Page 16 of Bearly Breathing

Her face was burning, and she bit her lip wishing she could take back the last few minutes of their time together.

Leya had never felt such a powerful attraction to a man before, and she had to ruin it with her idiotic confession. He wasn’t blind, he could see what she looked like! And yet he still asked you to dinner.

As she mulled over whether or not to bolt for the door, he placed his large hand over hers and leaned forward dwarfing the small round table where they were seated. She had no choice but to look at him as it seemed he wasn’t going to release her hand until she did.

Oh boy, might as well get this over with, she thought before looking him squarely in the eyes. She’d been friend-zoned often enough to read the signs.

He was definitely about to tell her she was a great gal and didn’t need to worry about her weight with him. Yadda yadda. She swallowed her disappointment and sat facing him.

If only he wasn’t so good to look at. Oh well. As if reading her thoughts, he dropped his gaze and boldly swept his eyes over the mounds of flesh that were revealed in the snug top of the dress she wore.

Leya felt hot all over from that stare. His brown eyes darkened to almost black as his stare seemed to penetrate the table top, the dress, anything that was in the way.

It was as if he was looking at her naked. An idea that she found she didn’t quite mind. Well, that’s certainly different.

“Leya, I don’t know who’s been feeding you that line of garbage and, believe me when I say I would gladly pound every single one of them to a bloody pulp if you’d like, but first things first,” his voice was gravelly and deep.

She could hardly keep up with what he was saying, especially, when his thumb was running over the top of her hand in slow seductive circles that made her want to drool. Spit it out, buddy, before I embarrass myself!

“You look exactly the way a woman should look. Baby, you are incredible,” his voice went even deeper as he traced every visible line of her body with those molten eyes of his.

Leya released the breath she’d been holding. Her entire body seemed to sizzle with awareness. Small trembles danced along her skin under the heat of his penetrating gaze. Did he mean it?

He sure looked like he did. He didn’t release her hand, not even when the waiter came and left their menus on the table. She hardly noticed, captivated by what he’d said, what he was still saying with his eyes and that wicked thumb of his.

He wants me.Me! She felt hot all over at the realization, powerful and indescribably sexy for the first time in her life. Desire flared between them. No doubt, her entire body was turning beet red under her clothes.

Even her breasts seemed to warm and swell at his words. He moved his thumb to the soft side of her wrist, and Leya’s lips parted. When had a touch, any touch, never mind one as innocent as this one, caused such delicious friction inside of her?

She waited as he leaned even closer to her. Okay, not friend-zoned, but what now, she thought. Marcus looked as if he was about to say something, but the waiter interrupted them.

He leaned back in his chair, but not before lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing her fingertips. He lifted the menu and spoke. His voice a deep rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

“Do you mind if I go ahead?”

“With what?” She sounded breathless, but she didn’t care. No one had ever looked at her or talked to her quite like that.

“With ordering, for the two of us?”

“Oh, sure, that’s fine,” she smiled.

It was old-fashioned, but Leya kind of liked it. Besides, there wasn’t a dish she’d met that she didn’t like. She sat back and listened as this gorgeous stranger proceeded to order for them both. Well, she quickly learned he had good taste in food at least.

He ordered a chilled seafood tower that promised exquisite delicacies such as raw oysters, clams, boiled shrimp, crab legs, and lobster claws. Next, they were to sample some of the hotel’s famous conch chowder, followed by broiled Chilean sea bass served with a creamy spinach risotto on the side.

Then he finished the order with two chocolate soufflés with vanilla sauce for dessert. He had to order those ahead since the kitchen needed time to prepare them.

“Wow,” she said.

“What? Did you want something else?”

“Um, no, I think even I might have trouble putting all that away!”

“Whatever you don’t want, I’ll finish, I have quite the appetite,” his barely veiled innuendo sent a wave of heat right to her belly and lower.

The mood lightened a touch when the first dishes arrived. They laughed and talked throughout the entire meal. She loved the way he served her himself, shooing the waiter away when he would have done the job.

It was as if he took pride in filling her plate and when she was uncertain if she liked something, he lifted the fork to her lips himself to allow her to decide before he served her more.

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