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“We have to get cleaned up,” I say, still nipping at him. “Lucky for us, we still have about an hour before we have to be there.”
He nods, still getting his breathing under control. “Sounds good.”
We get cleaned up and dressed, trying to keep our hands to ourselves. It’s hard because he looks so fucking good. He’s glowing with health and I’m so glad that he’s feeling good. It’s only been a week, but after he told me how rough his last two heats were, I thought he’d still be tired. But he looks fine and says he’s feeling good, making me happy.
We make it to the restaurant in time for our reservation since Benjamin rushed us out the door. With my hand on the small of his back, we follow the host to our table. I love the blush on Benjamin’s cheeks as I pull his chair out.
“Aren’t you the gentleman?” he quips, winking at me as I sit down.
“I can be, for the right omega,” I tell him with a grin.
“I better be the only omega.”
“Never doubt that.”
Palm up, I place my hand on the table. Benjamin places his in mine and we stare into each other’s eyes for a moment.
After seven years of being single, it feels a little strange to have a mate. It’s been a while since I’ve dated and I’m hoping he’ll enjoy himself.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. “It’s been a week. Any tiredness or anything?”
Benjamin shakes his head. “No. Just cramps, but I was having those for a few months before my heat.”
“Are they painful? Did I hurt you earlier?” I think about how rough I was with him and I kick myself for not being more careful.
“No,” he answers, squeezing my hand. “They’re more throbbing than sharp. But I had cramps like this after my last heat. It’s normal.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, but still don’t like that he’s in any pain. “We’ll ask at your next appointment.”
“Yes, Dad,” he says with an eye roll, making me chuckle.
Our server comes over with our food and we dig in. “This is really good,” Benjamin says about some kind of shrimp dish he ordered “Want some?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Gods, no. I don’t like shrimp.”
His mouth drops open. “Really? Are you allergic?”
Shaking my head, I wipe my mouth and place my napkin on the table. “No. I just never liked shrimp. My dad loved them, but they don’t taste good to me.”
“I would say you’re missing out, but you aren’t if they don’t taste good. More for me, I suppose.” I grin and agree.
“What else don’t you like?” Benjamin asks after swallowing.
“Baked potatoes.”
Benjamin’s eyes bug out. “What?” he practically shouts, making a few patrons look at us curiously. “How? They’re delicious.”
“Too much potato.”
He sputters. “Too … much … what? That’s the point of the potato!”
I snicker at how appalled he is. “Yeah, well, that’s why I don’t like them. It makes sense to me.”
“I bet it does, you weirdo. Gods, I’ll need a list of the things I can’t feed you. How am I supposed to cook decent dinners without shrimp and baked potatoes?”
He’s ridiculous. “There are literally thousands of other things you can cook besides those two.”
“Yeah, but I love those.” Benjamin pouts, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms.
