Page 160 of Happy Hour

Once he began, I couldn’t focus on anything other than him eating. The way he licked his fingers, the incredibly sexy way he chewed.

Hot damn.

It was like some sort of food pornography.

I wanted to jump across the table, hump his leg and then lick all that sticky barbeque sauce from him.

And I’ll be damned if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing with the smirk on his face. He knew all right.

“How’s your brisket?” Jameson asked licking barbeque sauce from his thumb.

“Stop doing that.” I glowered at him taking a bite of my brisket.

He smirked licking the other thumb. “Doing what?”

“You’re distracting me. All I can focus on is you licking your fingers.”

Jameson leaned forward, his breath blow across me when he spoke. “Are you imagining what all my tongue can do for you?”

“No, not at all,” I lied calmly. “I’m enjoying my meal.”

“Bullshit.” He called my bluff. “I know you find this hot.” He ran his sticky barbeque finger over my lower lip. “You bite down on your bottom lip when you’re horny.”

“Do not.” I stated releasing my bottom lip.

He chuckled softly leaning back in his seat and placed his napkin on the table. Jameson glanced around the room, then turned his head to the side and smiled again. “I got something to distract you.”

The pervy pigizzle in me wanted to drop to my knees under the table and see exactly what he had to distract me. I refrained only because this was his favorite restaurant and I’d like to be allowed to return.

Taking a slow drink of water, trying to distract him and myself, I asked. “And what would that be?”

“When are you going to marry me?” His green eyes smoldered.

Say what?

I instantly started choking on the water I had ingested; choking to the point of my face was the devils ass again, gasping for much needed air.

Jameson moved next to me rubbing my back. “Breath honey...just breath,”

“I...”cough. “Am...”cough. “Trying...”cough.

The entire restaurant all gawked at me. And though they all seemed genuinely concerned, it was still incredibly embarrassing. I wanted to crawl under the table and hide.

Jameson wrapped his arm around me, leaning into my ear, effectively blocking everyone’s view of me.

It was a simple gesture that I appreciated very much at that point.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered. “and thatwasn’tmy proposal. I may be a jerk but Ican beromantic. I just want you to know that I am going to marry you, someday. I have every intention of spending the rest of my life, with you.”

“Did you get that from aHallmarkcard?” My voice was hoarse from all the coughing.

“No, it’s my feelings.” He responded with so much sincerity that I started crying. In the middle of the damn restaurant, with Jameson’s arms wrapped around me, I was bawling.

“Come on, honey.” Jameson lugged me closer. “Let’s get out of here. I want to take you somewhere special.”

“Not the woods.” I responded instantly. “Please not the woods.”

“No...not the woods...I’m not sure I willevergo camping again.”

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