Page 62 of Tinder Embrace
“I’m looking forward to making you scream later. I even bought you lozenges for that sore throat.”
His voice was husky, and I stilled, caught between laughter and lust, reminded of the large box of condoms sitting far out of reach in my bedside table. I groaned. I hadn't planned for this. Leaning back, I squinted up at Davis, his face calm and composed, even after my emotional outburst. Maybe his plans had caught me by surprise, but I had faith in Davis's attention to detail.
"Did you bring everything we need?" I asked, not hiding the hopeful lilt in my voice.
"Probably that and more," he answered, expression enigmatic. "I like to be prepared."
And more? My thoughts raced with the possibilities, and I leaned away, examining Davis more closely.
"Are you into kinky stuff?" The words popped out before I could reconsider them, but Davis didn't seem to mind my direct question.
"I'll never do anything you don't want."
"That wasn't ano," I pointed out, chuckling when he arched a playful brow.
He was teasing me. Wasn’t he? I shifted, pressing my thighs together to ease the sudden ache there.
"Let's eat dinner," he said, escorting me to the couch. "Have a seat, and I'll be out with plates in a minute. Would you like a glass of wine or water?"
"Both, please," I said, my mouth dry.
Something about Davis made me think I needed to hydrate. But the way he'd avoided my question indicated that relaxing my inhibitions a bit might also be necessary. I didn't exactly consider myself a prude, but I'd never moved beyond vanilla in my sex life. If Davis was going to bust out blindfolds and toys, I needed fortification. I snorted.Fortification for fornication. It sounded like a band name.
That little bit of humor helped restore my equilibrium.
Davis brought out glasses for us both, before returning with plates heaping with lasagna, garlic bread, and a tossed salad in vinaigrette.
"Davis, this is so much food!"
I laughed at his bemused expression, shaking my head. He could probably put it all away and still manage any sexual gymnastics he had planned. Me? Not so much. As delicious as dinner smelled, I wanted to save room for sex. I colored at the idea of explaining that to Davis.
"I'll eat anything you don't want," he offered generously, and I bit my lip.
"Just tell me there's no dessert."
He leaned back, gazing at me from beneath hooded eyes. That glance was enough to ignite a fire, and I clenched my thighs together.
"Well, I wouldn't exactly say there'snodessert. But…"
"But what?"
He scratched his head, looking sheepish. "I brought a few sweet things to play with."
See, my instincts were right. Gruff, private exterior with a gooey chocolate center.
"So you're saying I should save room?" There was a teasing edge to my voice.
He glanced at his lap, my gaze following his. At least I wasn't the only one with a dirty mind. "Yeah, that'd be great," he answered, voice husky. He cleared his throat, shifting his gaze to mine. "No pressure though."
"I'm sure everything will be too delicious for me to resist," I said lightly.
Our foreplay hadn't moved beyond words, but the subtle tension between us still made it difficult to choke down dinner. Which was a shame, because it was delicious. I drank liberally to help wash it past the obstruction in my throat. Davis’s sweet gestures had me in a choke hold.
He and I chatted, touching on lighter topics like his work and mine, which helped me relax as the sun set over the horizon. Not everything between us was about sex. There was genuine liking there too.
"When do you want to take Bee-gonia up?"
Davis's question caught me off guard, but it shouldn't have. His integrity was rock-solid. He'd offered to come with me on my test flight, and no doubt for him, it was a done deal. My nerves were my own problem. But it was sweet he wanted to help.
