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With trembling fingers, she took another sip while he talked up the waiter. Evidently they knew him enough to recommend a new dish they thought he'd enjoy. He asked what she wanted, and she let him choose. It was probably a very submissive thing to do, but she really didn't care, as long as it made his eyes darken. At a restaurant like this, they wouldn't serve a single bad dish. She was bound to get something good.
Nothing as good and wicked as Conn. “So tell me about you."
"What do you want to know, darlin'?"
"Everything."
He talked about his family living in Texas, his mama, Miss Belle's first-born daughter. He had an older brother, Victor, and a younger sister, Vicki, all hell-bent and trouble according to him.
"If your mama is anything like Miss Belle, then I'm really not sure I want to meet her."
Conn laughed, his fingers making lazy circles on her arm. “As a matter of fact, Mama is worse than Miss Belle. She inherited many of Colonel Healy's more obnoxious bossy traits."
Rae shuddered, thankful her possible in-laws lived so far away. “You're still teaching at Drury, aren't you?"
"Sure am. I'd like to be here until the day I die."
"What are you doing this weekend?"
"A little fencing with a friend of mine. We make the Ren Faire circuit."
"You fence? Like with swords?"
"It's a hobby of mine.” He turned quiet, somber, the grooves in his face pronounced. They ate quietly, Rae trying to
enjoy the chicken despite the capers. “What's wrong with your dish?"
"Nothing."
"Rae, you've got to tell me if you're not happy with something. Every time you take a bite, you frown. How can I take care of you if I don't even know what you need?"
Her brain retorted that she didn't need anybody to take care of her, but her heart melted. “I don't like capers. I should have read the menu closer."
"My fault, darlin'. You let me order, remember? What else don't you like?"
They talked about food while enjoying the incredible dinner, but tension wound higher, subtle at first, but more and more pronounced. She kept jumping every time he moved or spoke, unsure why she was so tense. Her nerves jangled, sensitive to the least signal from him. Pushing his plate away, he stretched out his legs beneath the table, deliberately wide and sprawled so his thigh rubbed hers.
She moaned softly before she could silence it. The tension mounted, thick and oppressive, matching the darkening storm in his eyes.
Finally, he leaned over and breathed into her ear. “I think it's time to give you that extra credit."
Startled, she glanced around the restaurant, but nobody sat close enough to hear. The alcove was dark and made for lovers. Surely he wouldn't—"What, here?"
"Yes, here."
The waiter brought a thick slice of death-by-chocolate layered cake. Conn loaded the fork and fed her bite by bite, his eyes locked on her mouth. Every few bites, he put the empty fork in his mouth and licked it clean. His eyes blazed. From the chocolate? Or her taste?
She tried to quell the heat spreading through her. “Don't I get to feed you?"
One corner of his mouth quirked. “I thought you'd never ask."
Leaning down, he licked her neck, his teeth grazing her collarbone. Just a nibble, but she jolted with surprise just the same. He slid his arm behind her, his palm sliding hot down her right arm. His body heat seared her left side, back, and thigh. Sitting in public, she felt covered by him, possessed by his little touches and potent stares. It was odd, terrifying, and thrilling at the same time.
How far would he go? How far would she let him go? In public?
As she lifted the fork to his mouth, her hand shook. She put the empty fork in her mouth as he'd done, and he rumbled with approval. “Do you taste me, darlin'?"
Maybe it was her imagination, but she did taste just a hint of that sultry darkness of the mastery of his mouth. Shivers took hold deep in the pit of her stomach. Tightening her thighs together, she closed her eyes, trying to calm the roaring desire.
