Chapter 20
“I’m sweating.” I giggle as I dab at my forehead with a napkin.
“Can’t take the heat?” Kurt points to the kitchen door, and we all laugh again as I take off my leather jacket. His wine pours have been very generous this evening, and the food could not have been better with this last dish nearly killing me with how spicy it is.
Gideon runs his thumb down my exposed arm. That tender touch sends tingles through my entire body.
“I have no spice tolerance whatsoever,” I share. Gideon gives me a naughty look, taking another meaning to that statement. “I’m from Wisconsin.” I wink at him, thinking about how epic this date has been so far.
“There is barely one wrist shake of chili pepper in this.” Kurt chuckles and then announces, “Time for dessert.”
“I have something else in mind,” Gideon says before the chef can move. I glance at him suspiciously, wondering what he has planned.
“Can we wrap up what you prepared?” he asks.
Kurt nods and walks out of the kitchen.
“Thank you.” I smile, grabbing his hand again.
Kurt returns, tossing Gideon a set of keys before placing another bottle of Pinot Noir on the counter with a to-go bag. “Lock up when you leave,” he says while confirming all the burners are off.
I ask Gideon, “He’s leaving us here … alone?” The sound of the door slamming shut answers my question.
His gaze is so intense that I feel like a fly buzzing close to one of those lamps that’s about to zap them. I know I shouldn’t fly so close, but I do anyway.
Gideon walks to the other side of the counter, playing with the unopened bottle of wine.
“This was definitely a first for me,” I share. “I’ve never had a chef’s table experience … or a restaurant shut down for me.”
“Did you like it?”
“I’d rank it as the best first date I’ve ever been on.”
He smiles, but I can tell he is holding back from showing how much he liked hearing that.
“Should I pour us another glass?” he asks, and I nod.
“I don’t want this night to end,” I say sincerely, almost nervous. “Kurt was a really good wingman for you.”
“He’s one of my closest friends. Now, it’s just us.” He smirks before refilling our glasses. “What are we going to do with ourselves?”
I breathe, biting my lip. But then reality hits me. I don’t want anything serious right now, but I want something else.
“This is your one date with me …” I flirt. “I wouldn’t waste any opportunity.”
He chuckles. “Call me traditional,” he says, tense and breaking our heated gaze. “I think there is a lot of value in waiting until the third date.”
“So presumptuous,” I tease. I know what he’s saying. It would be mature of us to not fuck on the first date. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to choose the mature course of action or that he will get another date. I want all of it though—another date and to have him railing me.
“Why do you look conflicted?” he asks, tracing my bottom lip while he bites his, confidently teasing.
Wet. I am instantly fucking wet at this touch. “I’m not trying to date anyone right now.”
“Trying and doing are two different things,” he growls. Then he presses two fingers to my lips before slowly sliding them into my mouth. “There’s so many things I want to do with you.”
Damn. I thought we were not going to be getting freaky tonight after his “call me traditional” chat. His fingers move in and out of my mouth, deeper each time. He hums, picking up the pace. I close my eyes, enjoying it with a moan.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he grumbles, taking his fingers out and grabbing my face. Crashing his lips into mine, he kisses me with need, and his tongue sends every kind of electric shock through my body.
Gideon’s hand slowly snakes along my neck to my chest. My nipples are hard, poking out of my bralette and visible through the silk top. He teases the bump over the fabric. Then, he pulls away from our kiss, trailing his tongue down my neck before nipping at it and squeezing my breast.
“I want to eat you for dessert,” he says, low.
Fuck yes! This tongue is already magical. His hands land on my thighs, squeezing them hard before lifting me and placing me on the counter.
“Here? Now?” I squeak.
“Right the fuck now.” He chugs the rest of his wine and sets the glass firmly down, away from us. “This might be my only chance.”
Already turned on, I bite my tongue, and his hands begin unbuttoning and unzipping my pants.
Watching him take off my combat boots, before sliding off my jeans, I challenge, “If it’s any good, I might have to give you a second date.”
He kisses the fabric of my thong, then bites it, pulling it down my left hip. He pauses, taking me in and lifts my top up and over my bra.
“So sexy,” he says, lifting my legs and yanking my thong to the floor. Holding my ankles with one hand, he growls, “I’m dying to hear you scream.”
Gideon kisses my inner thigh and then pulls me to the edge of the counter. His lips go right back to kissing my thigh, and each kiss gets closer to the known destination before he licks one slow, firm circle around my clit.
I moan, lying back on the cool steel. This is not something I had on my bucket list: getting eaten out in a Michelin-starred kitchen. I giggle, loving this scene.
His hand possessively slides up my body, exploring. His tongue knows exactly what it’s doing, and his fingers are perfectly stroking me. His licks swiftly take me to the edge.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
“So wet,” he says, barely breaking contact with my skin. He is dangerously deliberate in each of his motions. The way he is nipping and sucking and … “Do you want to come?” he whispers, and I realize how close I am already.
“Yes,” I beg.
“Ask nicely,” he instructs and then slams his tongue harder on my clit. Of course, a man who looks like a statue of a Greek god is dominant and alpha.
“Please,” I moan, with a hint of sass, squirming at how close I am to unraveling.
I grind my pussy into his face, pulling him closer with my legs.
“This is everything,” I pant, combing my fingers through his hair, bringing him even closer.
The agony of not fucking him tonight begins to set in. I need him. All of him.
“Come for me,” he says softly.
His tongue lightly flicks, then he deeply sucks. Moaning and writhing on his face, I climax, and my limbs carelessly flail on the counter.
“Wow,” I finally muster. He pulls me up to sit and squeezes my hips, lifting me off the counter to stand. I slide my shirt down and grab my thong from the floor. It’s drenched, and I hesitate to wear it.
“You want to really drive me crazy?” he asks, taking it from my hand and putting it in his pocket.
“Yes,” I state, looking into his dark hazel eyes, smirking at the fact he stole my thong.
“Promise me you won’t come until I see you again.”
“What?”
“I want to be the only one who does that to you. That’s the only way you get this.” He pulls me in tight, and I can feel how hard he is. “I have to be the only one.”
Only one. It’s our first date. But I’m not sleeping with anyone else. Well, Adam, but I’m seriously taking a break from him.
We hold a long stare before I say, “Fine. You can take me out on a second date.”