Page 93 of Thick

He stood, got the lasagna, and placed it in the center of the table. After pouring two glasses of wine, he got the salad out of the refrigerator. “I got all the vegetables at the farmer’s market, not the supermarket. I know it doesn’t matter on points, but they’re supposed to be better for you.”

“It looks great.”

He put a healthy scoop of lasagna on my plate, and gave me a separate plate of salad, some sliced peppers, and a glass of wine.

“Here goes nothing,” he said.

I took a bite of the lasagna. It might have been that I hadn’t eaten it in ten years, or that I really wanted it after we’d talked about it. It very well could have been that what he cooked was insanely fantastic.

Whatever the reason, I went bug-eyed after my first bite. “Holy crap. This is good.”

He took a bite. After he swallowed, he wagged his eyebrows. “That is pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” I gave him a stern look. “It’s great.”

We ate our wonderful dinner, laughed about being on diets, and discussed how food had become such an important part of everyone’s lives. After we finished our wine, we moved to the couch and relaxed.

He put a record on the turntable. As the music began to play, I smiled. “Marvin Gaye?”

“It is. It’s his greatest hits record.”

In my father’s words, Marvin Gaye’s music was music for fucking. As Tate inched closer to me on the couch, I wondered if my father was right.

He turned my head to the side and planted a kiss on me that made my head spin. It wasn’t like the other times we’d kissed. It was slightly aggressive, and infused with passion. My entire body went numb during the kiss, and when our lips parted, I began to ache for more.

I licked my lips and looked at him.

He reached for my hand. Not one to argue about anything when it came to sex, I followed his lead and stood.

He lifted my dress over my head.

Dear God.

The time had come.

Apparently, we reached eighty-five percent while we were sitting on the couch.

Standing in front of him wearing nothing more than a bra and panties, I quickly became self-conscious. After looking me up and down, he took a step back and shook his head.

“Fucking hell,” he said under his breath.

“What?”

“You look fanfuckingtastic.”

“Really?”

He nodded eagerly. “Really.”

My face went hot. I knew I didn’t, but it was nice to hear him say.

Before I realized what he was doing, he knelt in front of me, reached for my hips, and hooked his thumbs around the waist of my panties. I looked at him in disbelief as he tugged them down my legs and cast them aside.

After kissing the inside of my thighs from my knees to my crotch, he stood. With his eyes fixed on mine, he pulled his shirt over his head, tossed it aside, and then unbuttoned his jeans.

I had yet to see him without his shirt on, and now that he was naked from the waist up, I was aghast.

His abs had abs.