow I had to my actual brain, and says, “Check please.”
She turns and winks at Felicity, who’s standing beside us, mouth gaping open and shock written all over her face. Then, because this woman is hell-bent on stepping over every line she’s ever drawn in place for herself, she threads her hands behind my neck and pulls me down, her lips meeting mine in a fierce kiss.
A kiss that’s a prelude.
A promise.
Best. Date. Ever.
