now quickly deteriorated into ful -on touch-me-touch-me-now, and I was al for it. My entire body turned toward him, my legs nestling in between his
as his fingers found my skin—the skin just above the hem of my dress. We were kissing, kissing al -out Hol ywood style. Slow, sloppy, wet, and
wonderful. My head tilted so I could kiss him more deeply, my tongue sliding against his, leading and then letting him lead. He tasted like sweet and
salt and lemons, and it was al I could do not to grab him by his pretty linen shirt and have my way with him on top of the bar—but in a very ladylike
way, mind you.
I heard someone clearing their throat, and I opened my eyes to see my sexy sapphires, then an embarrassed host.
“Excuse me, señor, your table is ready?” he asked, careful y averting his eyes from our display in his very romantic, but stil very public,
restaurant.
I might have moaned a little as Simon removed his hands from my legs and turned my chair so I could stand. Taking my hands and pul ing me,
he smirked as I wobbled on my feet a bit. He grinned at the bartender.
“Oysters, man, oysters.” Simon laughed a little as we shuffled off to our table. I was ready to let out an indignant huff until I saw him discreetly
adjust himself. I was not the only one feeling the slow burn…
I stuffed my huff and smiled serenely, lowering my eyes just enough so he knew I knew. As we arrived at our table, Simon pul ed out my chair for
me. As he scooted me in, I let my hand drift back just enough to accidental y-on-purpose graze him, feeling how worked up he was. I heard him hiss,
and I smiled inwardly. Just as I went in for graze number two, he grasped my hand tightly in his own, pressing himself against me. My breath caught
in my throat as I felt him harden further under our hands.
“Do I need to change your name to Naughty Girl?” he murmured, low and thick in my ear. I closed my eyes and tried to get control as he sat
across from me, grinning in a devilish way. As our waiter busied himself around us, straightening the linens and presenting menus, I only had eyes
for Simon, cocksure and beautiful, across the table from me. This meal was going to take forever.
The meal did take forever, but as much as I was aching to get Simon alone again, I also never wanted this night to end. We were served a
beautiful pael a, coastal style with chunks of prawns and spiny lobster, chorizo, and peas. Made in the traditional way, almost impossible to
recreate, the simple shal ow dish it had been cooked in al owed the saffron rice on the bottom to become crunchy and nutty—delicious in every
sense of the word. We’d finished a lovely bottle of rosé and were now lazily sipping tiny glasses of Ponche Cabal ero, a Spanish brandy with hints
of orange and cinnamon.
The liquor was spicy as I rol ed it around in my mouth. I was pleasantly warm and more pleasantly tipsy. Not drunk, just heady enough that I was
hyperaware of my surroundings and found anything and everything sensual: the way the smooth brandy slipped down my throat, the feel of Simon’s
leg against my own under the table, the way my body had begun to hum. The entire population, it seemed, was out and about tonight and in a
celebratory mood for the festival kicking off in the center of town. The energy was raw and a little wild. I sat back in my chair, teasing Simon with my
big toe, a sil y smile on my face as he stared at me hard.
“I ate your pael a once,” he said suddenly.
“Pardon me?” I sputtered, catching the drop of brandy on my lip before it rol ed off onto my dress.
“In Tahoe, remember? You made us al pael a.”
“Right, right, I did. Not like we had tonight, but it was pretty good.” I smiled, thinking of that night. “As I recal , we polished off quite a bit of wine
as wel .”
“Yes, we ate pael a and drank wine, got the others together, and then you kissed me.”
“We did, and yes, I did.” I blushed.
“And then I acted like an ass,” he replied, his blush present now as wel .
“You did,” I agreed with a smile.
“You know why, right? I mean, you have to know that I, wel , that I wanted you. You do know that, right?”
“It was pressed against my leg, Simon. I was aware.” I laughed, trying to play it off, but stil thinking of how I’d felt when I ran away from him in
that hot tub.
“Caroline, come on now,” he chided, his eyes serious.
“Come on now, yourself. It real y was pressed against my leg.” I laughed again, a little weaker this time.
“That night? Jesus, it would have been so easy, you know? At that moment even I wasn’t total y sure why I stopped us. I think I just knew that…”
“You knew that?” I prompted.