Page 130 of Torrid Passion
CHAPTER 25
Lochlan
“How was the meal?” I ask.
“Amazing! You can cook.”
“I can barbecue,” I correct.
“Well, it was delicious. And since I can’t make my way around the kitchen or the barbecue, I’m impressed. Thank you,” she says shyly.
It wasn’t a five-star Michelin meal, but there’s nothing quite like marinated shrimp, scallops and lobster on the barbecue. Add to that a few appetizers from White Truffle Take Away, grilled vegetables I prepared this morning, some fresh bread and we were set. I kept dessert simple. Her cousins told me she loves ice cream. This morning, I stopped by Wanderlust Creamery to stock up and I grabbed some freshly baked cookies at ’Nuff Said.
“You had a good day?” I ask.
“Are you kidding me?”
“I’m sure it’s not what you expected and I want to make sure you enjoyed yourself.”
She gives me anexcited nod. “I had a great day.”
“So how was our first date on a scale from one to ten?”
“Hmmm…” she taps her chin, her eyes bouncing from left to right.
“You have to mull it over?” I chuckle.
“No. I wanted to take everything into consideration,” she says with exaggerated seriousness.
“And?” I press.
“The judges score a whopping three hundred!”
“I can live with that.”
“Honestly, Loki, I’m pretty sure our date tops every first date of all time,” she smiles wide.
“Ooof. That’s a tall order. And you didn’t even break a bone.” I reach out for her beautiful face. “And not even a scratch.”
“I can’t believe you kept your promise.”
“I’m a man of my word, my sexy little dumpling.”
That and the fact she held onto me for dear life for the first half hour before she was willing to loosen her tight wrestler’s grip on me.
“You are. And I hate to admit this, but I’d do it again.”
“Told you you’d love it.”
“Nah, I just want to wear the big pink afro wig again,” she laughs.
“By the way, I might have to request you wear the catsuit for a private show later.”
“Are you kidding me? I was sweating like crazy. No one should wear head-to-toe polyester.”
We were drenched when we got back to my place. After dumping everything in the washing machine, we took a long shower. She’s right. Non-breathable fabric is evil… but there’s a payoff. She’s now sitting across from me without a trace of makeup, her hair up in a messy ponytail, and she’s wearing one of my t-shirts and nothing else.
“It was worth it, though,” I say.
