his next question.
"How long has it been since you've been"—he paused, searching for words—"intimate… with a man?" His deep voice lowered a touch more, enough to send tiny shivers down my spine.
My face fired all the more. "Four years." I grabbed my water glass, taking a long drink, knowing it would do nothing for my flush, but it couldn't hurt to try.
His eyebrows lifted quickly, mouth opened just a hair. Releasing my hand and dropping his fork, he pulled his hands together, resting his chin on them while continuing to study me.
Squirming under the scrutiny, I focused on the uneaten portion of entree.
"You haven't been with a man since you lost your husband?" he clarified.
"No." He stared at me like I'd entered the land of freakhood. Was it so hard to believe?
A few long moments passed before he sat back in his chair, and took a swallow from his tea. His eyes still focused on me, but the corner of his mouth slowly hitched upward.
I peeked up at him from under my lashes, busily playing with my food. He had the silent treatment down pat. I withstood the pressured moments while the hamster inside his mind ran a few laps on the wheel.
Unable to stand it a moment longer, I blurted out, "What?"
His grin only widened.
My brow furrowed as my ire shot up. How annoying. The letch could at least speak. "What is it?"
Mischief sparked in his eyes.
Irritated, I took the opportunity to kick his shin under the table. He jumped and then reached down to rub the spot.
"Hey! None of that," he admonished, pointing his finger at me.
Grumbling, I took a deep breath. "What in the world do you think is funny?"
He leaned forward, amusement still plastered on his face. Reaching out, he took my hand, lifting it to his mouth. A brushing of his lips feathered across my palm. His fingers caressed my wrist and back of the hand as he showed tender affection to the area.
"I think you're an exceptional woman, Shy." He flicked his tongue over my sensitized skin.
A small shiver ran up my spine. Oh, boy.
* * * *
The rest of the dinner passed without incident. I managed not to choke on my food while refraining from bruising his shin at the same time. For his part, Meat kept the flirting to a tolerable level. I didn't put bets on his extraordinary behavior continuing once we left the public place and entered the close confines of his car.
We slid into his Jaguar, the leather seats chilly in the night air. I buckled my seatbelt, as he started the engine.
"Now what do you want to do?"
"I don't know. What do you want to do?" I glanced in his direction.
He grinned widely and waggled his eyebrows. Rolling my eyes, I snorted. "Oh, no. I only promised dinner. That's it. Dinner."
His chuckle sounded loudly across the interior of the car. "Doesn't mean I can't ask or you can't expand that promise."
Muttering to myself, I peered out the side window.
His right hand found a place to rest just above my knee. Looking down, I debated on what to say and do next. He drove with one hand, easily navigating other cars and barriers.
"So, what else do you want to do?" I tried to fill in the silence with more conversation.
"I think dessert is in order." He shot me a grin before returning his attention to the road.
"Dessert?"
"Oh, yeah. Dessert." His sultry voice sent my stomach in a slow, delicious flip.
Perplexed, I watched his face. "Does this involve chocolate and something sweet?"
He laughed once more. Stopping at a traffic light, he squeezed my knee. One eyebrow lifted as his dimple popped out into full view. "Mmmmm." He literally groaned. "Now that's an idea."
My belly fluttered at the declaration. I could have sworn the windows began to steam just from his saucy innuendos and outright seduction. The farther away from the city we drove, the more nervous I became.
Every time I asked where we were going, he answered, "Wait and see."
Isn't this how poor unfortunate women find out their dates and lovers are serial killers? They go out
"How long has it been since you've been"—he paused, searching for words—"intimate… with a man?" His deep voice lowered a touch more, enough to send tiny shivers down my spine.
My face fired all the more. "Four years." I grabbed my water glass, taking a long drink, knowing it would do nothing for my flush, but it couldn't hurt to try.
His eyebrows lifted quickly, mouth opened just a hair. Releasing my hand and dropping his fork, he pulled his hands together, resting his chin on them while continuing to study me.
Squirming under the scrutiny, I focused on the uneaten portion of entree.
"You haven't been with a man since you lost your husband?" he clarified.
"No." He stared at me like I'd entered the land of freakhood. Was it so hard to believe?
A few long moments passed before he sat back in his chair, and took a swallow from his tea. His eyes still focused on me, but the corner of his mouth slowly hitched upward.
I peeked up at him from under my lashes, busily playing with my food. He had the silent treatment down pat. I withstood the pressured moments while the hamster inside his mind ran a few laps on the wheel.
Unable to stand it a moment longer, I blurted out, "What?"
His grin only widened.
My brow furrowed as my ire shot up. How annoying. The letch could at least speak. "What is it?"
Mischief sparked in his eyes.
Irritated, I took the opportunity to kick his shin under the table. He jumped and then reached down to rub the spot.
"Hey! None of that," he admonished, pointing his finger at me.
Grumbling, I took a deep breath. "What in the world do you think is funny?"
He leaned forward, amusement still plastered on his face. Reaching out, he took my hand, lifting it to his mouth. A brushing of his lips feathered across my palm. His fingers caressed my wrist and back of the hand as he showed tender affection to the area.
"I think you're an exceptional woman, Shy." He flicked his tongue over my sensitized skin.
A small shiver ran up my spine. Oh, boy.
* * * *
The rest of the dinner passed without incident. I managed not to choke on my food while refraining from bruising his shin at the same time. For his part, Meat kept the flirting to a tolerable level. I didn't put bets on his extraordinary behavior continuing once we left the public place and entered the close confines of his car.
We slid into his Jaguar, the leather seats chilly in the night air. I buckled my seatbelt, as he started the engine.
"Now what do you want to do?"
"I don't know. What do you want to do?" I glanced in his direction.
He grinned widely and waggled his eyebrows. Rolling my eyes, I snorted. "Oh, no. I only promised dinner. That's it. Dinner."
His chuckle sounded loudly across the interior of the car. "Doesn't mean I can't ask or you can't expand that promise."
Muttering to myself, I peered out the side window.
His right hand found a place to rest just above my knee. Looking down, I debated on what to say and do next. He drove with one hand, easily navigating other cars and barriers.
"So, what else do you want to do?" I tried to fill in the silence with more conversation.
"I think dessert is in order." He shot me a grin before returning his attention to the road.
"Dessert?"
"Oh, yeah. Dessert." His sultry voice sent my stomach in a slow, delicious flip.
Perplexed, I watched his face. "Does this involve chocolate and something sweet?"
He laughed once more. Stopping at a traffic light, he squeezed my knee. One eyebrow lifted as his dimple popped out into full view. "Mmmmm." He literally groaned. "Now that's an idea."
My belly fluttered at the declaration. I could have sworn the windows began to steam just from his saucy innuendos and outright seduction. The farther away from the city we drove, the more nervous I became.
Every time I asked where we were going, he answered, "Wait and see."
Isn't this how poor unfortunate women find out their dates and lovers are serial killers? They go out
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