Page 70 of Recon Rendezvous

Nodding, he clasps his hands in front of his body. “Very good. Please follow me.”

Waving a hand, I gesture for London to walk ahead of me, my hand immediately coming down to rest on her ass and she gives a little wiggle, shooting me a wink over her shoulder.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I bury my nose in her hair, whispering, “You’re looking too delectable for me to keep my hands to myself.”

Our waiter stands, waiting patiently at an elevator. “We’ve prepared our private viewing room for you. This elevator will take you up to the next floor. Please settle in and someone will be with you in a few moments.”

Slapping a few bills into his hand, we thank him before he sends us to the next floor. The room is a decent size for a small party. The walls are made completely of glass and offer us boundless views of the entire restaurant and kitchen below.

The main dining room is awash in luxurious textures, including pink velvet and white marble, paired with gold accents. Gold open face shelving lines the wall behind the bar that runs the length of the far-right wall. The bar is covered in a stone of pale pinks and creams, golds and yellows and gold inlay and gold stools.

Our white marble dining table again captures the decadence of this evening with an array of gold candelabras with pale pink candles, and pink and white bouquets in ornate gold vases. Everything about this place screams London and I’m happy,for once, someone’s online reviews and pictures are not just accurate but exceed expectations.

The table erected in the center of the room gives us a bird’s eye view of the team below bustling around the kitchen pulling trays from the industrial ovens to cool. Before I can pour up the champagne chilling on the table, another waiter appears, stepping off the elevator.

Removing the bottle from my hands, he prepares two glasses. “Mr. and Mrs. Grant.” A small squeak of protest falls from London’s lips, but I keep my eyes trained on the waiter.

“I’m here to answer any questions you may have while they prepare your tasting.” He gestures below. “I must say, we’re excited to create everything on the menu, as requested. Please feel free to observe our chefs below and enjoy.” He nods before returning to the elevator.

Wide eyes meet mine and we stare at each other as the whir of the elevator slips through the room.

“Mr. and Mrs. Grant?”

I shrug, wanting to tell her I like the sound of it, but that may just push her away.

If it’s possible, her eyes grow even larger, and I make the decision to move things along. Swiping the menu from the table, I flip it over, holding it up for my lovely date to peruse.

The dramatic intake of breath that’s pulled from London is hilarious as she stares at the thick pale pink and gold cardstock with the tasting menu.

“Xan,” she whispers, “this is all so incredible, but I don't want them to have to do any extra work for us.”

“Don't you worry, babycakes. For one, you deserve it all. But the chef, she’s such a boss and guaranteed tonight wouldn’t be a problem. Besides, doesn’t it sound cool to say, we'll take everything on the menu? I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Her laugh pulls me in and all I can think about is getting our bodies closer. “Stick with me, baby. I'll get you so high and not just on sugar. I got something special for you with all the cream filling.”

“Damn it. Way to ruin our night,” she says, as her arms come around my neck.

As if on cue, soft melodic music flows through unseen speakers. Etta James,At Last. How fitting.

“You were saying?” I ask, as she sways with me, following my lead.

Her cheek goes to my chest as she whispers, “You know how to make my night. It’s been perfect.”

My eyes close as I breathe her in, filling my lungs with her jasmine scent, savoring the feel of her in my arms.

Locked in this embrace, our bodies fitting together perfectly, the ding of the elevator barely registers. Meeting the waiter’s eyes, I nod toward the table, not for one second ready for this moment to end. Placing the covered tray on the table, he leaves quickly, as my eyes close and I pull her closer to me.

“Oh my gosh, stud. I can’t fit another thing in here.” She pats her stomach.” I am going to burst,” London says as she pushes her plate of the delectable Tarte Tatin aside. I don’t blame her. We’ve probably sampled fifteen desserts so far.

I'm right there with her. I'm going to need some extra time in the pool and add some weight training to my schedule this week to undo the damage I just did.

“Do you want to put that to the test?” I waggle my eyebrows at her, suggestion heating up in my gaze.

“Don’t do it,” she cries, covering her ears.

Pushing away from the table, I pat my lap. “I got something to fill you up. Come sit on Daddy’s dick.”

“Absolutely not. What did I tell you about your mouth? You’re a ruiner of fun,” she says without any heat. Her pretty pout makes me want to pull her into a kiss and never come up for air.

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