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We clink and sip, then share an elegant meal together. My lady and I share the scallop appetizer and then a bone-in frenched rack of lamb along with several more glasses of champagne, celebrating just as I hoped to. Propriety might demand that we tone down the PDA when out and about, but I can’t hold out from giving her another sign of my affection. I lean over the table to kiss her lips again, catching the flavor of the bubbly on her tongue.
“I’d like to give another toast,” I pronounce, and since she appears to be a lightweight with alcoholic beverages, she giggles like a schoolgirl.
“We haven’t had plenty of toasts already?”
“No.”
“Go ahead, then.”
The apples of her cheeks are glowing pink, and I’m chomping at the bit to ravish her all over again. I witnessed the effort it took for her to put herself together, and I can’t wait to take her all apart.
Clinking our glasses, I speak quietly so that no one else can hear. “Thank you for agreeing to date me, Trina. And thank you for giving me the chance to love you.”
“Harrison,” her voice is pitched higher than usual as she abandons her champagne flute and joins me on my side of the booth. She ignores all propriety and lays one on me right there in front of everyone, and I couldn’t be any happier with her decision if I tried.
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