Mmmmm, mmm, mmm.
Satisfied, I plop back down, settling into my cushy dinner seat. Silently, I calmly lay the napkin across my lap and sink back into my chair, trying to get comfortable. I shoot Collin a long, meaningful look across the table.
He looks about as dazed as I feel.
I grasp my wine glass with unsteady fingers and take a casual sip. “Was that a snooze-fest?”
“Uh…” Collin un-fists the tablecloth and smooths out the creases. “I don’t know. We should probably do it again to make sure.”
I tsk, giving my head a shake. “Let’s save some of that mystery for later, shall we?”
“I thought you’d be more like Rachel,” he huffs with a pout but gives me a wink. “If I start calling you Rachel, will you start acting like her?”
“In my book, Rachel and Devon had sex on the table during one of their dates, remember?” I point out. “No offense, but I think I’d rather sit and eat this sourdough bread.” I set down my glass and pull a slice of bread from the loaf. “Wait. Having sex on the table tonight wasn’t part of your plan, was it?”
A loud, obnoxious snort fills the room. “No! God no—I was trying to surprise you by doing something romantic. I mean… unless you want me to bend you over the table. Shit, sorry, that was…” Chagrined, he blushes and starts over. “You know, this date is the best idea I’ve ever come up with. And you’re the one that came up with it. The details were easy to recreate. Wine. Food. Flowers.”
Speaking of flowers… “Do you even know what any of these colors mean?”
“The color of the roses? Yeah, I Googled it.” Collin takes a drink of Chardonnay. “Red means love, or in this case, passion. Yellow means friendship—or a new beginning.” My face reddens as he prattles on. “And peach means closing the deal.”
“What about the purple one? That’s not in the book.” I already know what it means because I had researched their meanings too, but I ask anyway. Just to see if he’ll say it.
He hesitates. “Promise you won’t freak out?”
I roll my eyes and tease. “Nothing you do would surprise me at this point; you’re like a loose cannon. Besides, I’m destined to be a famous writer of smutty romance—it’s impossible to shock me.”
Hair flip.
He gives a jerky nod, steeling up his courage. Him. This handsome hunk of man, nervous. Imagine that. “Alright, smartass. Lavender means enchantment.” His voice deepens. “Tabitha Thompson, I’m without a doubt enchanted by you.”
Lavender roses also mean love at first sight, but I don’t say it. Can’t say it.
He must know it, too.
Must.
The blush creeps from my cheeks then lower to my chest, over my body, down to my legs. I’m blushing everywhere—from the roots of my hair to the tips of my red painted toenails.
My lips part and I muster a feeble, “Do you Google everything?”
He’s not fooled by my casual countenance—not one bit. His beautiful hazel eyes wrinkle at the corners in amusement. “Pretty much.”
“Maybe you should stay off the internet,” I suggest quietly.
“Maybe I should.” He leans back in his dinner seat and crosses his arms, the blue dress shirt stretching and straining over his muscles. “But then again, maybe I shouldn’t. I’m always amazed at what I find.”
His underlying meaning makes me shiver—and not from the cool air being pumped into the room. Oh boy. Is it hot in here? Waiter! Oh, waiter! Could someone bring me a fan, or a pitcher of water to pour down my pants?
Or maybe that’s his line.
“And what did you find when you Googled me?”
“Well, Tabitha Thompson—did you know if you google Tabitha Thompson, a whole history of accomplishments pop up? Track and Field scholarship. Summa Cum Laude. A random picture from a Greek Formal you went to.” He reaches forward and picks a small baby carrot off his plate, popping it in his mouth. “Sexy dress, by the way.”
I look down at my outfit, my eyes hitting my generous cleavage. “This one, or the one I wore to Greek formal?”
“Both.” His eyes do a leisurely, appreciative scan of my exposed clavicle and the swell of my breasts.
I stab blindly at the plate in front of me with my fork, spearing a hunk of seafood and stuffing it in my mouth so I don’t have to reply.
Classy, right?
I swallow and say, “How did you know these were my favorite foods?”
“Easy.” Collin smiles. “Your brother through my sister. And the best part is, they’re my favorite foods, too.”
