Forging Glory by Lainey Davis

Author:Lainey Davis [Davis, Lainey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lainey Davis

Chapter 18

Cara

Wes raises his glass and I clink mine against him, savoring the taste of the wine. One glass should be fine with my meal plan, especially considering everything else here is on the list of “knock yourself out” foods.

I don’t want this date to end. Between the food and the spicy wine and the ambiance, it feels like some sort of fairytale. Plus, Wes has been staring at me intently for hours now and I could melt under the heat of his gaze.

“I want to do better with you, Cara. I want to be a better friend and listen more, and I want to be here cheering for you as you crush it with the national team.”

The smile splitting my face might strain my face muscles if I’m not careful. “You are a good friend, Wes. Thank you.” I rub at his leg with my foot, gently this time, and his promise of a goodnight kiss starts to feel really inadequate for what I’d like to do with him right now.

Wes scoots back around the bench so he’s sitting right next to me again, our cleaned plates off to the side. I remember that we haven’t yet had dessert, and just as Wes slides an arm around my shoulder, our server reappears with a tart and two spoons. “Here you are, sir, madam. And you can take all the time that you need.” He ducks away before I can thank him, and I turn my head back to Wes to see him aiming a spoonful of yellow custard at my mouth.

He tilts a head in question, and I open my lips. Wes slides the quivering spoon of tangy citrus into my mouth, and I nearly die of bliss right there on the rooftop. “I’ve heard you make those sounds before,” he whispers.

I’m sure my pupils have dilated fully by now. “Doesn’t even compare. You have to try this.” He opens his mouth like a baby bird, and I swat at his chest, but I don’t want to deprive him of this delicacy, so I spoon some custard up for Wes and feed it to him, gently.

“Oh shit.” His face brightens as he works through the seven stages of ecstasy involved in this dessert. I balance the plate on his long thigh and the two of us press close together, sharing an orgasmic flavor experience that’s heightened by my desire for him. Based on the size of his pupils and the ragged breaths he draws whenever I press on his leg for leverage as I scoop up yuzu, Wes feels the same level of barely contained lust.

“Take me home.” I place the spoon back on the empty plate with a clang. Wes nods and springs to his feet, tugging my hand and guiding me down the door.

The white-clad woman at the foot of the stairs must be his aunt’s friend, the chef who created our feast. She speaks with a heavy accent as she asks us how we enjoyed our meal.

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