Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“I wouldn’t mind skipping dinner,” I tell him when his mouth leaves mine.
He laughs, shaking his head and taking my hand. “We’re both gonna need our strength.” He walks us out to his car, opening the passenger’s side door for me before shutting it and jogging around the car to slide behind the wheel. As soon as we make it down the driveway, his hand interlocks with mine on my lap.
“So, where are we going?” I ask once I find my voice again.
“An Italian place a couple of towns over. They have the best eggplant parmesan I’ve ever eaten in my life.”
“I love Italian,” I tell him.
“I know.” He smiles, squeezing my fingers.
“How do you know?”
“All those frozen dinners you bought are Italian.” He laughs, making me smile and my cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
“I’m not good at cooking.” I shake my head and look out the window.
“I can teach you how to cook,” he says softly, squeezing my hand.
“I would like that.” I’ve always wanted to learn how to cook, but every time I’ve tried, it’s been a disaster, so I’ve given up.
We talk the rest of the way to the restaurant about his favorite things to cook and how he learned. I knew that his aunt Viv and uncle own the diner I had gone to the first time I met Viv, but I didn’t know that he used to work there during the summers when he was younger.
When we arrive at the restaurant, he finds parking along the busy street and leads me inside. The interior is dim, with mood lighting that makes the space feel much more intimate. The tables are covered in white linen cloths with a single tea light candle in the center of each. The host leads us to a small table in the back of the restaurant, but when he begins to pull out my chair, Kenton stops him, taking the chair and holding it for me until I take a seat. He then takes his own seat across from me.
“Would you like to see the wine list?” the waitress asks when she arrives at our table.
I look up at her and see that her eyes are glued to Kenton. I know that, if we’re going to try and build something lasting between us, I need to get a hold on the jealousy I feel when other women admire him, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“Would you like a glass of wine, baby?”
My eyes travel from the waitress to Kenton, and I shake my head. I don’t want anything tainting tonight.
His eyes darken with approval and never leave mine as he answers the waitress. “Just water for now.”
She nods and leaves us to look over the menus.
“Do you know what you’re going to have?” he asks after a few minutes.
“I don’t know. Everything looks so good,” I tell him, my mouth watering in anticipation.
“Everything here is delicious. My parents used to bring me and Toni here when we were growing up.”
My throat clogs at the happy memory of him and his family. A wave of sadness hits me over the fact that I have none to share with him.
“Stay with me, baby. We’re here together.” He takes my hand in his, some of his strength seeping into me through our connection.
I look into his eyes and nod as he brings my fingers to his mouth, pressing a kiss to them. “I’m okay,” I say after a few seconds.
He nods but doesn’t release my hand. Even when the waitress comes back to the table to take our order, he still holds on to me but changes the subject. We talk about my job and the request I put in to change shifts; we also talk about Justin and how he started working for him.
He keeps the conversation away from family and anything else he thinks might have me retreating. I know what he’s doing, and I appreciate it more than he knows. During dinner, I realize that he has a way of reading me that no one else ever had. That in itself tells me everything I need to know about being with him.
“Are you ready for dessert?” the waitress asks when she arrives back at our table after clearing our empty dishes.
I squirm, remembering what he said to me in the kitchen about being dessert when we got home. His eyes flare and his tongue comes out, running along his bottom lip.
“Yes,” Kenton replies, his eyes on mine. “You ready for dessert, baby?”
I know his question isn’t about food, and I squeeze my legs together and nod.
“We’ll take a piece of tiramisu to go, please.” He pulls out his wallet, handing her his card.
After he gets his card back along with a dessert box, we get back into his car, and the lust is so thick that I swear I can taste it as he pulls out into traffic. His hand goes to my knee then travels up my thigh and under the hem of my dress. When I feel his finger slide over my core, I gasp.