Page 95 of The Riskiest Move

“This is delicious,” he says, gesturing to the plate with his fork.

“It is,” I agree. “How sad we didn’t know this place existed. We had no idea what we were missing out on.” I take a sip of wine.

“That’s true,” he agrees.

Placing my glass down, I lick my lips. “Imagine the number of life experiences that exist in the entire world and we’re completely unaware as we go about our daily living. I guess ignorance is bliss.”

“But is it really?” he questions. “In today’s age of spending too much time staring at our phones, it’s important to do spontaneous things like taking this little trip. Think of it as positive stimulation and a necessary reprieve for our brains.”

“We’re feeding our brains along with our stomachs.” I laugh.

“Speaking of feeding… Not to point out the obvious, but I didn’t even need your help cutting my roast beef,” he says, which makes me laugh even louder.

Dammit. I didn’t even notice. “Oh, honey, I’m so proud of you.” I briefly place my hand on top of his and try not to panic at the endearment I used.

“Thank God that damn sling is gone. I hope I won’t need to wear it again. I never realized how many things I do that involve using both of my hands.”

I titter. “Do tell.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” he scolds playfully, but then he leans forward on the table. “Incidentally, I didn’t have any problems in that department while being one handed.”

I fan my hand in front of my face. “We should table this conversation until we’re back in the room and then you can tell me all the dirty details. Or better yet, demonstrate.”

“Been there, done that,” he points out, drawing a memory of him stroking his cock for me.

I take a gulp of wine to cool off, then point my fork at him. “Behave.”

His smirk is the only reply I get, but I can tell this desire-filled pull runs both ways. But what are we going to do about it? That’s the million dollar question. I know what I want to happen. And I don’t just mean sex. Although, that’s definitely part of my short- and long-term plans.

After dinner, we share a slice of caramel cheesecake for dessert. I let him feed me the first bite, but then all bets are off because it’s too delicious. “It’s every person for themselves,” I say, and now we’re in a race to see who can devour it first.

Cooper laughs, taking a few more small bites before he lets me have the remainder.

“Giving up so soon?” I tease.

“Watching you have a foodgasm over this is more rewarding for me than eating the cheesecake.”

I snort. “For future reference, foodgasms should always precede orgasms.”

“I’ll make a note of that,” he says, pulling out his phone and tapping his fingers against the screen.

I laugh and finish the final bites of the desert before patting my stomach. “Everything about this meal from the entrée to dessert was delicious.”

“It was,” he agrees. “Should we head upstairs and relax?”

“Yes. I want to put my pajamas on and cuddle with you.”

“That sounds like a great idea.” Pushing back his chair, he rises.

I moan like I’m in pain. “I ate too much. You might have to help me up.” I stretch my hand out and he grabs it, slowly pulling me to my feet. “I feel like a toddler who’s milk drunk and needs to be carried to bed,” I joke, holding my arms up like I want him to pick me up. And he does just that. “Cooper!” I shout, laughing. I wrap my arms and legs around him. “I was kidding.”

“Well, I took you at your word.” He walks from the dining room into the hallway and starts up the stairs.

“Oh my God. What about your shoulder?” I ask.

“It’s fine.”

Holy crap, he’s strong.

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