Page 47 of Paradise in Progress
“Not hungry?” he interrupts my thoughts.
Startling, I reach for my spoon and scoop up the burnt-orange-colored soup. The flavors explode on my tongue, and I let out a very unladylike moan. “Oh my gosh, this is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
His fork pauses in the air as his jaw hangs open. The realization of what I just said hits me, and my cheeks heat. “If that’s the best thing that’s been in your mouth, clearly, you’ve been doing things wrong.”
“Tristan!” I mockingly scold, holding in a laugh as he tips his shoulder up in a shrug.
A comfortable silence falls over our table as we enjoy the food. Halfway through the appetizers, our waiter comes back to take our entree orders while we finish the food in front of us. One thing is for certain, if I keep eating like this, I’ll be finding myself in the gym at the start of every day. Cycling in New York was a part of my weekly routine, but since being here, I haven’t felt the need to hit the gym. Maybe it’s because I’m forced to be outside and not confined to a stale office. Whereas in New York, I needed that sense of adventure, of movement. Here, I get that every day when I walk across the property.
Our food arrives, and I admire the creative plating. Asparagus fricassee sits in the middle of my plate, with three grilled lamb chops placed over top and a red wine reduction drizzled around the outside. Tristan’s plate is similar. Only he has whipped potatoes in the center of his and his beef tenderloin on top. Next to the beef is a skewer of perfectly grilled shrimp and a port wine reduction is drizzled across the plate. My mouth waters.
Slicing into the lamb, I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. “I used to show sheep at the county fair.”
Tristan chokes on his mouthful of water. “What?”
“Yeah, we would get lambs and walk them around the property.”
“Then what did you do with them?”
“At the end of the fair, there would be a livestock sale, where people and local businesses bid on the animals.”
“What happens when they buy them? Do they have sheep running around the car dealerships?”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “No, silly. They take them to market, where they become…” I gesture to my plate with my fork.
“Jesus. That’s morbid,” he laughs out as he cuts into his tenderloin.
“Facts of life.” Taking a bite of my lamb, I moan again at the rich, juicy flavors. “This is delicious.”
“Would you stop moaning,” he mumbles.
Daringly, I take my foot and run my toes up his bare leg, slowly and seductively, to tease him. “What’s the matter, Golden Boy? Turning you on?”
He reaches under the table and grabs my ankle. I try to jerk it away, but his grip tightens. “Yes.”
Chills skate across my skin, even with the humidity. My eyes snap to his and find him already watching me. Warmth radiates from his gaze as if I’m genuinely affecting him. What’s happening between us?
The sound of steps on the wooden floor pulls our attention, snapping the trance we’ve found ourselves in. Our waiter returns to top off our water glasses. The magnetic pull swirls in the air, growing thicker than the humidity, and I try to take my foot back again. Only this time, Tristan’s fingers trail up my skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. I’m fighting to squeeze my legs together to relieve some of the pressure and lessen the tingling ache that’s settled between my thighs. Once ourglasses are filled, I thank the gentleman as he scurries away, no doubt feeling the tension around our table.
Dinner feels like it drags on for hours as we envelop ourselves in our tiny bubble of foreplay. With each bite I take, my lips wrap around my fork in a slow manner, which has me closing my eyes and releasing soft hums. Tristan’s touch rarely leaves my ankle as he continues to tease me with soft caresses whenever I find myself enjoying my meal a little too much. Reaching for my wine, I let the medium-bodied red liquid glide into my mouth. The wine is the perfect mix of acidity and boldness to complement my dinner. Flicking my tongue against my lips, I lap up the tiny droplet that escaped. This time, it’s Tristan’s turn to groan.
I can’t explain what’s gotten into me. It’s been so long since I’ve been entertained by a man, even if this isn’t a date and it’sTristan. The idea of being wined and dined isn’t lost on me. Is this what it’s like to date? Or is it what it feels like to datehim? Maybe when I get back to New York, I’ll make it a point to go out on more dates. That’s if Tristan doesn’t ruin me for all other men in the meantime.
Who am I kidding? Once I step foot back into New York, I’ll be more invested in the office. But maybe I’ll try.
After our plates are cleared, Tristan and I make our way over to the seating area, where the fire pit is, for our dessert. He takes the seat next to me, and I enjoy the feeling of his skin brushing against mine. I’m grateful for the heat from the flames, as the air has started to cool.
“So this is what it would be like to date Tristan Nelson?” I blurt, taking a bite of the mango chocolate cheesecake.
A quizzical expression morphs his features. “What?”
“This…” I gesture around us. “The sunset cruise, the candlelit dinner, the caresses, and now dessert by the fire.”
“This was all for you.”
My body alights at his husky tone, stomach flip-flopping as I meet his gaze.
“Wh-what do you mean?” I fumble over my words.
