Proud to Serve Her(13)

“Arm candy?” The sudden effusive laugh was exactly what he’d been hoping for. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, no man has ever qualified for my arm candy before….”

“So this makes me your first in that department. Very well. I accept and will do my best to live up to the title.”

A red flush raced over her skin and her eyes glittered. He squeezed her hands lightly before retrieving their wine glasses and topping them off. Pressing her glass into her fingers, he clinked them together. “To a night of many firsts.”

She hesitated and he read the quiet question in her eyes.

“Yes. I meant that exactly how you’re thinking right now.”

Her exhale was swift and she covered the little gasp of sound with a swallow of the wine while he hid a smile behind his own glass. Teasing a response from her would be the greatest pleasure of the night. He couldn’t wait to see her eyes soft and dewy, hear the sweet, explosive breaths as he peeled away the layers of everyday armor to delve into the sensuous woman hiding behind the gray top and sensible skirt. He wanted to find the woman that chose the red-bottom shoes.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She took another swallow of liquid courage and he shifted toward her again, intrigued.

“Absolutely.”

“I wanted you to be my date…even when I thought you were the waiter….”

“Wish granted.” Their glasses clinked again. Her pink cheeks heightened the gleam in her eyes and he nodded toward the food. “Time to close your eyes.”

“Oh…I forgot we were eating.”

The chef in him winced—no one should forget his food, much less eating it. His masculine pride swelled. He’d made her forget the food.

She set the wine glass down and folded her hands in her lap. Her lashes lowered and he shifted his seat again, easing the ache of his too-swollen cock pressing against the cage of his pants. She was so damn responsive.

He’d begun the meal intending to feed her soul.

Now he intended to completely seduce her senses.

“The steak,” he began, “Is a filet, cut thick to allow for a slower cook and richer juices….” When her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips, he forced himself to cut into the meat, but his body longed to thrust into hers, burying himself balls deep until little gasps were all she could make.



“…it’s rubbed with extremely fine grinds of dark and light roasts and cooked slowly over open flame until the juices begin to flow.”

Was it possible for the man to become even sexier? Her mouth watered at the description. Despite the meal she’d already consumed, the cheeses, the wine, the salad with its skirted steak soaked in sweet sin, and the creamy soup, her stomach still tingled in anticipation of what else he offered. The scrape of knife and fork against the plate sent awareness racing across her skin.

Her nipples ached against her normally comfortable bra, the fabric almost too much against the turgid little points. The dampness flooding her panties should embarrass the hell out of her, but all she could think about as she sat, eyes closed, waiting, was whether it was steak he’d offer, or another bliss-filled kiss.

A vague sensation of crazy danced through her mind. Things like this just didn’t happen to her. She was the practical one. Legal briefs, takeout, and episodes of Grey’s Anatomy populated her nights where the doctors spent more time on their love lives than their surgeries.

The rich scent of coffee teased her nostrils and her mouth opened. She expected the offering on the end of a fork, but his thumb caressed her lower lip as she took the bite from his fingertips. Curious, she caught his fingertip lightly with her teeth and lapped the flavor of the coffee-basted steak. The coiling tension in her middle exploded, sending languorous waves through her limbs and she sighed.

He tasted better than the food.

His chuckle sent her temperature climbing, but she didn’t regret the action, releasing him with a half awkward kiss to his thumb before biting into the steak itself. A second wave of explosions rippled across her taste buds and she groaned.

Tender and juicy didn’t do the flavor justice. The filet was warm, soft and seemed to break apart on her tongue. The rich meat flooded her senses, but riding the current above the marriage of blood, flame and smoke was the morning kiss of rich, gourmet coffee. The flavors tangled like a walkthrough between a Starbucks and a steakhouse. Her mind didn’t know what to process first, but she swallowed the piece, torn between regret and anticipation, opening her mouth to ask for more only to find a second bite waiting for her.

He teased her with the last piece and let her draw on his fingers, chuckling as she lapped at the pads of his fingertips before devouring the bite. So they repeated the dance. He never failed to touch her, stroking her cheek, and even grazing her nose with his when he cleaned the dribbles that escaped with feather light kisses.