“Oh yeah.” Those two syllables mimicked an orgasmic sigh.
“When you put it like that”—I shifted on my cushion and shot him a flirty grin—“I’ll make room.”
“Atta girl.” Reaching back into his magic picnic cooler, he carefully pulled out two parfait glasses with special plastic covers on them and handed one to me. Next he passed me a long spoon and said, “Dig in.”
I held the glass up to inspect its contents and felt my eyebrows climbing up my forehead. “Is this what I think it is?”
He poked his spoon into his dessert and tasted it, licking the spoon afterward. Watching his tongue curl over his spoon momentarily distracted me, my thighs clamping together at the sudden picture of that tongue curling over certain parts of me.
What’s wrong with me? We’re only sharing a picnic. On a practice field noless.
Yet the wicked gleam in those whiskey eyes said he knew exactly what thoughts that little move had put into my head.
“If you think it’s delicious, you’d be correct.”
Was it me, or had his voice dropped?
I dipped my spoon into my dessert and closed my eyes in delight as flavors of fluffy chocolate mousse and sweet-tart raspberry ganache filled my mouth. “Oh my God, how did you know this is my all-time favorite dessert?” My eyes popped open to catch him staring at my mouth.
Shifting on his cushion, his words came out on a rasp. “I took a chance that you might like my favorite dessert.”
“It’s so good.” I spooned another bite and moaned over the textures and flavors filling my mouth.
Finn cleared his throat. “Chessly Clarke, I didn’t take you for such a wicked woman.”
Only then did I notice his dessert had remained untouched.
“I thought you said chocolate-and-raspberry mousse was your favorite.” I pointed at his half-finished dessert. “If you don’t want to finish yours, I bet I can make room for it,” I teased.
“Wicked, wicked woman,” he muttered, throwing me a dark look.
I laughed.
So I wasn’t the only one thinking naughty thoughts while we ate our meal. I didn’t know what else he had planned for the evening, but I had a good idea I was going to enjoy it.
Chapter Eighteen
Finn
This girl. Chesslykilled me the second she arrived in the lobby of her dorm. That oversize sweater made her gorgeous blue eyes pop and emphasized the perfect handfuls of her hips and those long, long legs in her tight jeans. The way her eyes sparkled with curiosity and fun when I played with her on the ride over to the facility told me I’d read her right when I planned our first date.
All through dinner she never let me up, wrapping her plump pink lips over a hummus covered celery stick, groaning with pleasure as she noshed on a succulent meatball, teasing me with her eyes as she dabbed olive relish from her sandwich from the corner of her mouth with her napkin. She’d left me semi-hard from the minute we sat down to eat.
Then she went to work on her dessert, that pink tongue touring those kissable lips, licking off every last taste of the chocolate-raspberry treat, and I thought I’d lose my mind. Before Chessly, I had no idea sharing a meal with someone could be so damn sexy.
“Next time I’ll order two desserts for you.” I smiled.
“Next time we could just have dessert for dinner,” she said as she set her empty parfait glass on our makeshift table.
I liked that both of us were already talking about another date before our first one was even over.
“You want anything else?” I nodded toward the cooler beside me. “I have a couple more beers in here, but we might want them later since the next part of the evening has the potential to leave us parched.”
She blinked. “This isn’t it? A romantic picnic in the middle of a football field?”
“Epic, remember?” My lips twitched as I watched her process. “A picnic doesn’t rise to the challenge.” I started putting away the remnants of our meal—which, admittedly, I’d eaten the lion’s share of, but I’d planned for that.
Wordlessly, Chessly pitched in to help. In a couple of minutes, we’d put the picnic away and stacked the blankets neatly on top of the cushions and the pallet I’d used for a table.
