Page 45 of Captured Solace

“Cabernet Sauvignon, please,” I said.

“If you still have that vintage ‘05 Cabernet, please bring her a glass of that,” Viktor said. “And I’ll take an old fashioned, prepared as usual.”

“Of course, I’ll have those out in a moment. And are you ready to order an appetizer, Mr. Anatole?” the waiter asked, keeping his gaze on Viktor.

“Do you still have the baked peppers on the menu?”

“We do, sir.”

“I’ll have that. And if you have the tomato soup, I’ll take that before the main course as well,” he said, sitting back and resting his eyes on me. “What will you have, darling?”

“I don’t have a menu,” I said, looking around.

“They can make whatever you want, within reason,” he said.

I attempted to make eye contact with the waiter, but he kept his gaze steadfastly on my husband. “Do you have any traditional southern appetizers?”

“We do,” the waiter said, glancing up once and then looking down. “May I recommend the pimento cheese bruschetta with olives on the side? It’s a Southern twist on an Italian favorite.”

“Sold,” I said, smiling. “Thank you.”

The waiter dipped his head and disappeared into the main area. I turned to Viktor, unsettled and confused by the interaction.

“Why wouldn’t he look at me?”

“Because you are mine,” he said.

“So? What does that mean?”

“So, you are mine. To anyone who knows who I am and what I do, you are untouchable.”

“You’re very full of yourself.”

“I’m realistic.”

A second waiter appeared with our drinks and I opted to let the subject drop in favor of tasting the wine. The Cabernet was perfect, light and flavorful over my tongue as I sipped it. I was an extreme lightweight and it took less than ten minutes for a pleasant buzz to start at the back of my skull.

I glanced up at my husband and my breath caught as his eyes locked with mine. He leaned back, lifting his drink to his lips, and watched me over the rim. My skin prickled and my nipples hardened against the delicate lace of my bra.

“You know,” I said, emboldened by the wine. “When you look at me like that, I can feel…things.”

He flicked his eyes down and then up again. “What kind of things?”

“My nipples,” I breathed. “They’re hard, I can feel them pressed up against the bra you gave me. And there’s this warmth in my hips that makes me…pulse between my legs. Like a heartbeat.”

“Fuck. Me,” he whispered.

“And my panties, they’re soaked.”

“How soaked?”

I shifted, rocking slightly. “I can feel them rub on my clit when I move. And there’s this…slickness in my pussy.”

His pupils dilated.

I leaned in until my mouth almost touched his throat. I could smell him and feel his heat, scorching my bare throat and shoulders.

“I’ll bet you’d slide right in,” I whispered.

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