the rug would be like erasing all the good times too.
It didn’t matter. After everything, maybe it was all going to be okay.
The host left us, but it was only a moment until a server came to get our orders. “Nos gustaría dos pintas de cerveza y dos tragos de tequila. Cerveza local, por favor,” Casey said slowly. I didn’t know everything he was telling the woman, but I could have listened to it all night.
Cerveza. Beer. I knew that. And tequila was easy enough, but had he always known Spanish? Who was this guy?
The woman who took his order left to get—what I was guessing were—our drinks.
I leaned in to ask conspiratorially, “Do you know Spanish?” I couldn’t help the small laugh that fell out after I asked.
He smiled and said, “No. Not really. I just memorized a few things that I thought we might need.” Then he winked at me and took a sip of his water. “I said I’d take care of you.”
I sat back, corrected. Shocked and a lot turned on. That wink might soon be the death of me.
I was still revved up from the plane, the almost shower, and then hearing him speak Spanish and ordering for me? I knew that Casey, but it was just so different having the man I craved so much in the bedroom act that way while sitting across from me at the table.
“What else did you learn, Señor Moore?” I teased. Laughing came easily. My bones poured themselves into the chair and with my legs crossed tightly I relished looking at a miracle. How could he still want me? How could I be that lucky?
His laughs came easily, too. He pointed a serious finger at me. “It’s no joke, Blake. We don’t speak the language. How did you figure we’d get along?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it. People do it all the time.”
“Well, I’d just much rather know how to say a few things so I know what we’re getting.”
“Okay, tell me what you know and I want to guess what you’re saying.”
Our drinks arrived. A draught and a shot placed before each of us. The server also came armed with a beautiful crystal dish with what looked like candied limes. Then the woman left.
Casey considered the limes and said, in sexy Spanish, with a gleam in his eye, “ Lame. Bebe. Chupa. ”
It was a terrible game. How was I supposed to know what he was saying? “Okay, maybe this wasn’t a great idea. I have no clue,” I admitted.
“I said lick. Drink. Suck.” He was ripe with mischief.
“Ohhh,” I breathed and the temperature in the restaurant went up ten degrees.
“Shall we?”
I reached for a piece of lime and his hand slid over mine, giving it a quick, tight squeeze. I caught his eye and saw warmth, fun, adventure, and something so Casey that I’d never been able to put my finger on. Blue-green eyes sparkled brighter than the beautiful glass chandelier in the lobby.
I brought the lime to my lips but waited for his cue.
“ Lame, ” he said and we both licked at our limes. It was a lot of sensations to handle at once. First, watching his masterful tongue sweep over the fruit. Lucky lime. Then, the taste of sour, salty, and sweet took over my mouth. I mimicked what he did next, lifting the shot glass to my lips.
“ Bebe, ” he said with a quirked eyebrow and we downed the shots.
My tongue reached out and tasted my briny lips as the tequila touched rock bottom. Alcohol and Casey heated my chest.
He bared his teeth after swallowing the liquor and the tendons strained in his neck as he accepted its burn.
“ Chupa, ” he hissed and our limes once again found our mouths. I was hesitant to bite at first, knowing it was going to be an assault of flavor, and I watched him sink into the green citrus. His eyes squeezed tight and when he opened them, he looked like he’d just come out of water. Alive and ready.
I bit into mine and it tasted remarkably good in contrast to the tequila.
As I stared at him unapologetically, my legs rubbed together under the table, aware of his peculiar brand of seduction
It didn’t matter. After everything, maybe it was all going to be okay.
The host left us, but it was only a moment until a server came to get our orders. “Nos gustaría dos pintas de cerveza y dos tragos de tequila. Cerveza local, por favor,” Casey said slowly. I didn’t know everything he was telling the woman, but I could have listened to it all night.
Cerveza. Beer. I knew that. And tequila was easy enough, but had he always known Spanish? Who was this guy?
The woman who took his order left to get—what I was guessing were—our drinks.
I leaned in to ask conspiratorially, “Do you know Spanish?” I couldn’t help the small laugh that fell out after I asked.
He smiled and said, “No. Not really. I just memorized a few things that I thought we might need.” Then he winked at me and took a sip of his water. “I said I’d take care of you.”
I sat back, corrected. Shocked and a lot turned on. That wink might soon be the death of me.
I was still revved up from the plane, the almost shower, and then hearing him speak Spanish and ordering for me? I knew that Casey, but it was just so different having the man I craved so much in the bedroom act that way while sitting across from me at the table.
“What else did you learn, Señor Moore?” I teased. Laughing came easily. My bones poured themselves into the chair and with my legs crossed tightly I relished looking at a miracle. How could he still want me? How could I be that lucky?
His laughs came easily, too. He pointed a serious finger at me. “It’s no joke, Blake. We don’t speak the language. How did you figure we’d get along?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it. People do it all the time.”
“Well, I’d just much rather know how to say a few things so I know what we’re getting.”
“Okay, tell me what you know and I want to guess what you’re saying.”
Our drinks arrived. A draught and a shot placed before each of us. The server also came armed with a beautiful crystal dish with what looked like candied limes. Then the woman left.
Casey considered the limes and said, in sexy Spanish, with a gleam in his eye, “ Lame. Bebe. Chupa. ”
It was a terrible game. How was I supposed to know what he was saying? “Okay, maybe this wasn’t a great idea. I have no clue,” I admitted.
“I said lick. Drink. Suck.” He was ripe with mischief.
“Ohhh,” I breathed and the temperature in the restaurant went up ten degrees.
“Shall we?”
I reached for a piece of lime and his hand slid over mine, giving it a quick, tight squeeze. I caught his eye and saw warmth, fun, adventure, and something so Casey that I’d never been able to put my finger on. Blue-green eyes sparkled brighter than the beautiful glass chandelier in the lobby.
I brought the lime to my lips but waited for his cue.
“ Lame, ” he said and we both licked at our limes. It was a lot of sensations to handle at once. First, watching his masterful tongue sweep over the fruit. Lucky lime. Then, the taste of sour, salty, and sweet took over my mouth. I mimicked what he did next, lifting the shot glass to my lips.
“ Bebe, ” he said with a quirked eyebrow and we downed the shots.
My tongue reached out and tasted my briny lips as the tequila touched rock bottom. Alcohol and Casey heated my chest.
He bared his teeth after swallowing the liquor and the tendons strained in his neck as he accepted its burn.
“ Chupa, ” he hissed and our limes once again found our mouths. I was hesitant to bite at first, knowing it was going to be an assault of flavor, and I watched him sink into the green citrus. His eyes squeezed tight and when he opened them, he looked like he’d just come out of water. Alive and ready.
I bit into mine and it tasted remarkably good in contrast to the tequila.
As I stared at him unapologetically, my legs rubbed together under the table, aware of his peculiar brand of seduction
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