He blinked, confused but intrigued. “What?”
I grabbed his wrist and brought his hand up, locking eyes with him the whole time.
And then I sucked his fingers. One by one.
Slow. Deliberate. My tongue wrapped around each one like I was savoring a whole second course.
His pupils dilated so fast I thought he was about to pass out.
His voice dropped. “Lyrix…”
“What?” I asked, all innocent.
He grabbed my hand without warning and returned the favor. Except when he sucked my fingers, he damn near swallowed my whole hand. He wasmoaning, deep-throating my index finger like he forgot we were in public.
“MAISON!” I whisper-yelled, jerking my hand back and trying not to slide off the bench from howhotthat made me.
He wiped his mouth and just looked at me like I was the next course.
I leaned in and whispered, “Yeah… let’s hurry up and get the fuck away from here.”
He grabbed the tray of drinks and bagged up what was left, and I knew… this day was far from over.
We pulled up to the hotel, full from all that seasoned seafood and slightly tipsy from whatever liquor was in that plastic to-go cup.
I reached for the door handle, but Maison was already out, jogging around to open it for me like the Southern gentleman he was—well, Southern gentleman with a nasty mouth and hands that had no business being that good.
As I stepped out, he kissed my cheek, and I smiled.
“You ain’t gotta walk me in, I’m good,” I said, digging in my purse for my keycard.
“Hold on,” he said quickly, and jogged back toward the trunk.
I paused. “Wait, what are you doing?”
He opened the trunk, shuffled some things around, and then slammed it shut. When he came back around the car, he was holding a full bouquet of flowers in one hand… and in the other was a damn poster board.
I blinked. “Uh, Maison… what the hell is this?”
He grinned and flipped the board around.
It was decorated in Mardi Gras colors, full of purple hearts, green glitter, and little cut-out beads drawn with a silver marker. The whole thing looked like someone’s kindergarten project, but also the sweetest, most charming thing I’d ever seen.
In big, bold, bubble letters it read:
“Will you be my Valentine?”
Underneath it was two boxes with Yes or No.
I started laughing so hard, I nearly dropped my purse. “MAISON! What is this?!”
He pulled a black marker from his pocket like he had this planned all day. “My own version of a vision board,” he said with a smirk.
“Well you’re creative,” I teased, still grinning. “Now you have me checking boxes.”
“Literally,” he said, holding out the marker.
I took it from his hand, my heart doing cartwheels in my chest.
