Chapter Twelve #2
Tomas holds her hand as he helps her out of the car, grasping it tightly in his in such contrast to the gentle way Silas had been holding it. The possession in his grip makes her core warm and her hand slightly sore, but she doesn't have any desire to complain or ask him to loosen his hand.
He tows her with him into the restaurant, holding the door out for her without letting go of her hand and approaching the ma?tre d'.
"We have a reservation under Front," he says simply, and then they are being led through the quiet room filled with fashionable-looking patrons and out through a double French door in the back.
They're led out onto a patio that overlooks the river, the sun setting over the water making it look like liquid gold. Charlotte she thinks she would've stopped to stare if Tomas hadn't still had her hand in his tight grip.
There's no one else seated out here. Just them, and the privacy of it makes her want to squirm with possibility. The ma?tre d' doesn't even look at her as he seats them, swiftly returning back inside so Tomas can pull out a chair and settle Charlotte directly onto his lap.
Her face flames but she knows better than to resist when Tomas' arm bands around her waist and holds her to him with a vice grip.
She's not offered a menu, but she's used to them ordering for her at this point.
She thinks she'd be upset if they were to stop, as much as the thought of it would've annoyed her had it been anyone else.
Silas orders for them when the ma?tre d' returns a few minutes later, a bunch of words she's not familiar with, and then he's gone.
There's a brazier next to the table to fight off the cool air, but she doesn't think the chill has any chance of reaching her with how warm and solid Tomas is.
Charlotte hesitates, then breaks the silence. “I have no idea what you just ordered,” she confesses.
Alex’s hand clasps her thigh, leaning over Tomas' arm to squeeze it possessively, but still innocently enough that anyone looking over wouldn't question it.
His eyes are hot on her, and she can't help remembering the way he had pressed his erection into her earlier at the lab.
“Don't worry, Ms. Hines. You’ll like it. "
Ms. Hines. Why did them calling her by her formal title make her so turned on?
Was there something wrong with her? Aside from the obvious daddy issues, that is.
.. okay, yeah, maybe there was something wrong with her, she could admit.
But the same thing was wrong with them, so maybe that made it okay.
The dishes begin arriving almost immediately and Silas leans close on her other side to explain each dish as it arrives. The servers don't blink an eye when they see their unorthodox seating arrangement.
“This is nigiri—it's just a slice of fish on rice,” he murmurs, nudging the plate toward her. “And those are the rolls. If you don’t like anything, you don’t have to eat it.”
Tomas leans around her to unwrap the shiny black chopsticks from the heavy cotton napkins and expertly wields them. Her mouth goes dry as she realizes she has no idea how to use those things and she desperately searches for a fork on the table. Of course, there is none.
She eyes up Tomas' beautiful, elegant hands as they pick up one of the rolls and pops it in his mouth, trying to memorize what he's doing. But then he's offering the next bite to her, holding it out for her in front of her mouth.
She reaches for the utensils on instinct, despite having no idea what to do with them if she got them in her hands, and he tsks his tongue at her in disapproval.
"Ah ah ah, Ms. Hines. Open up." His voice is deep and commanding and, despite her face flaming once more, she opens her mouth and lets him place the roll on her tongue.
He acts like her personal taste tester, trying one of each thing before he offers it to her. She's not sure if she particularly likes the sushi, but she likes the way he feeds it to her, so she has absolutely no complaints.
She finds herself watching the way he chews things. Somehow he's still so beautiful and elegant and refined, even when he's chewing raw fish. He raises a brow at her when he catches her staring at his throat as he swallows.
"My eyes are up here, Ms. Hines," he says smoothly. His piercing eyes are the only thing that gives away that he knows how affected she is by him. She swiftly averts her eyes. Caught again.
The beauty of the water distracts her again, but Tomas pulls her attention back to him effortlessly as he offers her a piece of sashimi. The salmon is melt-in-her-mouth soft.
"Good girl," he praises as she opens his mouth for him once more.
Those words have an unfair hold over her, and she loses herself into that floaty place in her head where she forgets to be afraid and she lets herself just be. Here, with them, in this safe golden bubble that exists outside of the constraints of expectation and reality.
Her head lolls back onto Tomas' shoulder and Alex's hand rests warmly on her thigh still.
She closes her eyes, letting their presence soak into her skin, and aches with how badly she wants this.
How badly she wants them. She wants to belong to them, to be theirs.
To always smell like them because of how thoroughly they drenched her in their scents each day, not just because of her new shower products.
A gasp catches in her throat and her eyes fly open when she feels Silas' hand join the others on her lap before it slips between her thighs.