“You clean up pretty nicely yourself,” she said playfully. “And this food looks delicious.”
“Well, hopefully it tastes just as good.”
I watched her put the wine glass to her lips. One sip turned into two, and two turned into three. She put the glass down and held her hand underneath her chin and I chuckled as a dribble trickled down her skin. She reached for her napkin and quickly dabbed at it, her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade.
“I have no idea where you got that wine, but it’s not from around here,” she said.
“Do you like it?” I asked.
“It’s incredible. It’s one of the best wines I’ve ever had. Though that’s not saying much. Usually the wines I buy have screwed-on caps.”
“I’m glad you like it,” I said.
I wasn’t just glad she liked it. I was elated she liked it. She tore through two glasses of it before she finished her broccoli. I watched her carefully, cutting into my filet mignon as she took her first bite of the crab legs.
Watching her eyes roll into the back of her head brought me so much pride.
“You really have to teach me how to cook,” she said.
“I don’t know. That pasta dish you made was pretty good,” I said.
“But this is an entirely different level. Are you a chef or something?”
“Or something.”
“I don’t know what you actually do, but you need to stop it and open a restaurant.”
“Then maybe I’ll take you up on that offer,” I said with a grin. “More wine?”
“Mmm, yes please,” she said, humming.
She moaned and groaned over the steak and the sounds were becoming very distracting in the most enjoyable way. She licked her lips whenever the juiciness of the filet got to be too much and my cock wanted to bust out of my jeans. I gripped my silverware tightly, my eyes taking the time to study her. To take her all in.
Fuck me, I was glad I’d stayed.
“This is really good,” Michelle said. “Thank you so much.”
“Only the best for the best,” I said.
Her eyes flickered up to mine before a small smile crossed her cheeks.
“I’m glad you decided to stay,” Michelle said.
“I am, too.”
“Because otherwise I would’ve missed having my own personal in-house chef.”
“Well I’m glad something about me would have been missed.”
“I would’ve missed more than that,” she said. “But food always comes first here.”
“Then what else would you have missed?” I asked.
I slid my foot to rest against hers underneath the table.
“I would’ve missed your smile,” she said. “And your eyes.”
“Oh really?” I asked as I inched my toe up her ankle.