As if timed, the door behind him swished open, and the waitress entered carrying dessert, a single plate with the chocolate soufflé dusted with powdered sugar and drizzled with the raspberry reduction, and two forks. The sommelier entered with the final wine of the evening and two glasses. After having Dom sample it, he poured a glass for each of them and disappeared.
Piano music reached a crescendo over the previously silent hidden speakers in the chef’s dining room. They both looked up, then at the soufflé, and back to each other with mirrored smiles. “A little mood music?” asked Dom.
Calli lifted one of the forks. “Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata is one of my favorites.”
“Then I guessed right.” Dom cut into the soufflé, and they chuckled as it released a puff of steam and deflated. He scooped up a bite and offered it to Calli. Dom’s pulse leapt as she leaned in, opening her delicate mouth for the prize. He couldn’t let his mind go there just yet. “Now, follow it up with the wine,” he said.
Her eyes danced.
“That sensation . . . chefs refer to it as joie de vivre.”
“It’s nearly orgasmic!” she blurted. Calli’s eyes went wide and she raised her napkin to her lips, but he caught the O her lips made before she covered her mouth and shook her head.
Dom reached for her hand and pulled the napkin away to reveal her pointed little chin, the lower half of her heart-shaped face. After she slowly dropped the napkin into her lap, he said, “Don’t be embarrassed. Food can be highly—” He paused, holding her eyes, wanting to ensure his suggestion was understood. He couldn’t believe how much he wanted this woman. From that first night in his restaurant, to the gym and the coffee shop, to their real first kiss this evening, he desired her more than he could imagine. “—pleasurable.”
“Yeah, um, well, I didn’t have to be quite so crude,” she said.
“Really? I’m mildly enchanted.”
“Now you’re just being nice.” It bit that she brushed off his advance, that she obviously missed his meaning.
“I’m not. Truly, I’m being anything but nice.”
Calli fanned herself and said, “Is it hot in here? Maybe I’ve had too much wine.”
Still frustrated with her dismissal, he stood and stepped to her side of the table, grasping her hand. She allowed him to pull her to standing, and he wrapped one hand around her waist. With the other, he reached for the soufflé and dipped one finger into the hot and moist center. They swayed slightly to the backdrop of classical piano as he swiped the warm chocolate across her lower lip. Calli gasped but he shushed her. “My turn to taste,” he said and licked her bottom lip. Without taking his eyes from her intense chocolate stare and with a wicked grin, he reached for a glass and drank.
Dom held the wine in his mouth as he set the glass back onto the table, then moaned, rolling his eyes in pleasure as he swallowed. “Oui, joie de vivre.”
When their eyes met again, Calli laid a hand on his chest and breathily asked, “What does that mean?”
“Literally, it means joy of life. As does the more common joie de vie. But joie de vivre has an ongoing quality . . . kind of like living the joy.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, oh,” she said, but gave a hint of a smile that encouraged him on.
Dom inhaled her floral-vanilla scent, almost as intoxicating as the wine, and said, “Maybe the wine is going to my head too.”
They swayed with the music, and as the song drew to a close, they stopped. Dom couldn’t banish the kiss before dinner from his mind, and he wanted more . . . so much more . . . now. “I’m going to kiss you,” he warned.
Calli’s tongue darted out, wetting her lips.
He crushed his mouth to hers, tasting the chocolate and wine, and another dance began.
Calli
Calli hadn’t felt so carefree in years. After that searing kiss, her body had been loose and hungry for more. They’d both been a bit tipsy as they’d wandered through the skywalks to The Jazz. They’d cuddled up on a sofa in the back of the club and enjoyed the crooning saxophone soloist as they shared another bottle of wine. The evening grew late, and she doubted either were in shape to drive. Sadly, she’d probably have to end up ordering a Ryde, but for now, she was comfortable here in Dom’s arms, and going home to an empty house wasn’t something she was ready to face.
The club had cleared, and they were left almost alone in the back. Dom took her empty glass and placed it next to his on the table before them, then turned back to her. Twining his fingers with hers, he looked down, appearing a little rueful himself. “Calli, tonight has been truly remarkable.”
“Thank you,” she said. “For everything. I haven’t been on a date since, well, I don’t remember my last date.”
He shook his head. “No, thank you for joining me.”
“Anytime,” she said and found herself meaning it. She actually hoped he’d ask for a second date.
Instead, he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. “Calli?”
“Mmm?” she answered.
Dom inhaled sharply, then said, “This may be forward, but would you like to come to my loft?”
Her heart stopped. She held her breath. She shouldn’t.
He rushed to add, “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but I’m not ready to leave you. I don’t think either of us is in a condition to drive. If you want to go home instead, I’ll order a car and see you to your house first.” He looked around, then smiled back at her. “Whatever you want.” He dropped his head to her neck.
Chills ran up her spine as he peppered soft kisses from her shoulder to her ear. Her body betrayed her, heat gathering low in her stomach. Her throat was tight, but she considered his suggestion. What did she really have to lose? Her boys wouldn’t know; they were at their father’s. She wasn’t married. There wasn’t really a good reason for her to deny what her body begged her to accept. She placed a hand on his bicep and shrugged back to search his piercing, hungry, green-gray eyes. At length, she said, “I should probably go home.”
He sank further into the couch.
But feeling a bit devious, she cuddled into him. “But I don’t want to just yet.”
A grin spread across his face and lit his eyes.
Calli swallowed. “I don’t want to give the wrong impression, though.”
Questions were written all over Dom’s face as he regarded her.
“I’ve told you that I’m not ready for anything serious.”
Dom lifted her hand and kissed her thumb. “There is”—he kissed her index finger—“no pressure”—her middle finger—“no expectation”—her ring finger—“no implied promise,”—her pinkie finger—“only pleasure between us tonight.” He pressed his lips to her wrist and whispered, “I want you tonight,” and kissed the inside of her elbow. “I think you want me too.” His lips skimmed across her shoulder. “That’s enough for tonight.” His hot breath trailed up her neck, and she melted, a throbbing ache growing between her legs.
Was she really going to do this? Yes, she was. “All right,” she whispered.