Don't Hex and Drive (Stay a Spell #2) - Juliette Cross Page 0,53
to go first.
I enjoyed watching her smearing her oyster in the tomato jam and sugarcane vinegar. I tried not to stare at her mouth, but it was kind of impossible. I decided to move on to a subject that had been nagging at me since the night we went to the hospital.
“So why aren’t you dating? Finding a man to fill certain needs instead of Big John?”
“That’s kind of personal.” She forked another oyster onto her serving plate with a small pile of arugula.
“I don’t mean to pry.”
“Yes, you do,” she said with a tilt of the head and a casual smile.
“I can’t help it. I’m naturally curious about you.”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin and took a sip of water, avoiding my gaze for a few seconds. “I don’t know. I don’t date much.”
Very closed off about that. Okay. “Who was the last guy you dated?”
I expected her to shut me down and veer to another conversation, but she surprised me.
“A witch from Metairie. We dated a little while.” She shrugged that same shoulder, bringing my gaze to the curve of exposed skin. It looked so soft. I bet it was.
“He wasn’t a nice guy?”
“No. He was nice. Very nice.”
“Your enthusiasm is so convincing,” I goaded sarcastically.
She smiled. “Honestly? I just got bored.”
“So no sparks in the sack?”
“Devraj,” she hissed under her breath, glancing over her shoulder at the only other couple out here who were far too engrossed in their mimosas and conversation to hear us. “That’s none of your business.”
“I’m just curious. But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.” I tried for nonchalance, hoping she’d open up.
Even though a wave of pink splotched her chest and neck, she decided to anyway, much to my delight.
“It’s just that I’m a private person, and I’m very particular about who I date and who I allow in my bed.” She couldn’t look me in the eye, but she went on. “Sometimes it’s just easier to rely on myself.” She sipped her Bloody Mary again before adding matter-of-factly, “I can take care of myself just fine.”
She meant take care of her own pleasure just fine. My pants grew tighter while I imagined taking care of her in my own way.
“I’m sure you can.” The waiter cleared the table and set down her house salad. While she busied herself mixing the greens and dressing, I leaned forward, forearms braced on the table. “But I’d like to apply for the job.”
She laughed before taking a bite, then looked across the table, her smile slipping when she realized I wasn’t kidding around. Damn. I really needed to adjust my crotch, but I didn’t want her to know quite how arousing I found this conversation.
She examined me while she chewed, then arched a brow. “I imagine you think you could do better than Big John,” she teased, trying to lighten the heaviness hovering between us. But I wasn’t ready to let this go. Not even close.
“Maybe not. He could join the party if you like.” I licked my lips before whispering intimately, “Actually, I think that would be a fantastic idea.”
For a split second, a flash of both surprise and excitement crossed her features. The tell-tale blush coloring her cheeks, neck, and chest proved she was definitely thinking about my offer.
She sipped her water and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “You’re being serious, aren’t you?”
“Deadly.” I held her gaze, green eyes swamping with heat. “Give me one night, and I’ll prove it to you.
She busied herself with her salad, and I let her eat in peace. I wanted her to mull over our conversation, hoping she might come to the conclusion I truly was being serious. She had that skeptical look in her eye, glancing at me between bites, both of us watching the passersby below in between watching each other.
When the waiter cleared away the plates for the appetizers and set our main course down, she hummed in appreciation. She truly was a sensual creature. The delight in her eyes and widening of her smile expressed her pleasure before she’d even taken a bite. Yet again, I wondered what it might be like to be the cause of her pleasure.
“Would you like a bite?” she asked, as I watched her eat like a starving man. Little did she know, I wasn’t starving for her food.
“Sure.”
She pushed her plate across the table for me to reach. Lifting my untouched fork, I took a bite of her shrimp and grits.