Page 134 of Until August

“You know it, baby.”

I watched him round the hood, and then he climbed into the driver’s seat and backed out of my driveway, and I couldn’t stop staring at him.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, glancing over at me.

“You. I just can’t get enough.”

“Of my ugly mug?”

“Yeah, your ugly mug.” I laughed and settled back in my seat. I didn’t even care where we were going. I’d be happy to go to In-N-Out and eat burgers and fries in his truck.

A little while later, he ushered me into the Spanish restaurant with his hand on the small of my back. “Our reservation isn’t until eight,” he said. “Let’s grab a drink at the bar.”

So casual. Like we were a real couple, and this was our norm.

The restaurant was cool, upscale with mood lighting, moody blue walls, and a burnished gold bar. A date night place.

It wasn’t cheap, and I worried about the prices as I scanned the bar menu. I knew August wouldn’t let me split the bill, so I tried to stop him from ordering just about every tapas plate available.

“We don’t need all that.” Even as I said the words, my mouth watered from the scent of garlic. The couple next to us was served some of the same dishes we’d ordered.

“You know how I feel about eating with you.” His hand curled around my hip as he leaned in close, his lips brushing the side of my neck, his voice low and seductive in my ear. “It’s the ultimate foreplay.”

August loved to watch me eat. He loved to feed me, too, and claimed that I moaned like I was having an orgasm. It made him hard.

“Stop worrying and just enjoy yourself,” he said when the bartender served our drinks. A glass of rioja for me, beer for August.

I smiled and lifted my glass in a toast. “Here’s to our first official date.” I clinked my glass against his, took a sip of wine, and nearly swooned at how good it was.

Then I swooned some more when August set down his beer and smiled at me. The kind of smile that made your knees weak and your heart skip a beat.

“You look beautiful,” he said. “Youarebeautiful.”

And I felt so beautiful under his warm gaze that I forgot all my reasons for not wanting to go on an actual date. Because why shouldn’t I be allowed to flirt and smile and accept a compliment from a man who already knew me so well yet still made this feel like a special occasion.

“You look beautiful, too.”

“First pretty, and now this,” he said with mock disgust. “Do I have to remind you that I’m a man?”

I shook my head, smiling. “Nope. But you can show me later.”

“But first, foreplay,” he said when the bartender set our plates of tapas on the bar and August fed me an Iberian ham croquette. I moaned with pleasure, primarily for his benefit, and reciprocated by feeding him a salted Padron pepper.

All I could see was him. His perfect lips. His veiny hands. His tousled hair.

I’d fallen so completely that now it was laughable that I’d ever believed it could bejust sex.

When we finished our tapas and were seated at our table with our seafood paella in front of us, I didn’t even need more food or that second glass of wine.

I just wanted to go back to his place, tumble onto the bed with him and do all the things we were so good at. I wanted to be wrapped up in his strong arms, kissing him until my lips were raw and swollen.

“You have some sauce…” August leaned across the table, brushed his thumb over the corner of my mouth, and then sucked on it. “Mm. You taste good.”

I laughed, but those butterflies were back in full force.

He didn’t even notice how our waitress had lingered at our table after she’d served our food or how she kept walking past, sneaking looks at him. He only had eyes for me.

Women were attracted to August. His height. His broad shoulders and narrow waist. His gorgeous face. The way he carried himself. Like he owned every room he entered. He commanded attention simply by being himself.