Page 24 of Best In Class (Savannah's Best #7)

Luna

“ W here are we going?” I ask as he drives us.

I told Aurora, ‘ No fucking way’ was she dressing me for this second date.

Dressing up last time was fun and all—and totally worth it to see Dom’s tongue hang out—but I’ll save that for special occasions. Can’t have him getting too used to it.

I am back in jeans. But I have on a cream-colored raw silk blouse to let Dom know that I’m still making an effort.

Dom drives us toward the riverfront, the city softening under the golden blur of evening.

He parks near The Wyld Dock Bar—a waterfront spot with picnic tables on the dock, string lights overhead, and marshland views that go on forever.

It’s casual but thoughtful.

Southern food with clean lines.

Cozy, but not loud.

I’ve been expecting him to pull out all the stops—Elizabeth’s on 37th, Noble Fare, something grand. But this? This is surprising and utterly charming. Also, heart-stopping, as he’s telling me that he knows me and what matters to me, matters to him. And that might be the most romantic thing of all.

We’re not people who go to places to be seen.

Some do, and more power to them, but I’m not interested in that aspect of Savannah society. If I go to a restaurant that’s on the higher end, it’s because I’m with friends, because I’m there for the food and the wine, not to take pictures and post them on social media.

Hell, I don’t have a single social media account—unless LinkedIn counts.

“This is an inspired choice,” I remark.

He slips his hand onto the small of my back as we walk toward the host stand. “You said you liked places with good crispy okra and bad acoustics.”

“Did I?”

“A month ago, when we had a meeting with Tommy.”

I frown, trying to remember.

“I asked you to have lunch with me after the meeting, you told me to go fuck myself because we’d just argued about?—”

“Zoning overlays,” I cut in, as it comes back to me.

“I asked if you’d have lunch at Olde Pink, and you said they don’t have okra on the menu and their acoustics are too good.”

How on earth does he remember something I can’t ?

He taps a finger to his temple. “I’m paying attention, Moonbeam.”

And he reads my mind!

I laugh, despite myself. “I almost threw my coffee at you that day.”

“I know. I was worried. You have an excellent throwing arm.”

The hostess takes us to a dockside table under soft lights.

The tide is low. Crickets are tuning up somewhere behind us.

We order a bottle of Chenin Blanc from South Africa to accompany our meal. The menu at The Wyld is short and simple. We order the crab roll, succotash, fish and shrimp tacos, and, of course, the okra.

“You sure that’s enough food?” he teases.

“Yep. I need to leave room for their key lime pie, though. It’s divine .”

He samples the wine, and when he nods to the server, he fills up our glass.

“To second dates,” I toast.

“And second chances.” He clinks his glass to mine.

I taste the wine once, and then again. It’s my first glass of the day, and you have to do it twice to get the full flavor of it.

“This is good.” I read the label: Alheit Fire by Night, 2022 .

“I know the winemaker,” he tells me.

I arch an eyebrow. “You do?”

“I met him at a wine auction. ”

Both eyebrows go up now. “You go to wine auctions?” Lev does too, but that’s because he’s a veritable wine snob.

He shrugs, a little sheepish. “I…uh…collect wine.”

“No kidding?”

“I rent space in a cellar in New York. Not too big. About eight hundred bottles, give or take.”

I blink. “That’s not small.”

He laughs. “What can I say? I like things that age well.”

I swirl the wine in my glass. “Any favorites?”

“I’ve got a bottle of Solaia 2004 I’m saving for something important. And an Ornellaia Masseto 2006—both from Tuscany. I also have a DRC ‘99 that I’ll probably never open. It’s just…nice knowing I own one.”

“Show off,” I murmur.

“You asked.”

“I like wine,” I admit. “But I don’t collect it. Lev’s the one with the fancy racks and inventory apps. I just raid his stash when I feel like it.”

Dom grins. “Sounds like an effective strategy.”

I take another sip. “Well, seeing you have some excellent wine, I might start raiding yours.”

“Anytime, Moonbeam.”

“ But your cellar is in New York.”

He puts his hand on mine. “I live in Savannah now.”

“In Lev’s pool house.”

“It’s temporary.”

“Until….”

He holds my gaze. “Until I have you, and then we decide where we want to live, together. ”

“Whoa!” I yank my hand away. “I…what the fuck, Dom? We’re on a second date.”

“I know.” He leans back and smells his wine, swirls it, and then drinks. “Baby, I’m waiting for you .”

“What if I never get there?” I ask, shocked at his candor.

“I can’t live with that possibility, so I’m not going to accept it as one.”

I’m saved from dealing with that statement slash threat because the server comes with our food.

For a while, we discuss the hospital project—HVAC milestones, delivery schedules, landscaping integration. Easy stuff. Familiar ground.

Then Dom shifts gears.

“Luna,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to say anything tonight. But I just want you to know, I’m all in.”

“I get that.” Boy, do I!

“No pressure, okay?”

