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“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” His breath ghosts over my lips, the barest and most seductive whisper of a touch. “So, you’re not—”
A bell rings, and he groans. Saved by the bell.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Dinner bell.” His voice turns hollow. “Guess our time’s up.”
I try not to let my disappointment show as he glides us to the edge of the pool, his arms still wrapped around me. He presses a quick peck to the tip of my nose before releasing me and hoisting himself out of the water. Rivulets run down his toned back, his muscles flexing when he reaches for his robe.
He catches me staring and winks. “I’ll be right back.”
“Yep.” I lower my gaze, hoping the heat in my cheeks can be blamed on the warm water.
Calm down, Lil.
No. Not calm down.
What the hell am I doing? This is Sebastian. My ex. The man who shattered my heart into a million pieces.
But… he’s also the man who makes me feel alive. Who challenges me, pushes me, and sees me in a way no one else does.
I sigh, pulling myself out of the pool and covering myself with the robe. I settle onto one of the lounge chairs. Waiting.
Sebastian returns, a large tray in his hands. “Bon appétit.” He sets the tray down on the small table between us. “Hope you’re hungry.”
My stomach rumbles in response. “Starving, actually.”
“Dig in, princess.” He hands me a plate.
The wooden board is a smorgasbord of delights. There’s a selection of cured meats—prosciutto, salami, and something that looks like bresaola. The rich, salty flavors melt in my mouth.
Next to the meats are an array of cheeses. Soft, creamy brie, sharp cheddar, and a wedge of what I think might be Manchego. I pop a piece of the brie onto a thin, crispy cracker and nearly moan at the perfect combination of textures.
“Good?” He observes me.
“Mmm.” My mouth is still full. “This is amazing.”
“Thought you might like it.” He takes a sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving mine.
I reach for a plump, juicy grape, but he beats me to it. He plucks it from the stem and holds it up to my lips.
My heart stutters. This feels intimate. Too intimate. But the challenge in his eyes spurs me on.
I part my lips, letting him place the grape on my tongue. His fingers brush my bottom lip, sending heat low into my belly.
I swallow. “Sweet.”
“Very.” He’s watching me, his expression unreadable. A heat in his gaze, a hunger that has nothing to do with the food in front of us.
“What’s that?” I point to a small bowl of something dark and glossy.
“Ah.” He dips a finger into the bowl and holds it up, a drop of the dark liquid clinging to his skin. “This, princess, is aged balsamic. Try it.”
He extends his finger toward me, and my breath catches. Is he really expecting me to…