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“You sure about that?” I groaned as her nipples beaded at the mention. The silk of her dress left little to the imagination and the cut didn’t allow a bra that I could see. I certainly hadn’t felt one when I’d been dancing with her.
My fingers tightened on the knife as I breathed out slowly, so I didn’t butcher the cuts.
The memory of how her nipples puckered under my tongue was still fresh. Just this morning, and still, I wanted to watch the thin little strap slide down her shoulder.
There’d be plenty of time for that. The wooing didn’t just mean sex, dammit. Cooking for her, taking care of her, getting to know her—those things were just as important.
I shifted my stance wider to give my dick a bit of breathing room because that fucker sure as hell didn’t give a damn about the romance of dinner.
She was quiet as she scrolled through my music app and I realized my mistake. She wasn’t going to make it any easier on me with her choices. The watery tones of Lana Del Ray floated out of my bedroom speakers. The gentle beat layered with a sad piano only intensified the tension between us.
Lana’s voice was full of longing and sensual delight.
I set the orange plate in front of her and refilled her wine.
“Smells amazing.”
“I can manage a few dishes, thanks to Laverne. My mother wasn’t exactly gifted in the kitchen. I think we all came knocking on her door on Wednesdays though. She can make a mean fajita.”
Helena laughed. “I’m not sure my mother knows where the kitchen is in our penthouse.”
I lifted my fork, not sure what to say to that one. It was so easy to forget how different we were.
She frowned. “Way to ruin the mood.”
“No, it’s okay. We do come from different worlds. That’s not a bad thing. Unless you’re looking for a gourmet meal. Then we might be in trouble.”
She lifted her fork to stab one of the street corn ribs. “Gourmet or not, it smells wonderful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen corn served like this.”
“Street corn ribs. A little spicy since you seem to like burning your tongue off.”
Probably a bit pedestrian for her palate, but the pure pleasure in her eyes released some of the tension that had snuck up my spine. She fought with her fork a few times before she finally dropped it and picked up the rib to nibble on it.
Her gaze drifted to me as she was licking butter off the pad of her thumb. “What? Am I doing it wrong?”
“Not at all.”
“Stop staring at me then.”
“Can’t. You’re too adorable.”
She wrinkled her nose at me.
I laughed and leaned back with my glass resting on the arm of my chair.
She wiped her mouth and fingers then finished her glass. The wine put a flush in her cheeks and a hazy softness to her golden eyes. She stood and started gathering the dishes.
Before I could tell her I’d take care of it, she put the pile aside so she could stand in front of me. I swallowed as she pressed her knee between my leg and arm of the chair. The slit in her dress showed off the golden tone of her leg. She straddled me, tucking her other knee between my hip and the chair so she was above me.
She took my glass and finished it off as well, setting it on the table behind her.
Liquid courage?
She gripped the back of my chair with one hand and my gaze locked on the series of chains that slipped between her breasts. She cupped my jaw, her thumb slipping across my bearded chin. I should have shaved for her, but I’d run out of time.
“I want to feel this between my thighs again.”
Then again, one couldn’t fault divine timing.
