Exquisiteis the only word I can think of to describe how absolutely breathtaking she looks.
She’s straightened her hair, and it falls down her back and over her shoulders in a dark, glossy curtain. The smokiness of her makeup compliments the black dress she’s wearing, making her look like some kind of dark goddess.
That dress…
Fuck, it fits hers body like a glove but still leaves enough to be desired.
And man, do I desire to rip it off her and fuck her right now.
“Hi,” I say, albeit a bit stupidly. She and Ebony exchange a look. They have some kind of sisterly telepathic conversation before Essence starts giggling.
When she turns back to me, she says, “You look so handsome.” She reaches out and runs a hand down my arm, and I think I might actually pass out. My dick is already hardening in my pants.
Fuck.
“You’re—uhhh…”
She raises her eyebrows expectantly, waiting for a compliment, but I’m so flustered by her that I can’t find the words I want to say.
“He’s speechless,” Ebony says, amused.
I clear my throat. “Are you ready?”
She nods and grabs a black peacoat off the hook by the front door and kisses her sister on the cheek. Then she slides her hand into mine and gives me a warm smile that nearly brings me to my fucking knees.
“Take care of my baby sister, Dante,” Ebony says. Her demeanor is pleasant, but I don’t miss the dangerous undertone to her words.
I’ve killed before, so there’s not much I'm afraid of, but getting on an older sister’s bad side isn’t on my bingo card for this year.
“I will,” I say quietly.
And I mean that. Essence already knows that I would die before I ever intentionally hurt her. She’s everything to me, and I intend to cherish her forever.
Ebony stands at the front door with Matthew on her hip and watches the two of us walk down the driveway to my truck. I help Essence get in before getting into the driver’s side and pulling away.
We drive in silence for a little bit, both of us too nervous to say anything. Instead, Essence places her hand on my thigh while I drive.
I’m so fucking hard right now that any kind of contact with her has me desperately yearning to sink myself deep inside of her.
Twenty minutes later, we pull up to the front of the restaurant. I hand the valet attendant my keys and help Essence down, then we go inside.
It’s Friday night, so the dining room is packed to capacity. We have to wait a little while after our reservation time for a table to open up, but I'm not mad about it; Essence and I talk about Lunchbox and Matthew while we wait.
“Mr. Romano,” the host says as he walks to where Essence and I are standing by the door. “Your table is ready now.”
I give him a small, but appreciative smile. “Thank you.”
Taking Essence’s small hand in mine, I pull her along behind me as we follow the host to a table in the back of the restaurant. It’s in a shadowy corner, but I personally don’t mind. My mindconjures up a bunch of things I can do to her back here where no one will pay any attention to us.
The host sets a couple of menus down on the table and pulls out Essence’s chair for her. I bristle at the action even though I know it’s innocent—I want to be the only man to do anything for her.
Her eyes are on me as she thanks him, which soothes my ego.
“So, what do you usually order when you come here?” she asks, perusing her menu.
“The carbonara is my favorite,” I tell her, looking at my own menu. “This place makes it more authentically than other Italian American restaurants.”
She smiles and looks at me over the top of her menu. “I’ll try it.”
