Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I take a steadying sip of wine. It’s dry, crisp, and a little briny. I stare at the half-dozen glistening shells in front of me. “What’s our first move?”
Harrison leans in, elbows resting on the white tablecloth. “It’s not too complicated. Let me show you.” He selects one of my oysters carefully. “This is a Beausoleil. East Coast.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is it supposed to be so…wet?”
“They’re meant to be messy.” With a grin, he hands me the oyster, guiding my fingers around it. “Tilt it, don’t slurp it. Let it slide. No chewing, unless you really want to taste the nuances.”
“Nuances?”
He chuckles. “Each oyster has its own personality. The Beausoleil? Gentle. The Shigoku over there?” He points to another. “That one is going to have more edge.”
I hesitate with the oyster halfway to my lips. “And what if I hate it?”
He shrugs. “Then we drink more wine and try again. It’s not about liking all of them. It’s about discovering which ones are worth savoring. Worst case, we can always order something else. I won’t have my date going hungry.”
“Fair enough.” I pause, staring the oyster down.
“You’re stalling.”
“I’m savoring the moment,” I reply. “Just like you told me.”
He gives a quiet laugh and lifts his own oyster. “Together?”
I nod and bring the shell to my lips. It’s cool, smooth, and strange. Then I tip it back.
Salt. Cream. A tiny flicker of something bright and metallic. The taste of the ocean, but silkier. A whisper of citrus and something floral. And then it’s gone.
I blink. “That was actually really good.”
“Mine, too,” Harrison says. “This place is great.”
It’s not long before we’ve finished both of our platters. Every single oyster was delicious in its own unique way. It took a second for me to get used to the consistency, but the taste was unlike anything I’d ever eaten before. I can’t believe I’ve been alive for nearly four decades and am just now trying these for the first time.
I’ll certainly be coming back to Brassica Rex soon.
And I hope it’s on Harrison O’Rourke’s arm.
He’s so effortlessly charming. He even makes eating oysters sexy.
In fact, I couldn’t help but notice how warm I was getting between my legs as he worked his way through every shell just now.
There’s something almost animalistic about the way he was slurping down each oyster. Kind of how he sucked between my legs…
We’ve already had sex, so it doesn’t matter that it’s our first date, right? We can repeat the act.
Hell, I sell my body to the highest bidder most nights at Aces. I’m not exactly a prim and proper goddess of virtue.
Harrison is a man. He certainly won’t say no to sex if I offer it to him.
But something in me wants to play a little. Act a little coy, see if he pursues me.
I grab my purse and get to my feet.
“Going somewhere?” Harrison asks.
I walk over to him and lean down so I can whisper into his ear. “Just going to powder my nose.” I dart my eyes around quickly to confirm that no one is looking, and then I nibble his earlobe gently.
He shudders, and I saunter away to the ladies’ room.
Hoping that he’ll pick up on my hint.
17
HARRISON
Damn it. I’m hard as a rock.
And these black slacks don’t hide a boner as well as jeans do.
I shift in my seat, hoping no one is looking as I discreetly tuck myself under the waistband of my underwear.
Fuck. Just being in Bianca’s presence turns me on. She even makes eating an oyster look sexy. And that little move just now, where she nibbled my earlobe in the middle of the restaurant… Holy shit.
Then it dawns on me.
Was that…an invitation?
I’ve been to Brassica a few times in the past. It’s a classy place.
Perhaps it’s the kind of restaurant where the bathroom stalls go all the way to the floor…
But… Bianca can’t possibly expect me to just waltz into the women’s restroom, stalls or otherwise. If the wrong person saw me, I’d be arrested on the spot. Hell, if I saw another man go into the bathroom after Bianca, I’d beat the shit out of him.
I could knock on the bathroom door…
But what if she didn’t mean to invite me?
I’ll look like a fucking creep.
And again, if someone else sees me, I’m done for.
Rock, meet hard place.
Emphasis on the “hard.”
Okay… What if the waiter came by our table, asked us what we wanted for our main course?
Bianca has to be back at Aces by eight, so it’s time sensitive.
I could text her.
But my phone could have died.
There we go.
It’s a flimsy-ass excuse, but it’ll do.
I stand up, subtly tucking my erection away as I do so, and saunter over to the door of the ladies’ restroom, knocking gently. “Bianca, you in there?”
No response.
I knock slightly louder. “The waiter asked about our next course. I know you have to be back by eight, so—”