Chapter 11
HANNAH
I’ve never had such attentive service at a restaurant before or so many meals. There’s been a tiny appetizer dish before each course. Hugo said it was meant to be a palate cleanser from the previous that will help pair well with the next.
So, this final dessert dish will be the eighth plate pushed in front of us.
We all selected the chef’s choice option at Dane’s recommendation so all our entrees were the exact same, however we were asked what our preference was for dessert. Sweet or tart?
Both Ethan and I said tart and were given a lemon lavender fruit cup. I’ve never consumed any form of lavender before, but as I take my first bite, my eyes flutter and my jaw drops.
The taste actually brings out a smile from me, it’s so good.
“Oh my god,” Ethan mutters as he finishes swallowing.
This is probably the best dessert I’ve ever had in my entire life.
“Oh man, this one is good. Here, try this,” Dane says as he dips his tiny spoon into his creme br?lée dish. There’s a glassy crunch as he presses through the top shiny layer, scooping up the custard and lifts it toward me.
Instead of handing me the spoon, he leans forward, holding it a few inches from my mouth as his eyes bounce between my eyes and lips.
My tongue darts over my bottom lip, as my teeth rake over the surface, before I lean in, slowly opening my mouth. Dane presses the spoon on my tongue and I wrap my lips around the stem as he inches it back out.
Oh my god. There’s an explosion of heavy flavors on my tastebuds. It’s decadent and sweet. So soft and creamy. I’ve had creme br?lée before but nothing like this.
My eyes widen as I peer over at Ethan. He’s gripping the table, looking between the two of us then clears his throat.
“That good, huh?” Ethan asks.
“You have to try it,” I sign to him, but Dane’s already refilled the spoon and is holding it in his direction. There’s a brief pause as he looks down at the spoon, up at Dane, then back at me.
He’s always been so reluctant to try new things, so I’m shocked when he reaches his hand out and takes the offering from Dane.
Dane smiles as his hand retracts, then says, “You won’t regret it.
” There’s a sensuality behind his tone, but I’ve come to realize with him that he lives in the flirt zone.
I swear everything he says is either ridiculously funny, over the top sweet and serious, or so sexy it lights my core on fire.
I have no idea how he balances it all so well.
It’s not just me either. He speaks to Ethan the same way and I love how easily it affects him. Ethan is so high strung all the time, yet I’ve seen him let loose more times today than ever before.
After only one day of hanging out with Dane, I know if we could explore with anyone I could be comfortable doing that with him. I’m not a hundred percent certain he’s into guys, he hasn’t flat out said it, but if I were to guess, he likes us both.
Ethan and I have been talking for what feels like forever about his bisexual curiosity.
I know he’s embarrassed by it, or maybe just shy to explore it.
But, I feel anxious about it. To see him get pleased by another man, for me to please a man in front of him.
The thought of all the possibilities excites me like nothing else has.
Meeting Dane in Paris, the way we did, feels like a bit of kismet, and I want to take full advantage of the opportunity.
Ethan is a lot of things, but assertive in his sexual desires—especially the one he’s been suppressing—is not one of them.
I know I’m going to need to step in and make the first move if anything is ever going to happen. And, god, do I want it to.
Lifting the dessert toward his mouth, he takes a bite, then returns the utensil to Dane.
Dane smiles and without dipping it back into the br?lée, he takes the spoon in his mouth, wraps his lips around it and pulls it back out, licking off the excess completely.
“Mmmm, delicious,” he says.
Annnnd Ethan is speechless. From the sexual way Dane devoured the spoon that my boyfriend just had in his mouth or from the actual dessert, I’m not sure. But I’m here for it.
I’ve been drowning in the tension growing between us, lost in our own little world, but the chatter I hear coming from the table next to us feels like getting dunked in a cold plunge.
“What do you think that’s from? It looks so bad.” Whispered words grab my attention.
I look down and freeze, shifting just my eyes to the table on my left to see two women sitting across from each other. I can see in my periphery that one is leaning forward with her hand over her neck and the other looks in the direction of our table.
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t wear what she’s wearing, especially at dinner. Talk about losing your appetite.” Her tone is both disgusted and humorous, like she was delivering a punchline.
“Those guys are hot, too. I mean she’s kinda pretty, I guess,” one girl says.
Then the other adds, “But that scar,” a long hiss leaves her lips, “her date needed to bring his wingman to get him through this one.” They giggle.
Do they actually think they’re whispering?
Dane’s eyes blink over my shoulder as the pinch in his brow gets deeper.
Reaching out, I place my hand over his, because I can tell he wants to say something and I don’t need to create any more negative attention. That always makes everything worse.
He shifts his gaze to our connected hands, up to Ethan, then back to mine and the fury that was there a few minutes ago is replaced with something different now. It’s still dark but full of lust, need, and some sort of delighted curiosity.
I know this is all new to him, but not to me.
I’m used to people staring, used to their eyes unavoidably appraising my scar then quickly turning away.
Some go as far as whispering to whoever they are with, but most often there’s just a quick look of disgust or pity, before covering it up and attempting to ignore the fact that it’s there.
If I were just with Ethan, it would be easy to disregard their lingering looks and whispered comments. But now with Dane here, it’s staggering my usual confidence.
I tilt up my chin and sit a little taller, going through all the steps I do to build myself up when I’m feeling emotionally compromised and decide, fuck it.
I shift my gaze over to Ethan.
“Trust me?”
He squints, granting me a curious look, then signs back, as we usually do when our conversations are private.
“Always.”
I slide one hand over Ethan’s forearm, while my other hand slips over the top of Dane’s hand, connecting the three of us.
Keeping my eyes on my gorgeous boyfriend—who might want to kill me after this—I lean in, bringing my lips to his.
It’s soft and sensual as our tongues collide and he moans in pleasure.
I can feel Dane’s gaze searing into us, his hand tightening in my grasp.
I pull away slowly and lean over toward Dane.
Dane visibly sits taller, peering between the two of us, uncertain of my next move. But I know exactly what I’m doing.
I turn my gaze directly at the girls, smile, give them a wink, then turn back to Dane. That’s all it takes for him to read me like a book and before I can even begin to fall into him, he cups his hand around the nape of my neck and pulls me in for a passionate kiss.
It’s soft at first, curious. Like he’s testing the flavors.
His hand disappears from under mine and I’m suddenly pulled closer to him. The legs of my chair screech along the floor, before he cups both of his hands over my cheeks and kisses me deeper.
My heart races. My pulse goes crazy and a groan from somewhere in the back of my throat makes a rare appearance.
I pull back, feeling overwhelmed by sensory overload but Dane holds me close, pressing his forehead to mine.
“Oh yeah, I love that sound,” he admits again, like it’s a new life goal to do things to pull that small moan from me.
“Now, give these girls no doubt how badly we both want you and go kiss your boyfriend again. Let him taste me on you.”