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Chapter Five
Sloane
How do you tell a woman she has butter on her boob without sounding like an asshole?
The crab legs were amazing, and I’ll admit I might have looked more like Animal from the Muppet Show eating mine than a distinguished gentleman, but there was no gentle way to eat that kind of food.
You crack the legs and pull the meat out with your hands for fuck’s sake.
I didn’t want to imply that she was a sloppy eater, but there was no way on this sandy island I was going to keep my eyes off her magnificent breasts when there was a damn dollop of butter resting on one like she was serving herself to me as breakfast.
Fuck me.
You have better home training than that, you dickhead.
Aside from the beginning part, the evening had been stellar. The conversation was excellent and the company more gorgeous than I deserved. I would not ruin it by being a damn pervert and drooling over her chest like a caveman.
Unless she was into that.
“Sloane, is something wrong?”
Just the sound of her voice made my dick twitch.
“You’ve got a little something… there.” I nodded in the general direction of her chest, praying I didn’t need to point it out and end up pissing her off.
“What? Where?” Gia looked down at both arms, and then lifted her napkin from her lap and peered under it, like something might have fallen.
I coughed, covered my mouth with my fist, and cleared my throat. “Right there, on your top part.”
“My top part? Oh. Holy hell, I have melted butter on my tit.” Gia frowned and wiped at it with her napkin.
Yep, I should have kept my mouth shut.
“A couple inches lower and I would’ve had a buttery nipple.” She said that shit to me with a straight face, without even blinking.
I couldn’t stop the laugh that came rolling out. Buttery nipple. You have got to be shitting me.
It wasn’t a sexy laugh, either. No, I couldn’t be that lucky.
What came out of my mouth was like a seal barking. But if I thought my laugh was corny, it was nothing compared to Gia’s. She answered my bark with one of her own, and followed it with a hard snort.
We laughed so hard over her buttery boob that I couldn’t catch my breath, and Gia had tears in the corners of her eyes, her cheeks red from the effort.
Our server came to check on us, but it took five full minutes to get our shit together enough to answer.
“Will you be partaking of dessert tonight?” the server asked with a gleam in his eye.
I hoped Gia said yes. Because yes meant more time with this amazing woman who laughed like a donkey. Who didn’t mind that I got pieces of crab shell on the tablecloth and that she spilled butter on herself.
“I can’t,” Gia declined with obvious disappointment.
“Can’t or don’t want to.” I eyed her. If she was doing that thing women do where they don’t want to eat too much on a date...
“Oh trust me, hot stuff, if I’m hungry I’m going to eat. You can believe that.” Gia flipped her hair over her shoulder in that way she did when she was making a point. Like the way some people talk with their hands. But she did it with her hair. “There’s nothing I like better than a piece of fudgey cake so thick it won’t even slide off the fork unless you use your teeth. You know what I mean? You have to use your tongue to get it all out from between the tines? Mmm.”
Jesus, woman.
The way she described cake sent shock waves through my pants. And that moan at the end?