Right! And hey, see, there’s a flying pig in a pink tutu.

I lick my lips. “I…want you…us. But Dom, you hurt me.”

“I know. Can I explain what happened?”

I close my eyes for a long moment and then open them. “How the hell would that change a damn thing?”

“Luna—”

“You cheated on me. Broke my heart. Broke me.”

“I—”

“I’ll cut your balls off if you ever do something like that again.”

He chuckles. “ Fair.”

“I don’t want to keep talking about the past. I fucked up, too when I spouted that garbage about how I’m societally superior and… fuck , that was awful of me.”

He takes my hand in his, brings it close to his lips, and kisses my knuckles. “Past in the past, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I feel it in my chest, that warm pulse of wanting to believe.

Dinner ends with pie and joy —the kind that I have not felt in years. Since Dom.

When we drive back, he holds my hand the whole way. I let him.

When he parks in my driveway, I say, huskily, “Walk me to my room.”

“Mama might be waiting inside with her spatula.” He strokes a finger down my cheek. “But you know what, I’ll brave it.”

“Miss Abigail is probably in bed,” I whisper, taking his hand in mine.

We sneak into my house like we’re teenagers again. Giggling as we go up the stairs to my bedroom.

My bedside lights are on when we get in, as they always are.

I close the door behind us and smile widely at him. There’s excitement in his eyes. There’s also… love .

I remember this feeling.

His darkening eyes burn into mine, and I can’t help but recall the first time I did this, when we were just kids, fumbling, both of us clueless but so eager .

He stands in front of my bed, head tilted as if he’s taking his fill of me.

I walk up to him, kiss him, and as I do, I unbutton his jeans, my nails scraping against the zipper as I pull it down slowly, teasing him, making him wait.

I push his jeans and underwear down and his cock springs free. Thick. Heavy. The tip is already glistening with precum.

I lick my lips, my mouth watering. I wrap my hand around the base, feeling the heat of him, the way his pulse throbs against my palm.

“Moonbeam.” His voice is a caress, a question.

“I wanna fool around,” I tell him saucily, and go to my knees.

I lean in, my breath hot against his shaft, and I can smell his scent—musky, primal, his. It makes me dizzy.

“Remember the first time.”

“Yeah.” His breath is ragged. I love that I do this to him. That I can.

I start slow, just like I did that first time in my bedroom.

We’d had sex by then, but I’d never given a blow job. He told me that I didn’t have to. I told him I wanted to.

My tongue flicks out, tracing the vein that runs along the underside of his cock, and he groans, his hips jerking forward.

I take the tip into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the sensitive head, tasting him—salty, sweet, perfect.

I remember how nervous I was back then, not knowing what I was doing, but now I’m older and more experienced .

“I’m going to make you lose your mind,” I warn.

“You already are.”

I take him deeper, inch by inch, my lips stretching around his girth.

My jaw aches, but I don’t care—I want all of him.

My hand works in rhythm with my mouth, stroking what I can’t fit inside.

I can feel him twitching, throbbing, like he’s about to explode.

I pull back, letting his cock slip from my lips with a wet pop. I look up at him again.

His chest is heaving, his fists clenched at his sides. I can see the hunger in his eyes.

“More,” he orders. “Suck me off, Luna.”

I love it when he gets like this, dominating, commanding.

I take him deeper this time, my throat opening up to swallow him whole.

I can feel him hitting the back of my throat. I gag a little, but I don’t stop.

I love the way he fills me up, the way he moans my name like I’m the only thing that matters in the world.

“Touch yourself, baby.”

I use my free hand to unzip my jeans. I rub my clit through my panties.

“Are you wet?” he growls.

“Yes.”

His moves, pulls me off of me.

“No. This is about you. I want this to be about you,” I plead.

He lets go.

I pick up the pace, bobbing my head up and down his cock, my lips tight around him, my tongue working every inch.

I can feel him getting closer. His hips buck uncontrollably, and I know he’s about to come.

I don’t stop.

I want to taste him.

I want to feel him explode in my mouth.

“Fuck, Luna.” His voice is rough. Desperate. “I’m gonna?—”

I don’t let him finish. I take him as deep as I can, and then I feel it—hot, thick ropes of cum shooting down my throat.

I swallow every drop, my tongue milking him for every last bit.

He’s shaking above me, his hands tangled in my hair. I can feel his legs trembling like he’s about to collapse.

When he finally pulls out, I sit back on my heels, licking my lips like a cat that got the cream.

He looks down at me, his chest still heaving, and there’s heat in his eyes, but also… love .

My pussy clenches.

He reaches down, pulling me to my feet, and then his mouth is on mine, kissing me like he’s trying to claim me all over again.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he murmurs against my lips .

“Stay the night,” I say.

“Yes.”

He all but lifts me and throws me on the bed. I giggle as I land on my butt.

“Your turn,” he says and then adds with a wink, “And mine .”

“Make me come, Dom.”

“Anything you want, Moonbeam.”