“Come here,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
“We’re in a restaurant,” she pointed out, but her smile was pure mischief.
“I don’t care.”
She stood, and for a moment I thought she might actually walk around the table. Instead, she leaned forward, one hand braced on the table, bringing her face close to mine. “Is this close enough?”
The candlelight caught in her hair, and I could smell her perfume – something floral that she only wore on special occasions. “Not even remotely.”
“Then you’ll have to suffer.” But she kissed me anyway, soft and promising, before pulling back with a grin. “At least until we get home.”
The waiter appeared with our appetizers, and Chloe settled back into her seat, looking entirely too pleased with herself. Itried to focus on the food, but she kept catching my eye across the table, her foot sliding up the inside of my calf under the table.
“You’re playing dirty,” I said.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She took a slow bite of bruschetta, looking completely innocent.
“Chloe.”
“Sam.” She mimicked my tone perfectly, then laughed at my expression. “Relax. I’m just enjoying having you all to myself. No interruptions, no four-year-old asking why people kiss.” Her foot slid higher. “Just us.”
I caught her ankle under the table, my thumb pressing against the delicate bone. “Just us.”
“Besides,” she continued, her voice taking on that teasing lilt I hadn’t heard in months, “I seem to remember you mentioning you had ‘a few ideas’ about how to spend our date night. I’m merely expressing my interest in hearing more about those ideas.”
“Here? Now?”
“Why not?” She leaned forward again, elbows on the table, chin in her hands. “Tell me what you were thinking when you kissed me earlier.”
This was the Chloe I’d fallen in love with – confident, playful, unafraid to push back or tease me. She’d been cautious for so long after she came home, careful with her words, measured in her affection. But now? Now she was looking at me like she had all the power and knew exactly what she was doing with it.
“I was thinking,” I said, keeping my voice low, “about how long it’s been since we had the house to ourselves.”
“Four weeks,” she supplied immediately. “Not that I’ve been counting.”
“Not that you’ve been counting,” I echoed, fighting a smile.
“And I was thinking about how patient you’ve been. The way we’ve been rebuilding everything slowly, carefully.” I paused,watching her pupils dilate. “But maybe tonight we don’t have to be quite so careful.”
Her breath caught, just slightly. “No?”
“No.” I raised her hand to my lips again, this time letting my teeth graze her knuckles. “Tonight I want to remind you exactly why you chose me.”
“Sam Mitchell.” Her voice was breathless, delighted. “Are you trying to seduce me in the middle of this restaurant?”
“Is it working?”
She pulled her hand back, but only so she could take a long sip of wine, her eyes never leaving mine. When she set the glass down, her smile was wicked. “Ask me again when we get home.”
The rest of dinner passed in a haze of loaded glances and deliberate touches. Chloe fed me a bite of her pasta, her fingers lingering at my lips. I let my hand rest on her thigh when I leaned over to tell her something, feeling her shiver under my touch.
When the waiter asked about dessert, we both said “no” at the same time, and Chloe laughed at how quickly I requested the check. “In a hurry?” she asked innocently.
“You know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
“I do.” She stood, smoothing her dress down, and I caught a glimpse of the confidence that had been missing – the certainty that she had me, that we had each other, that nothing was going to come between us this time. “And I plan to keep doing it. All night.”
I left cash on the table – more than enough to cover the bill and a generous tip – and followed her out of the restaurant, my hand on the small of her back.
