Page 42 of Hot Blooded
Chapter 22
Tressa
Unexpectedly, Reign has invited me on a date, even though he managed to ignore me the past few days. A handwritten notecard had shown up in my bedroom—along with a single red rose and a book of erotic Irish limericks.
I have never been wooed before and my heart is giddy at the prospect that Reign isn’t done with me yet. Maybe he’s forgiven himself for his misstep. Maybe he was going to tell me that we’ll never do that again—but I have my doubts, mostly because I know, somewhere deep down, that in the heat of the moment, I’ll inevitably talk Reign into biting me again. It’s a wicked thought, I know.
Our date is to take place tonight at seven, on the balcony under the stars, overlooking the looming snow-capped mountains in the distance.
The note instructs me to dress for chilly weather, and since we’re in the mountains in Colorado, thankfully my wardrobe mostly consists of warm woolly sweaters. I add fleece leggings and a wool skirt with gold buttons down the front and a pair of tall leather boots.
At a few minutes to seven, I venture downstairs and out onto the deck that’s located off the great room.
Mrs. Potts scurries from view as soon as I step outside. The night air is crisp, but not unpleasant.
Reign is waiting for me at the railing, his back to me as he surveys the forest beyond his estate. He’s dressed in a dark woolovercoat and slacks. His hair has been smoothed into place and the muscles in his shoulders and back cause a little flutter of anticipation to ripple through me.
When my heeled boots click across the wooden planks, he turns immediately.
“Tressa.” A rare smile lifts one side of his mouth. “You look lovely.”
I tip my chin, secretly thrilled by his compliment, but trying to downplay it. “Thank you.”
“Should we take our seats?” He nods toward the table.
“Absolutely.” I make my way over and Reign unexpectedly cuts in beside me to hold out the chair. “Thank you,” I murmur as I lower myself into it.
There’s a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne nestled inside. The meal has been catered and the staff, under Reign’s direction, no doubt, has been thoughtful enough to provide a lovely table, set with crystal and china. There are white strung lights in the pine trees that surround the deck and a couple of large silver heating lamps, that have been strategically placedto keep us warm. Correction, to keepmewarm. I’m pretty sure Reign doesn’t get cold.
A platter of cheese, crackers, and fruit that’s meant to be shared is placed before us.
“Yum. This looks incredible.” My stomach rumbles at the sight.
Reign spreads some camembert onto a toasted cracker and holds it out for me. “Open.”
I do as he says, and allow him to feed me.
I chuckle as I chew, becausehimfeedingmeis entirely unexpected. “Are you going to eat?”
His gaze darkens. “Tressa.”
The sound of my name in his low throaty voice sends spirals of heat rushing through me.
“I just meant some of the spread. Get your mind out of the gutter,” I tease, trying to keep my tone light and even.
He gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. And neither do I, knowing damn well what I want to feed him.
He doesn’t bring up the other night, and neither do I. Instead, I enjoy the delicious food and I fill him in on my progress in the library, and tell him about Lena’s latest art project which has been constructed using only empty water bottles and acrylic paint.
“Fascinating stuff.” He nods, having listened attentively to everything I’ve babbled on about.
To his credit, Reign does eat, and the food is utterly delicious. Lobster ravioli in beurre blanc sauce with asparagus. He takes a few bites while I polish off most of my plate. I certainly have never eaten like this at home. It pairs perfectly with the crisp white wine, and dessert is an individual crème brûlée that knocks my socks off. Reign watches me eat, chuckling at the enthusiastic noises I make. But I can’t help it. Everything is delicious. So far, tonight has been magical.
“I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed food the way you do,” he says when I give a particularly loud moan over the dessert.
I shoot him a warning look, since we’ve apparently silently agreed not to talk anymore about what we obviously both want.
“Should we go inside?” Reign asks, effectively clearing the looming tension hanging over us.
