Page 35 of One Night Stand After Another
He shook his head. “Did you just turn that into a challenge on purpose?”
She shrugged. “There’s no downside to this plan for me, however it works out. Carte blanche on a chocolate bar? Yes, please. A guy who wants to feed me chocolate and get me off? Oh yes.” She nodded. “In fact, I straight-up challenge you. I bet you can’t make that happen.”
Zane arched a sexy brow. “Do I get a sweater if I do?”
That green yarn flashed in her mind’s eye. “Sorry, pal—you’re not sweater material.”
His smile flickered, but then he stroked his hand down her back, fingering the wool wrap she’d made on the drive to Chicago. “You, on the other hand, are definitely sweater material,” he said. “This is beautiful.”
She’d used her memories of last night as inspiration. He’d made her come so many times, she’d dreamed fiery starbursts all night. Since she’d bought several skeins of gorgeous red, orange, and pink yarn, the shawl had basically knitted itself into a blazing sunburst. It was perfect paired with a little black dress that showed her cleavage to excellent advantage. Zane casually tugged the shawl aside. She readjusted it to cover her boobs.
“This dress is sexy with a shawl. It’s a little too much without it.”
He shook his head. “Depends on your perspective. I like your beautiful new sweater.” He leaned to whisper in her ear, “But I fucking love your tits. Humor me? Let me look at them while we enjoy dessert?”
Slowly, she nodded. He stroked the edges of her shawl to the sides. Her breath caught. Her nipples peaked and her breasts swelled. Lower, she began to tingle and ache. She was going to feel his gaze like a touch all night.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
She had to concentrate to breath normally. “Thank you.”
“Let’s do this.” He guided her to a truffle tower. “Which ones strike your fancy?”
She consulted the menu until her cheeks stopped flaming and she could focus on the glossy confections in front of her. “Raspberry zinfandel and brandied apricot, please.” The server used tiny tongs to put them on a plate.
Zane chose burned bourbon and hazelnut croquant.
As they drifted toward the next station, plates in hand, Zane asked, “You know what else I like?”
She shook her head, slowly raising a truffle to her lips. Her mouth watered as the smooth chocolate touched it. She closed her lips around the bite-sized delight, letting the warmth of her mouth melt the dark shell.
He stayed close to her. Their bodies touched ever so slightly, keeping her aware of his proximity. Deep, dark, sinfully rich chocolate kissed her tongue. Raspberry and wine burst in her mouth, swirling into a perfect pleasure for her senses. Zane’s rough voice whispered, “The way your nipples are so soft until I pinch them. They’re not soft now, though, are they?”
Arousal heightened her senses, making the chocolate sweeter, the wine headier, and the ache in her core sharper. She chewed and swallowed, taking her time enjoying the finish. “I thought you were going to wait until we were upstairs.”
He shrugged. “You challenged me.”
“So I did.” She stepped back until she was leaning against him and rolled her hips in a subtle grind that brought the upper curve of her ass against what was definitely his hard cock. She glanced over her shoulder as she slipped another truffle in her mouth. “Tell me more.”
His quick inhale was gratifying. So was the fact he hadn’t touched his truffles. “Are you going to eat those?” she asked, gesturing at his plate.
He held it out of reach, stepping back. “The only way you get my truffles is by tasting them on my tongue, you witch.”
“Maybe later.” She sauntered toward the next station. “This looks right up my alley.”
The server smiled and handed her a pre-plated flight of chocolate mousse. The cleverly designed plate held five spoons, each nestled so the perfect mouthful of piped mousse remained steady. There was no garnish. No adornment. Just a dark rainbow of mousse that went from mocha-colored milk-chocolate to a deep, dark-walnut shade of bittersweet chocolate. She started with the darkest shade.
“I have to admire the simplicity of the presentation. Pure and clean,” Zane said. “Unlike my thoughts when I watch you lick that spoon.”
She smiled and did it again. Zane matched her spoon for spoon. The milk chocolate was sweet. The darkest chocolate barely had any sugar at all. Clara liked the one in the middle the best.
“Delicious, but I like a little zip, a little zest. Maybe some texture?” She arrowed to the next station. “Oh, baby.”
It looked like a steampunk furnace or something that belonged in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, with moving parts, ramps, and spouts. Chocolate poured into the cutest little buckets she’d ever seen. Servers stood behind the line, dipping strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, apricots, and apples into the melted chocolate.
“I want to drink that,” Clara breathed.
Zane lifted a hand and spoke with a server. By the time she made it through the line and selected an assortment of chocolate-dipped berries, Zane had a cup of melted chocolate in his hand.
