He set his glass down slowly, never breaking eye contact. “Angel.” His tone dipped into something darker. “If I stop being polite right now, dinner’s gonna take a lot longer than planned. That what you want?”
I felt my face warm. “I want you to be yourself, that’s all I’m saying. If you wanna be mannish, then be mannish. If you want to be a gentleman, be a gentleman. If you wanna be both for Big Momma, be both.”
I winked at him, and he grinned for a brief second.
“Alright.” He smiled—not the polite one from before, but something sharper. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He stood up, and I thought he was going to the kitchen. Instead, he came around to my side of the table. Pulled his chair next to mine. Sat down close enough that his thigh pressed against mine.
“Better,” he said. “I don’t want to sit all the way over there when you’re right here.”
I steadied myself. “What about—”
“What about what?” He poured more wine into my glass, even though I’d barely touched it. “You worried about space? Personal boundaries?”
“No, I—”
“Good. Because I’ve been dying to be close to you.” His hand rested on the back of my chair. Not touching me, but close enough that I could feel the heat. “This okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll tell me if it’s not?”
“I will.”
“That's my baby,” He stood again. “Now let me feed you before I forget what I came out here to do.”
The ‘good girl’ had me feeling some type of way. I wasn’t ready to unpack that.
A few servers met him, and he brought out the food, and the table looked like a damn commercial spread—Oysters Rockefeller, pan-seared salmon, steak tips, asparagus, and mushroom risotto. It all smelled incredible, but I could barely focus on the plates. His thigh was back pressedagainst mine, his arm draped across the back of my chair, refusing to allow space to exist between us. His presence was so heavy.
“What should we start with?” he asked.
There was a lot to choose from, but my eyes went straight to the oysters. I pointed, and he was already reaching, already squeezing lemon over one before bringing it to my mouth.
The first hit was the heat from the shell, then the creamy sauce, then the oyster itself. I closed my eyes and let it slide over my tongue, a low sound slipping out of me before I could catch it.
“Oh my God,” I exhaled, licking the last of the sauce from my lips. “That’s crazy.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes locked on my mouth. “I think that might be the sexiest shit I’ve seen in a minute. You gotta relax.”
“You knew what you were doing,” I said, giving him a look.
“I did.” He picked up his fork but still hadn’t taken a bite. “You have no idea how good you look right now, Lo.”
My pulse hammered in my ears.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We ate in silence for a few minutes, but it wasn’t awkward. It was electric. Every time his leg shifted against mine. Every time I reached for my wine, our arms brushed. Every time I looked up and caught him already looking at me was a moment I’d be replaying for days to come.
“You going to tell me how you managed to rent out an entire restaurant on a Friday night?” I asked.
He smiled. “I didn’t rent it.”
“Then how—”
