Page 50 of A Dark Fall
The way he looks at me, the way my mind can’t stop flitting back to the other night, means I have to break his gaze before a server appears with some bread, olives, and dipping oil. A jug of water and two glasses are placed down too.
I’m utterly starving, and so I lift an olive immediately and pop it into my mouth, almost groaning aloud from the pleasure. Then I take a long, welcome sip of the wine before turning back to the menu. I don’t see Jake even give it a cursory glance. I’m so hungry I want to order one of everything, but I know it’s because my stomach feels unloved and wants to be showered with gifts.
After a few seconds, I glance back up and see his head tilted as he watches me. He still hasn’t looked at the menu.
“Are you not eating?” I ask.
“I know what I’m having,” he says, eyes glittering. Eyes that look darker than I’ve ever seen them under this candlelight.
“Really? So, what do you recommend?” I take another slow sip of my red wine. “Mmm, this is lovely,” I say as I swallow.
Jake follows my lead and takes a small sip from his glass. His face screws up at the taste, but god, does he try to hide it. I stifle a giggle.
“Yeah ... It’s strong.” He swallows slowly, with difficulty.
“You don’t like red wine, do you?”
His shoulders sag slightly. He looks disappointed in himself. “No, not really. I don’t really like wine at all. Except champagne. I’m usually a beer or Jack man, though I don’t go in much for spirits these days.” He pushes the wineglass away as though it’s insulted him.
“So, why did you order it?”
“’Cause it’s expensive and I thought you’d like it, so I was prepared to give it a shot,” he tells me, gesturing to a server over my shoulder. Jake orders a half-pint of Peroni and hands his glass off to the waiter, saying it’s fine but just not to his taste.
He was prepared to give it a shot for me. It makes me feel fluttery and warm.
“So, you were going to recommend something?” I ask, dropping my focus back to the menu.
“I don’t normally have a starter here—the mains are huge even for me, and I will always pick dessert over a starter—but the chicken ravioli is amazing, as is the spaghetti meatballs.”
“Chicken ravioli sounds delicious. I’ll go with that then.”
I close my menu maybe thirty seconds before Leo appears to take our order. Jake orders “the usual,” and I go for the chicken ravioli. When Leo leaves us, Jake takes a long sip of his beer and smiles at me. It’s that small, knowing smile that makes me think he’s thinking X-rated thoughts.
“It’s a nice place ...” I say, breaking the silence.
“’S’not The Dorchester.” He shrugs. “But I like it.”
“I’ve heard The Dorchester is wildly overpriced anyway.”
Jake licks his tongue over his bottom lip again. “So, tell me about yourself, Dr. Marlowe.”
I have to stifle another laugh because this is a man who has seen me naked and given me multiple orgasms, one of which was in my kitchen. “You already know way too much about me, Mr. Lawrence. How about you tell me something about you? I know nothing about you.”
He sits back in his chair as he considers this, his leg grazing against mine as he does. The heat of him blooms warm through his jeans against my bare skin.
“You knownothing? Well, that’s not true now, is it? You know lots about me.” He smirks.
I think about this. “Okay, I know your name, phone number, where you work, and that you like Italian food but not red wine. That’s not lots, Jake. It’s barely anything.” I take another sip of the wine, which tastes better on every swallow.
Jake leans forward on the table then, closer, resting his hands under his chin. “Come on, baby. You know way more than that.” His voice is a low, sexy whisper that seems to dance over my skin. “You know I get hard just from looking at you, can make you come standing up with just my mouth, and you know I could have someone’s eye out with my cock.” He finishes with a gentle bite of his lip.
Holy Christ. I can’t breathe.
The look on his face demands a reaction of some sort, and he gets it. A chemical one. Heat floods my cheeks, and my tummy clenches tight, the tops of my thighs vibrating desperately.Breathe, Alex. You’re in a public place. Just breathe.
I swallow. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing ...” My voice sounds weightless.
He grins. “What am I doing?”