The minute he sees me, his jaw drops.
“Fuck. Me.” Marcus grabs my hips and steps inside. “Harper. You look?—”
“Good?” I tease, draping my arms over his shoulders. Even with my tallest, black heels on, I’m still shorter than Marcus.
“Fucking delicious.”
Marcus runs a hand up my side, under my blazer, and drinks his fill of me. His brown eyes are a riot of emotions.
Want. Need. Awe. Excitement.
“You know, we should probably get going so we don’t miss our reservation.”
“Reservation?” Marcus asks. The lust in his voice has my body humming in anticipation for this night.
“Dinner? The meal you’re taking me out to eat.” I smile at him. “You need to feed me before you do anything else.”
That earns me a smile.
“Still the same old Harper.”
I pat the hard muscles of his chest under his black shirt. “C’mon. The sooner we eat, the sooner you can bring me home.”
“Wow, Marcus. This place looks great.”
The small seafood restaurant is quaint. Wooden tables hold flickering candles. Blue-and-white gingham-cushioned chairs sit at each table. Couples huddle together over shared meals as we bypass all of them for a secluded booth in the back.
“Enjoy your meal.”
The host sets down two menus and leaves us be.Marcus pulls out my chair for me before taking the one next to me.
“I got the recommendation from Jasper. If it’s terrible, we can blame him.”
I wink at him. “You know I love seafood.”
Marcus drops his elbows on the table and leans close. “Still a Cali girl, I see.”
I mirror him, getting impossibly close. “You know oysters are still my favorite, right?”
He groans, shutting his eyes. His lashes kiss the top of his cheeks. I remember always being so jealous of his eyelashes.
Why do men always get blessed with the best ones?
“Are you trying to drive me crazy, Harper?”
I adjust my bodysuit, watching as Marcus picks up on the movement. “I don’t know. Seems to come pretty naturally to me.”
“What am I going to do with you?”
I grab the menu, hiding behind it. “I can think of a few things.”
God, I’ve missed flirting. This fun, back-and-forth with a man who knows exactly what to say to stir up all kinds of things inside of me. No man has ever matched Marcus in that regard.
“Welcome to Southern Hospitality. What can I get you both to drink?” our waiter asks us with a friendly smile in place.
“Sparkling water for me,” Marcus tells him.
“Rosé for me.”
