Page 42 of Wild Pucker

"And for your mains?" the server asks.

"It all looks so good," I hum, biting my lower lip in debate. "The ribeye and lobster sound to die for, but so does the pan-roasted King Cole Duck, and the ricotta-spinach tortellini sounds delicious too."

"We'll take one of each of what she just said," Chase smiles at the waitress.

"That's three entrees, Chase."

"You're right." Chase glances down at the menu. "We'll get the chicken caprese too."

"Chase!"

"What?" Chase puts a hand to his chest in mock outrage. "I'm a growing boy. You said it yourself. It all sounds delicious. We might as well try it all while we're up here. You're a chef, Lily; you should know fancy restaurants give baby-sized portion sizes. This way, we can share and taste it all."

I try to hide my smile and fail miserably. He's not wrong. The more expensive the restaurant, the less food you get. You'd think that with all the money you're forking out, they'd give you a ton of food, but that's not the case. I'll never forget visiting Luke when he first moved to Toronto. I took him to a fancy restaurant and he ordered the most expensive steak on the menu. When the waitress asked if he'd like sides with his meat, he almost burst a gasket.

"What do you mean nothing comes with the steak?" he raged. "I'm paying eight-five dollars just for steak? You can't throw in a potato or a few broccoli crowns for free?" It was a good meal, but Luke was so sour over the fact that he had to pay an extra ten bucks for side dishes.

If I ever have my own restaurant, I will serve delicious five-star food and lots of it. Everyone goes home with a satisfied smile, a food baby, and a doggy bag.

When our appetizers come out, Chase immediately grabs a fork.

"Since when do you eat soup with a fork?" I ask, narrowing my eyes and pulling my salad closer.

"About the same time you started eating salad with a spoon," he replies, motioning to my hand. I laugh, and we dig into each other's food.

By the time our entrees arrive, Chase has shuffled his chair closer to mine so we are sitting side-by-side rather than across from each other. The waitress brings us empty plates with our food so we can fill them with little bites of goodness from each dish.

I immediately aim my fork at the lobster and butter.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing to that lobster?"

"Devouring it." I plop a big piece into my mouth and moan. "So good."

Even in the fading light of the restaurant, I see Chase's eyes darken at my moan. I can't stop myself from doing it again when I taste the ribeye too.

Chase smiles at me like a predator, making my pulse spike. Saying nothing, he takes a bite of his food. His face stays completely neutral even when his free hand creeps up my thigh. I jump at his touch, but his hand holds me firmly in place. My mouth goes dry as he strokes my thigh, higher and higher. My breath catches and my mind goes blank when his hands skim oh so close to where I want him.

This is indecent, but I'm so turned on right now I can't bring myself to stop him. The table hides everything that's going on underneath, and unless the paparazzi have grown wings, no one knows what's going on except us.

I huff out a breath and shudder. A little whimper escapes my lips. I glance around the dining room, but no one pays us any attention. Except for Avery who is one table over, camera in hand. She raises an eyebrow so high I swear it touches her hairline while smiling like a cat who's caught the canary.

"Want to try the chicken?" Chase questions, offering me his fork. I open my mouth and he feeds me. As he pulls the utensil away, his clever fingers brush the centre of my pussy over my jeans.

"Mmmmm," I moan again. I can't believe I'm doing this right now. I need to stop, but I don't want to.

"Good?" Chase grins, repeating the movement.

"So good," I huff. If he keeps stroking me like that, I'm likely to do something crazy like strip out of my pants and mount him at the table. In a restaurant. In front of hundreds of thousands of followers. It's that thought that sobers me and I shift in my chair, trying to casually knock his hand away.

"Can you pass me my water?" I squeak, pulling away. Thankfully, Chase's hand recedes, and he hands me my ice water. I take a hearty gulp, trying to cool the arousal coursing through me.

"You're vibrating," Chase says a minute later, and I jump. My face must go beet red because he motions toward my phone. If it's possible, I blush even harder and grab my cell to put it away, but he stops me. "I don't mind."

It's a text from Riley.

Riley: I'll have what she's having.

Beside me, Chase chuckles, and I shoot him a glare.

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