Page 66 of Yours To Take
I smile around the bite. “Sorry. Too slow.”
“I feel like I need to punish you.”
“Oh, yeah?” I cross my legs and turn toward him. “What would that entail?”
Blake walks his fingers up my leg. Each soft caress has my stomach exploding with butterflies.
“Oh, I think the punishment would be keeping the specifics to myself and letting you stew.”
He pulls his hand away and I miss the heat of his touch. “That’s just mean.”
“Payback.” Blake grabs the last quail appetizer and pops it into his mouth. “Now, tell me about the main courses.”
“Chef made two main courses for us. We have seared Idaho steelhead trout—”
“You said we couldn’t eat it,” Blake complains.
“When we’re fishing like that, no. It’d be wasteful. But they caught these sustainably, so we’re not hurting them.”
Blake points to the dish now on his plate. “But this could’ve been the trout I caught?”
“If you want to tell yourself that, then he’s the fish you caught.”
He looks so proud of himself. “Then I definitely caught this fish.”
“The second dish,” I say as I circle back, “is herb-crusted elk loin with grilled asparagus.”
Blake spears a small bite of the elk and chews. “I don’t think I’ve ever had something this flavorful before.”
“Really? You lived in Paris.” I cut off a piece of the fish and pop it in my mouth.
“Where my major food groups consisted of pasta and pastries. I was too young to appreciate it and haven’t been back since.”
“Well, I’m glad I can teach you a thing or two.”
“You are, Gemma. You are.”
We eat the main courses in companionable silence. Even having worked at the ranch since I was young, I’ve never really had the chance to experience the chef’s tasting in its full grandeur. Sure, I always have a meal here or there when I’m working, but nothing this extravagant.
Getting to experience it for the first time with Blake? It’s special.
“I don’t know if I have room for dessert.” Blake sips on his wine. “I’m stuffed.”
“You’ll think twice once you see it.”
I open the last dish. “Dessert is blackberry crisp with a strawberry whipped cream.”
Blake moves in close, dragging his nose up the length of my neck. “Think we can save some of that whipped cream for later?”
“Oh, yeah?”
Blake tugs my earlobe between his teeth. “I’m suddenly famished and need to lick it off every part of you.”
I gulp down the rest of my wine.
“Then what are you waiting for?”
ChapterEighteen
