“This looks amazing,” I say, genuinely impressed. “Thank you so much for going to all this trouble.”
“It was no trouble. I enjoy cooking for people.” Our eyes lock, and something unspoken seems to pass between us, and I feel my nervousness melt away.
“I appreciate it anyway. I don’t think anyone has ever put so much thought into making dinner for me. It feels really good.”
He shoots me a bashful smile.
“Cheers,” I say after he sits down.
“Cheers,” he responds, holding up his glass.
We exchange another smoldering look, and I am absolutely dying to kiss him.
Fortunately, I’m able to distract myself with dinner. I can’t stop the moan that escapes me at the first taste of the risotto. “God, this is amazing,” I say, and when I open my eyes, Dylan is staring at me with obvious hunger, and not the kind that will be sated with risotto, no matter how delicious. His cheeks are flushed bright red, and I watch as his tongue darts out, licking across his bottom lip. I don’t think he means for it to be sexy, butholy fuck, itsois.
“Incredible,” I say. The flush on his cheeks goes even darker, and suddenly, even I’m not sure whether I’m talking about the risotto or something else. Right now, it seems like every word coming out of my mouth is loaded with sexy innuendo.
Dylan clears his throat with a nod before taking another sip of wine. A shadow of something—tension, maybe—shows on his face, and he glances away, fidgeting with the stem of his wineglass. I know he’s dated in the past, but I have no idea how far those dates went. Does he have any experience? Particularly with men. He’s going to have to take the lead on this because I’ll be damned if I do anything to make him uncomfortable. Unfortunately, just thinking about the possibility of sex with him has my dick taking notice. Here’s hoping he doesn’t take things too slowly, or I’ll be left with a permanent erection.
Chapter 15
DYLAN
Oh,deargod,helpme.When Reed closes his eyes and lets out the sexiest moan I’ve ever heard, my brain nearly short-circuits. But because I’m me, I have no idea whether he’s talking about the food or something else. How am I supposed to react?
“Are you talking about the risotto being incredible? Or do you mean something else?” I blurt out. I know I’m probably the color of a tomato; I loathe having to ask these stupid questions, but after a lot of mistakes, I’ve learned the embarrassment over asking for clarification is far preferable to the mortification I feel after making a wrong assumption.
He sets down his fork and reaches for his wine, taking a sip before putting it down and turning his gaze to me. His eyes are positively smoldering, his gaze pinning me in place.
“Maybe I was talking about two things at once,” he says, his voice low and husky. “That risotto is some of the best stuff I’ve had in my mouth. Ever. But I can’t stop thinking about other things I’d like to put in my mouth.” He arches an eyebrow and gives me a goofy smile, but his eyes are still intense. I’m not sure if he’s teasing me or if he’s serious. I think it might be a bit of both.
My cock leaps against my zipper. Obviously he’s coming on to me, but as usual, I feel like an idiot because I don’t know how to respond. I hate this ridiculous mating dance we all do with each other. I live in fear of fucking it up, saying the wrong thing, and having the person I’m with either laugh at me or, worse, start thinking I’m some kind of creep.
Reed reaches for my hand across the table. He laces our fingers together, and it feels like they’re meant to be that way. A perfect fit, despite the contrast between my pale, scarred, and calloused skin against his smooth, olive skin tone. The strength and precision in his touch takes my breath away for a beat.
Tearing my eyes away from our linked fingers, I look up to find him gazing at me with a soft smile playing around his lips.
“So, as much as I want to kiss you right now, I’m afraid if I do, I won’t be able to stop.” His voice is soft, and he raises our linked hands to his mouth, placing gentle kisses on my knuckles. “Plus, we should really finish our dinner before dessert, right?” He waggles his eyebrows at me, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
I bite back my own smile. “That’s probably a smart idea,” I say, trying to keep a serious look on my face. “But—” I give him what I hope is a sexy smile and bite down on my bottom lip. “—I’m going to need you to eat a lot faster. You aren’t the only one who’s hungry for dessert.” I lick my lips suggestively, and Reed lets out a soft groan, followed by a deep, husky chuckle that goes straight to my balls.
“Believe me, I’ll make quick work of this dinner. We’ll have plenty of time to enjoy dessert. I promise, it’ll be worth the wait.” He slides his gaze to my mouth, where it lingers for a second before he smiles and takes another bite of risotto.
Clearing my throat, I take another sip of wine and concentrate on getting my hard-as-steel cock to calm down before I come in my pants.
“So, tell me about your week,” he says as if we aren’t nearly drowning in sexual tension. His smile is mischievous as he watches me struggle for a moment to catch up.
I clear my throat and bite back my own smile. Normally I hate any kind of game, but this one is kind of fun.
I start telling him all about my week, giving him as much detail as I can remember on the most boring things I can think of as we both finish our food.
The more time I spend talking, the faster Reed eats, until we both laugh as he takes his final bite and raises his arms above his head as if he’s just won a prize.
We both burst into laughter.
“Well, as utterly fascinating as that was, I think I’m probably adequately briefed about your week.” He grins at me as I stand and clear our plates.
“Well, that should bring you fully up to date,” I chuckle. “I’m just going to let the dogs out so they don’t bother us.”