I completely forgot about everything but my cake as I continued to scoop bite after bite, savoring each and every mouthful, closing my eyes and moaning, groaning, or humming with every morsel. I got down to my last bite, pausing to lick the chocolate off my fork, when I opened my eyes to find Luke staring at me, his eyes half-closed, nostrils flared, white knuckled hands gripping the edge of the able, and his lips set in a grim line.
Uh oh.
I blinked and asked sheepishly, “Want some?” (Again hoping that he’d say no)
Luke didn’t say a word, just barely shook his head from side to side, giving me the all clear to finish it myself (Yay!). Still holding his gaze, I briefly wondered if I’d embarrassed myself, or even Luke, eating like starving pig, but couldn’t stop myself from scooping the last bite up to my lips and then scraping the plate clean of any traces of chocolate remaining.
Before I’d even set my fork down, Luke grabbed his wallet, threw some bills down on the table, stood up and said, “We’re done. Let’s go.”
We left the restaurant and headed to Luke’s car. He didn’t touch me once, and we didn’t speak as we got in, he started the car, and pulled out into the street. He wouldn’t even look my way as we sat in silence. My cheeks were flaming in mortification as I thought about how much of an ass I had made of myself at dinner. I shouldn’t have ordered dessert, and I for damn sure shouldn’t have ignored him while I made love to a piece of cake sitting in a restaurant. Even though it was still relatively early, only nine o’clock, I assumed that he was taking me directly home. I wasn’t wrong.
Swallowing my disappointment in myself and battling tears of embarrassment, I turned to Luke to thank him for the evening as we pulled up in front of my house. Before I could open my mouth, he got out, came around and opened my door. He walked me up to the door, lightly clasping my fingers in his. I guess manners still win out over disgust.
I turned to tell him good night, leaning back against my front door, and found him watching me closely.
“Ummm…well…thanks for a nice evening, Luke,” I said.
“Its not over, Emma,” Luke replied.
Erm. Its not? Holy shit!
“Ask me in.” It wasn’t a question, and I found myself gaping at him in disbelief, unable to comprehend why he would want to prolong this any longer.
I finally forced my lips to move. “Come in? I…I’m sure I could find a bottle of wine or something…”I trailed off, not sure exactly what to say. I mean, my cha-chi was screaming, ‘Yes! Come in! We’re open!’, but there’s no way in hell that’s what he was thinking. Right?
Luke followed me through the door into the living room. I turned to shut the door, locking it behind us out of habit. As my fingers slipped away from the dead bolt, I became aware of Luke’s hard heat pressing close behind me. I felt him lightly stroke the backs of his fingers down my cheek and my breath caught in my throat. He leaned further into me, pressing me against the door. My head fell back against his shoulder as I felt his lips trace the side of my throat before lightly nipping my earlobe.
“Mmmm…,” Luke whispered in my ear. “You taste as good as you look.”
Then, pulling back from me, I heard him walk further into the room and sit on the couch. I stayed where I was for a second, trying to convince my legs to work before turning to look at him. He looked so good lounging on my couch that, for a second, I contemplated kidnapping him and holding him hostage as my personal sex slave for the rest of my life.
“Uh, I’ll get something to drink for us,” I said before heading towards the kitchen. Luke
said nothing in reply, just smiled.
I rummaged absent-mindedly in the cabinet and in the fridge, finding a half-empty bottle of Ice Wine that I picked up on my last trip to Put In Bay, and an unopened bottle of tequila. Shrugging, I grabbed two shot glasses and a lime from the fridge, making a mental note to pick more up at the store so I could still make my tequila lime chicken for dinner one night. I quickly sliced a few wedges from the lime, picked up the salt and the bottle of tequila, and headed back to the living room, figuring I’d drown my embarrassment and subsequent confusion in liquor.
“Shots,” I said, unnecessarily, as I deposited my load on the coffee table in front of Luke.
“Alright.” Luke said.
Leaning forward, Luke poured two shots into the shot glasses, then picked up the salt shaker, turning to me and grabbing my hand. His eyes burned into mine as he slowly lifted my hand to his mouth and I felt the warmth of his breath on my skin before his tongue touched me in the curve between my thumb and forefinger. I couldn’t control the small gasp that shot from between my lips at the unexpected touch.
He then lightly shook the salt over the dampness left behind from his mouth (I ignored the granules that missed my hand and fell into the couch and carpet…well, I told myself to, anyway) before setting down the shaker, grabbing a lime wedge and bringing it to my lips. He pressed the cold fruit against my lips, wordlessly entreating me to take it in my mouth. I held it gently between my lips, waiting for his next move. He grabbed one of the shots from the table, pulled my hand to him, licked the salt from my skin, and tossed back the tequila before sliding his hand behind my neck and pulling me to him.
I moaned softly as his lips closed over mine, tasting the tartness of the lime burst on my tongue as he bit gently into the fruit before pulling back from my mouth. I opened my eyes and looked at him in confusion because I still had the lime wedge in my mouth; he hadn’t taken it. I reached up and removed the wedge from my lips and before I could even lean forward to place the spent peel on the table, Luke moved like lightning, drawing me hard against him and boldly swiping his tongue against the seam of my lips before sliding inside when I gasped. He kissed me deeply, and I tasted the tanginess of lime and the tart bite of tequila on his tongue.
I dropped the lime husk from my hand, not caring when it landed on the carpet before running my hands up Luke’s arms to tangle my fingers in his hair. I loved the feel of it in my hands, so soft and thick, adding another sensation to the already overwhelming tide drowning me in seduction. The silver ring piercing his lower lip pressed against mine, the contrast of its cool hardness against my heated skin driving me wild.
We broke the kiss, both of us breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together as we gazed into each other’s eyes. He lightly skimmed his fingers up my arms to where my fingers were still tangled in his hair, wincing slightly as my fingers tightened convulsively before releasing it from my grasp.
I blushed, muttering, “Sorry.”
“Its ok,” Luke said. “I like knowing that I have that effect on you.” His voiced dropped an octave as he leaned in again. “Its only fair for what you do to me.”
Whuh? What I do to him? What the fuck has he been smoking?
I sat back against the arm of the couch, watching him guardedly as he looked at me with hooded eyes, his lips curved up at the corners in a lazy smile.
“It’s your shot, sugar,” Luke drawled.
I blinked owlishly at him, trying to get my wits together but failing miserably. How can he be so calm? I sat up and grabbed the shot, not wasting any time with the salt or lime, and downed it. Yikes. That was a mistake, because that shit burns! I choked on a cough as my eyes watered and, feeling like a moron, I felt Luke’s hand pound my back. I finally caught my breath and held up my hand so that Luke would quit pounding on me before I looked over at him, blushing furiously.