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The smooth fall of her midnight-black hair skimmed over her shoulders, and she wore thong sandals on her feet, toenails painted a deep rebel red.
God, he wanted her more than he wanted to breathe.
“Hey,” he settled for saying, rather than,I’ve made chicken, but how ‘bout we have each other for dinner instead?
“Hey yourself.”Her gaze dipped down his body in an unashamedly appreciative once-over.He didn’t mind a bit.Besides, they were beyond games now.She’d come for dinner and then she’d stay so he could explore every inch of her with his hands and then his mouth, and then his hands again.
He had to take a deep breath to will away his hard-on.It was tough.
“Come on in.”
He closed the door behind her and heard her short intake of breath.
The overall effect of the set table was pretty and intimate.The wildflowers lent a splash of colour, and the slate table mats were understated, classic.The cutlery gleamed.He’d worked hard to prepare this meal, and its environs, and he was pleased with her reaction, because it mattered.Shemattered.
“It’s beautiful, Rick,” she said softly.
“Southern hospitality at its best.”
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”She met his gaze, and hers was warm, her eyes dancing with happiness.
“I wanted to.C’mere.”He held out his hand.She took it willingly, and he tugged her close, lifted her chin with one gentle hand so he could kiss her.
She tasted of hope and of promise, and he wanted to lose himself in her mouth.Who needed air?He could live off this compelling, vibrant, generous woman.
She made a small sound of pleasure against his lips and he nearly suggested forgoing dinner altogether.
But he’d worked at this, and he wanted to impress her.
Shedeservedto be treated like a fuckin’ Queen.
He gave her one last, longing kiss, and then reluctantly pulled back.
“Sit.”He pulled out a chair, and she folded that delectable body into it.“The chicken’s about done, just needs to rest.”
“It smellsdivine.”She leaned back in the chair with a relaxed sigh, took a breadstick and tapped it against her lips.It was a very particular shape and Rick forced himself not to think about other things of that shape which would look amazing near her lips.Specifically, a part of his body.“I haven’t had a roast dinner since my mum cooked one a few months ago.”
“Oh yeah?”Rick poured a measure of wine into the glasses.“It’s a whole thing, ain’t it?A roast dinner.Very British.”
“Very,except my dad serves his with a pile of roasted garlic cloves, garlic breadandchili sauce, always has.He always complained about the lack of them if we went to a carvery, where they basically serve a conveyor belt of roast dinner.It made me feelsoweird when we had friends over.”
“Garlic bread, huh?And how do you feel about it now?Still embarrassed?”
She laughed.“Now, I feel that anyone who hasn’t tried garlic bread dipped in my mum’s beef gravy can’t judge it until they have.I’m still not sold on the chili sauce, but I’ve always been a bit of a wimp when it comes to spice, much to my dad’s disappointment.”
Rick opened the oven to check the carrots.They could do with a few extra minutes, so he took the chicken out and lay it to rest on the stone trivet on the kitchen counter.
He watched out of the corner of his eye as Maddie nibbled on the breadstick with those soft, rosy lips.
Goddamn.
“Your mom good with spicy food?”Rick asked, to distract himself from thinking about the myriad of sexy things Maddie could do with her mouth.
“Some.She’s got better since she met my dad.No choice,” she laughed.
Rick started to carve the chicken into a dish.The scent wafted up, making his mouth water.He’d done well.
Maddie finished the breadstick and didn’t take another.Her gaze was focused on him carving the chicken.“What about you?You like heat?”
