Page 40 of Deliverance

I open my mouth to answer when a hand raises, catching my attention. My eyes move to see Maggie waving me over to a booth in the back. The hostess glances over before nodding, gesturing me to walk over.

When I get to the booth, Maggie slides out, pulling me in for a hug and a brief kiss on the cheek that looks platonic on the outside but feels like anything but on the inside. Or at least in my insides.

I can’t help but run my eyes over her body. As I live and breathe, Maggie Bartlett is willingly wearing a dress. Granted, it’s black and very simple, but she looks beautiful, nonetheless.

“Thanks for meeting me!” She smiles as the hostess sets down our menus and silverware.

“Yeah,” I say slowly, unsure how to play along until the hostess leaves.

Then Maggie instantly reaches across the table, intertwining our fingers together.

“Hi,” she says, her black lipstick lips spreading into a smirk.

I smile back. “Hi,” I say, before doing another cursory scan of the room.

“We’re fine, B. We’re friends. Friends can’t hold hands?” Maggie asks.

I lift an eyebrow at her.

“With your reputation and that lovesick look in your eyes, you really think everyone would believe we are just friends?”

She makes a face at my words and I pause before realizing that I basically just accused her of being in love with me. I open my mouth to apologize when she waves me off, shaking her head with a smile.

“You have a point, but everyone knows what a stick up your ass, cock loving bitch you are, so…” She shrugs with that smile still in place.

My mouth drops a little because I’ll never get used to how Maggie Bartlett completely calls me out; not an ounce of regret to be found. I can’t lie, a fucked up part of me kind of likes it. I’ve always been the queen bee. The shot caller. At least mostly, but I don’t feel like that with Maggie. She seems to be the one running the show, and I don’t know why I’m oddly okay with it.

The waiter comes over, bringing us a glass bottle of water and some olive oil with bread before leaving once more. I stare at the bread for a moment before turning to look at the salads portion of the menu. I’m only two pounds away from my goal weight and nothing will get in the way of that.

“I swear to god, baby B, if you do not have a piece of bread I’m going to stab you with my fork,” Maggie says with a shake of her head as she dips a piece of bread into olive oil and takes a bite.

“I’m fine,” I say.

“Liar,” she snarks. “Here, just close your eyes.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it,” she says, likeI’mthe exhausting one. Can you believe it?

“Fine,” I huff as I close my eyes, awaiting what? I’m not sure.

I feel Maggie shift against the table before she presses something to my lips.

“Open,” she says.

“Maggie, I?—”

“Now,” she says in an authoritative tone that has a shiver running down my back and my mouth parting.

A small piece of bread is slipped into my mouth, and I can’t help but moan at the delicious flavor. God, I love bread. Why does it have to make you fat? Bread is so fucking good.

“Good girl,” Maggie says softly. “I’d love to see you feed yourself,” she says as she grabs another piece of bread and places it in my hand.

I happily accept this piece, but notice Maggie hasn’t taken her fingers out of my mouth. My eyes open. I watch as Maggie slowly pulls her fingers out of my mouth, sucking them into her own as she watches me. That seductive look is heavy in her gaze as she pulls her fingers free, resting her hand on her lap just in time for the waiter to come over.

I almost jolt when he does before Maggie orders for the both of us.

“I’ll have the seafood fettuccine, and my friend will have the chicken parmesan.”