He laughs, big, loud and unrestrained, gaining not only the newcomer’s attention, but also Eleri’s who is leading them to a table enough distance away to still give us plenty of privacy.
I love that I can make him do that—that I can make him laugh with abandon uncaring of who hears. It’s as big a turn-on as if he’d snuck his hand under the table and grabbed my cock.
“Well,” he says after a moment and a sip of his water. “I think I’d very much like to see that telescope, and… help you with that task.”
And just like that, all the anxiety I felt during our walk here, all the frustration and confusion, vanish.
Tonight, I’m going to enjoy being on a date with the man before me.
I’m going to feast on his company and then take him to my bed and devour his body.
And suddenly the answers to all those questions that tumbled around in my mind feel insignificant.
Here, now, Macs and me. That’s all that matters.
Chapter 13
Macsen
I was curious to see where Ellis would take me. After a tense walk and a conversation that looked set to end our impromptu evening together before it had begun, I was pleasantly surprised but not shocked to see the type of place he’d picked.
The more I learn of Ellis’s life here, and the man he is within this life, the more his quiet support of a less popular local business makes sense.
Ellis’s appearance each time we’re together will change, but the fabric of his soul does not, even if—in this lifetime at least—he’s put up more barriers than I ever recall him doing before.
“Halušky with sauerkraut,” Eleri announces placing our starters before us. “And I’ll be back with your Tatra tea tasting board in just a moment.”
I look down at the beautifully presented food before me, the aromas drifting to my nose and calling my stomach to attention.
“It’s a Slovak national dish; baby dumplings sautéed with onions and sauerkraut.” Ellis clarifies, grabbing his fork and tucking in. “And It’s bloody delicious.”
Flavours explode over my tongue with the first mouthful.
“I can taste paprika and maybe a little something lemony or peppery?”
“That’s the caraway seeds, an underused spice that many turn their noses up at,” Ellis confirms, popping another dumpling into his mouth and chewing. He finishes his mouthful and with blue eyes on mine, he asks, “It’s good, though, isn’t it?”
And right here in this tiny, quiet restaurant, with a dumpling falling off the end of my fork back onto my plate, I wish I could lean across the table and kiss him. It’s the endearing way he seeks my approval for his choice. Add to that the way he licks the flavour from his lips—using his thumb to catch some sauce at the corner of his mouth and pushing it between the plump flesh—drawing my attention there even more. How his eyes never stray from mine as he does so, looking deeper inside me than any other person ever could, and I immediately wish we were alone.
Eating with Ellis is above and beyond sensual—it’s mind-blowingly and inappropriately erotic.
“Yes.” The gravel in my voice is evident, despite me awkwardly attempting to clear my throat. “It’s delicious.”
He smiles, and my breath catches. It’s a knowing smile, a decadent smile, one that tells of the untold pleasure to be had with the curve of his mouth and the sensuous lick of his tongue.
“Wait until we get to dessert.”
His words are a promise, and not for something sweet.
“You mean like the ice cream we had the other night?” I raise a brow, encouraged by the devious glint in his eyes. “I’ll make sure to leave room.”
That damn smile again.
And it only gets broader and more salacious when I shift on my seat, the crotch of my trousers becoming uncomfortably tight.
“Your tea tasting board.”
Eleri interrupts our sexual stare-off by placing a narrow wooden tray filled with an array of glasses on the table before us. Each glass containing a different coloured liquid. Next, she places a small glass bowl filled with ice, and three mini bottles of non-alcoholic mixers.
“From left to right you have, Coconut, Citrus, Peach, Original, Forest Fruits, and the new arrival, Outlaw.” She points to each glass in turn as she lists their flavours. “Enjoy, and I’ll bring your mains out when you’re ready.”
Eleri steps away to tend to her other customers, while I look at the drinks in front of me, which they’ve described as tea, with some confusion.
“I was expecting something hot, maybe with some honey, or milk and sugar. This doesn’t look like any tea I’ve ever had before.”
I reach out and grab a glass—Forest Fruit, Eleri called it—bringing it under my nose and breathing in deeply.
“Tatra tea originated in the mountains of Slovakia. Jozef told me it began as a homemade medicine.” Ellis takes the next glass in line and drops in a chunk of ice, swirling the liquid around before taking a sip. “They poured boiled water over various herbs, added moonshine, honey, garlic, spirit and tallow, and allowed it to brew.” Another sip, and he raises his glass in my direction, encouraging me to follow suit. “Jozef said each family and village would have their own special recipe, but they all called it the same thing. Tea.”
My first sip is warming with hints of blueberry over the earthier taste of freshly brewed tea. The fruity flavour is distinct and long lasting but not sweet or cloying, and it’s unlike any other liqueur I’ve ever tried.
“Apparently, it wasn’t merely regarded as a medicine to cure ills; it became something good and strong to share with friends.”
“If only all medicines tasted this good.” I lift my glass for another sip, letting my gaze drink in Ellis, the heat from the alcohol combining with the simmering warmth in my veins for the man before me.
“It works well hot, too, like a toddy. And makes a great base for cocktails.” He continues to tell me about the tea, all the while pretending like he doesn’t know he’s eye-fucking me. “The Outlaw is the only one I’ve yet to try and the most potent.”
I raise my glass, the heat from the spirit already seeping into my blood.
“I guess, as a tea lightweight, I’ll stick to the fruity flavours and leave you to enjoy the one that sounds like it’s about to rob you.”
Ellis picks up the aforementioned drink and takes a sip. He hisses through his teeth, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Yep, the Outlaw will put hairs on your chest that’s for sure.” He holds the glass out to me across the table. “Want to try some?”
There’s a challenge in his gaze.
“If I said no, would you judge me?”
“Definitely.”
The twinkle in his eyes is enough to have me reaching out and taking the drink from his hand. Bringing it to my lips, I try not to think about how my mouth is where his was a few seconds ago. I try not to think about it because it would make the ache between my legs even more uncomfortable.
“Jesus, that’s strong,” I splutter, the burning heat from the drink sliding down my throat and restricting my airways. “I don’t know about hairs on my chest, but I think it’s taken a layer of skin off my oesophagus.”