Page 72 of Deal Breaker
She shrugs, all innocence. “Small table.”
“Sure.” I wink.
“Is that why you chose this place? For its close quarters? You always did do your research. Take a look if you want—I can barely cross my legs without my foot ending up in your lap.”
I arch a brow. “I’m not opposed to that. And believe me, I’ve been looking at your legs since we got here.”
She takes a slow sip of wine, which does nothing to hide the fact that her cheeks are suddenly flushed. “I thought you were always more of an eyes guy.”
“I’m ayouguy.”
That gets her. She presses her lips together like she’s trying not to smile, but it slips out anyway. And I swear to God, that smile? I’d burn this place down for it.
“You’ve gotten better at this.”
“At what?” I ask, taking note of the way she’s leaned toward me, the way her eyes are locked on mine.
“The flirting. The teasing. The…” she gestures at me with a little wave of her fingers, “all of this.”
“I’ve had a lot of time, thinking about what I’d do if I ever saw you again.”
She tilts her head, one finger slowly circling the rim of her wine glass. “And?”
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see. I’m still deciding which part to act on first.”
“Start with dessert,” she says, smirking. “Then we’ll talk.”
Just then, the server arrives with our food, cutting the moment short. Landyn settles back into her seat like this isn’t the most sexually charged meal I’ve had in my life. Her bare leg brushes mine under the table again, and I don’t move. I want her to feel me. Want her to know I’m right here, watching her, thinking about how that mouth of hers looks around a fork.
She takes another delicate bite of her salmon, pausing when she catches me staring at her.
“What’s that look for?” she asks suspiciously.
I shrug. “Didn’t peg you for the refined type. You’re cutting that fish like we’re at a Michelin-starred restaurant. No offense to Wave and Warf.”
She lifts her chin. “I have layers.”
“You definitely do.” I spear a bite of my steak, lean forward, and offer it across the table. “You need to try this.”
Her eyes narrow playfully. “I thought you don’t share?”
“Just sayah, June.”
She rolls her eyes but opens her mouth. Slowly. Deliberately, and when she leans in and wraps her lips around the bite, I swear every muscle in my body locks up.
She hums as she chews, her eyes briefly closing. “Mmm. That’s so good.”
And just like that, my cock gets hard.
We go back to eating—well, she does. I mostly just sithere and try to pretend that I’m not three seconds from pulling her over the table and tasting that damn wine off her lips. She wipes the corner of her mouth with a napkin, eyes flashing. “You’re quiet.”
“Just working on my self-control.”
She leans back, slow and confident. “And how’s that going?”
I rest my forearm on the table, hand close to hers, not touching. “Ask me in an hour.”
She bites her lip, and for once, she doesn’t respond with a quick comeback. She just looks at me like she wants the same thing I do and it’s not just dinner.