We continue eating in silence, giving each other furtive glances over wine and steak and lobster. When dessert comes—crème brûlée and banana cream pie, more of my favorites—we share, wordlessly passing the plates and spoons back and forth between us like we’ve been dating for years.
Heaven. Every mouthwatering bite. Every delicious time our eyes meet.
We sip wine, falling into easy conversation. So easy. Natural. Relaxed. Collin grabs my hand and finds my knee under the table with his other, giving my smooth skin slow, gentle strokes until I’m biting my lip and looking away.
Then we’re leaning into each other across the tiny table, our knees touching, our lips pressing together. My eyes flutter closed as Collin’s hand finds my inner thigh, the other finding the nape of my neck, pulling me in closer. Sweetly. Hungrily.
Aroused.
Our mouths part and our tongues touch, exploring deliberately. An unhurried pleasure that sends a shockwave of desire between my legs and surging through my body.
This isn’t just a kiss; this is an unspoken invitation for something more. More meaningful. Full of surrender.
I will worship you, the kiss whispers.
I will be good to you, the kiss promises.
It doesn’t last long. Collin pulls away first, resting his forehead against mine, stroking the underside of my jaw with his thumb.
He’s breathing hard.
I’m breathing hard.
“Tabitha.” His voice is a low, gravelly plead. “Tabitha, come home with me.”
I will worship you…
I will be good to you…
I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s too soon to be intimate. But I know if I don’t…
I’ll regret it.
I give a barely perceivable nod. “Yes.”
Yes.
Blare Wellborn did not sleep around. Didn’t do one-night stands. Didn’t sleep with men on the first date. But as she looked across the table at him, the only sensible thought running through her mind was… nothing. There were no sensible thoughts, only need and want and desperation. For him. For Collin Adam.
He slid his hand across her knee. “Blare, come home with me.” All she could do was nod, the words lost in her throat. When he got her home she would see to it that he worshipped the column of the smooth skin there—her favorite spot to be kissed.
“You want me to come home with you? I want to, but… I barely know you. We’ve only known each other, what—three weeks?”
He leans in and presses a kiss to her chin. “Blare Wellborn, I am enchanted by you.” With those seven words, all her fears melted away…
Greyson: What’s going on? Hello! I haven’t heard from you in days…
Tabitha: Sorry! I’m sorry. Work has been so busy.
Greyson: Busy? I hate when people say that. Busy is just an excuse.
Tabitha: You’re right—I haven’t been THAT busy, but I do have a confession to make.
Greyson: A confession?! I like the sound of that!
Tabitha: The truth is, I’ve been spending some time with your, um.
Greyson: My, um… what?
Tabitha: I’ve been spending time with Collin. Your brother.
Greyson: WHAT? Since when? What kind of time?! How! What? LOL. I mean—WOW! In a good way!!!!!!!
Tabitha: Phew. I was kind of worried.
Greyson: Are you kidding me? You’re amazing. He’s awesome (most of the time)! My second and third favorite people. Cal is obviously my FIRST favorite… dating! Love it.
Tabitha: Not dating, just thinking about it?
Greyson: So where are you right now? What are you doing tonight?
Tabitha: We just went to dinner and now we’re… uh… heading to his condo?
Greyson: RIGHT NOW???? This very second??? Is he there with you?
Tabitha: Yes? Is that bad? I’m so nervous my hands are shaking.
Greyson: Tabitha Elizabeth Thompson, you’d better be “dating” if you’re HEADED TO HIS CONDO at eleven o’clock on a Saturday night!!!! Do I need to Mom lecture you about “safety”? cough cough
Tabitha: Oh god, please don’t.
Greyson: I’m not ready for nieces and nephews yet, just so you know. Even if he is 26. Nevermind—I’ll take a niece…
Tabitha: NO. Just no!
Greyson: Alright, I’ll stop, but only on one condition: you tell me everything later. Well, not EVERYTHING…
Tabitha: It’s a deal. <3 you
Greyson: <3
We don’t go through the pretense of wanting after-dinner drinks when we arrive at my condo, don’t make small talk in my living room, don’t loiter in the kitchen.
I bypass a tour entirely, assuming she took one during my housewarming party, and lead her by the hand up the stairs to the master bedroom. I give it a squeeze when I push open the double doors, and she steps over the threshold first, walking to the bed, sitting, and crossing her legs.