Page 28 of Never Enough
We open our menus, but honestly, food feels secondary. All I can focus on is her beauty, her warmth, and her intoxicating presence. My fingers wander, brushing lightly against her wrist on the table. A jolt of desire courses through me, an ache that I can’t suppress. I stroke her arm next, reveling in the silky smoothness of her skin. Daphne shivers slightly, leaning into my touch.
“You’re always so warm,” she whispers in a voice like velvet.
“Only around you,” I assert, a bold statement that I mean wholeheartedly. Truth is, when she’s around, I start burning up.Every part of me wants to shed my clothes and take her to bed to show her exactly how hot we can burn.
I lean in closer, my lips finding the sensitive flesh of her neck. She giggles, a sound that sends a thrill through me. “Baby, we’re in public.”
“Can’t help it,” I reply, my voice husky. I’m not sorry at all, and I fucking love how she called me baby.
I signal the server over, nodding at our closed menus. “We’ll have a bottle of the Cabernet Sauvignon,” I say, my eyes flicking back to Daphne’s. She nods in approval.
“Steak for me,” I add, handing the server the menu.
“And for the lady?” he asks.
“The grilled sea bass, please.”
“Excellent choices,” he says, scribbling on his notepad before disappearing.
The chatter and clinking of silverware fade into the background. It’s just us, lost in our own private world. Daphne’s foot brushes against mine under the table, a subtle, electric connection that sends a jolt through me. I have to engage in conversation. If I don’t, my cock is going to burst from my pants from need.
“Can’t wait for the season to wrap up,” I confess, leaning back in my chair. “Football’s great and all, but tough on the body.” I rotate my shoulder, wincing slightly at the tightness.
“Is it the physical strain?” she asks. Her eyes scan my face, searching for any signs of discomfort.
“Yeah, it takes a toll, but I love the teamwork and camaraderie,” I reply, offering her a half-smile. “You know, having friends.”
I’d never admit such a thing to anyone else but her. When Celeste took notice of me, I joined football and learned I was naturally good, and with the snap of a finger, I had people to eat lunch with. At first, my depression felt more manageable when surrounded by people.
“I get that.” She nods, her fingertips tracing the stem of her water glass. “Must be satisfying, working with others towards a common goal.”
“Exactly,” I say, relieved that she understands. It’s more than just a game for me; it’s about connection, about belonging. But my body doesn’t always keep up with my ambitions, and I don’t actually enjoy playing. That’s the hard truth.
“I’m sure you can’t wait for some relaxation.”
“Hmm. Rest and spending time with you,” I reply, reaching across the table to take her hand. “That’s what I’m really looking forward to.”
We continue eating in comfortable silence until we near the end of our meal.
The last bite of my steak lingers on my tongue, rich and satisfying. I wash it down with a sip of red wine that tastes deep and earthy. Meanwhile, Daphne’s eyes hold mine, a spark of something new ignited within them.
“So,” she says, her voice low. “I’ve got to admit, watching you on the field is exciting.”
“Really?” I’m genuinely surprised. “You’ve seen me play?”
“Sure have,” she replies, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Local broadcast, plus YouTube. Hard to miss that tight end in action.”
I can’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside. “You’re talking about football, right?”
“Maybe,” she teases, her eyes dancing with amusement. It feels good, light and easy, but there’s an underlying heat that’s building between us with every glance. Every touch.
I’m pleased that she’s been watching me play even before she transferred. It means she’s thought about me too over the years. That our connection hasn’t withered on her end either.
Dinner wraps up too soon, or perhaps not soon enough because the need to be alone with her gnaws at me. I stand, reach for her hand, and feel the electric pulse as our fingers intertwine.
We make our way through the elegant dining room, past tables of diners lost in their own worlds. I don’t see any of them. Myworld narrows on her, on the anticipation that’s coiling tighter with each step we take towards the elevator.
The ride up is silent, our eyes locked and breaths shallow. We exit and almost jog to our suite. The entire time, the key card trembles slightly in my hand. Finally, when the door clicks open, we slip inside.