“I’ve tried to be nice to you, but introducing yourself as my boyfriend is going too far.”
He stepped closer. “You are mine.”
“Derek, I haven’t been yours for a while. I thought you understood. Do I need to be a bitch about this? Because you have gone too far!”
“Who is the guy?” he said, pointing behind us.
“None of your business. Please don’t make me go to the police. Leave me alone, and do not come here again.”
I turned to walk away, but he grabbed me by the arm.
“Let go of me!”
“You heard the lady.”
We both looked over as Ben stepped to my side and wrapped his arm around my waist.
“Are you okay?” I nodded. He looked at Derek. “Don’t ever touch her again,” he hissed.
Derek stepped closer, looking him up and down. “This is a personal conversation.”
Ben was three times the size of Derek, yet Derek seemed to be delusional about starting crap.
“Derek, we are done here. Ben, I’m ready to go.”
Ben led me ahead of him as he stared back at Derek. We entered the awaiting sedan after the driver opened the door. As soon as the car pulled off, Ben offered me bottled water before starting in.
“We need to get this out now, I don’t share. I assumed you were available.”
“I’m not seeing anyone. Derek is my ex-boyfriend. He’s been trying to change my mind regarding us, but he won’t. Ben, it’s been over for years.”
“Maybe he needs to be told again.”
“Don’t worry about him. He’s harmless.”
“What about me?” He leaned over and rubbed his nose gently against mine. I breathed him in and held it.
“The verdict is still out.”
“Hmm.”
I looked into his eyes as his tongue moistened his lips.
Ben unbuttoned his suit coat and leaned back into the cream leather seats.
We talked about my music set during the drive. He enjoyed my song choices. Even though I hadn’t thought about the lyrics, the songs spoke to me. My music expressed my feelings, and tonight, I had expressed more than I realized.
Ben opened my door and escorted me into the restaurant. It was small, maybe ten dining tables, and had old pictures on the walls of people and Italy. The server led us to a table upfront by the window. Ben selected the wine, and we both ordered the house special, ravioli with truffle oil.
“This place is quaint.”
It was an older building, the tables typical of the region and this area. There were red and white checked tablecloths and mismatched chairs as if you were dining in someone’s home in Italy.
“The chef is meticulous with his produce and preparations. You’ll enjoy the meal.”
I took a bite of the fresh bread the server placed on the table. “Mmm, this is incredible. It melts in your mouth.”
He smiled and poured the wine.
“I’m serious, this is all a girl needs. Fresh, warm bread and olive oil.”
His brow arched. “I’m hoping she’ll need a little more than that.” He chuckled. “If you keep moaning, we won’t make it to dinner.”
Ben’s lip curled up in that way, and I felt warm below as I squirmed in my chair.
“Is everyone in your family musically inclined?”
“My grandmother played the organ for her church, and my grandfather sang in the choir when I was younger.” I laughed at a memory. “You should hear them during the holidays. They have gumbo parties with a sing along.”
“Are you close to them?”
Taking another bite of bread, I quickly chewed and swallowed, yet savored the taste.
“More so after my mom died. It’s hard to feel lonely around them. My grandparents came from large families. I have a plethora of cousins, some in the States, many more in France.”
“Do you speak French?”
“Don’t laugh. I flunked French. I don’t know, it’s the R’s I couldn’t pronounce right.”
His brow arched with a grin. “Isn’t that Spanish?”
“See, that shows you why I failed.” I laughed.
“Tu es belle,” he said seriously, as he looked into my eyes.
I was going to fly apart at his words. Who cared what he said, his voice… those words...
“You speak French?”
With a sly grin, Ben took a sip of his wine.
“Have you been to France?” he asked.
“No, my family struggled financially, and my mother did the best she could. Like me, she worked gigs to pay the bills.”
“She influenced you to become a musician?”
“She would drag me to these adult-only dive bars and clubs where she played piano and sang. Other kids thought it was cool, being able to be in prohibited places, and they were right. I heard some amazing artists.” It still hurt thinking about my mother, but those times were the best that we had.
Ben reached over and cupped the side of my face. I smiled at him as he sat back.
“My mother loved jazz and would try to get gigs as a keyboardist when famous musicians came into the city.”
The server placed our food down. I stopped talking and said a prayer. When I looked up, Ben was staring at me.
“Yeah, it’s a habit. Even though my mom wasn’t religious, my grandparents always blessed the food, so we did, too.”
The first bite of ravioli was explosive. There were new flavors my taste buds had never experienced. I moaned while Ben continued to watch me.
“What.” I smiled, cheeks full. “This is...”
He stared a bit longer then took a bite.
“I told you this place was good.”
We finished the meal in comfortable silence. I appreciated all types of food and loved trying new things. However, desserts were my downfall. When Ben mentioned their desserts, I squealed with no shame.
“Do you speak fluent French?” I asked as the server collected our plates.
“Yes, and a few others.”
“Wow, overachiever. What other languages do you speak?”
“Italian and German.”
“Okay, I wasn’t expecting those.” I laughed. “Did you have a reason for those?”
He leaned back into his chair, staring at me for a moment too long before he finally answered.
“My mother was Italian, and you can guess my father’s heritage. We spent a lot of time in Italy when I was a child.”
“I always wanted to go there.”
He nodded as the server set the chocolate creation down. Ben took the spoon, scooped out a piece, and lifted it to my mouth. I leaned in to take a bite when he pulled the spoon away.
“It’s not wise to tease me with dessert.”
“That’s too bad. I was thinking of some very enjoyable things we could do with desserts.”
He placed the spoon against my lips, and I slid the cake off into my mouth. It was orgasmic, and apparently, from his stare, I would be, too.
Ben laughed, and I smiled, taking the next bite he fed me.
It was strangely erotic, being fed. He set down the spoon, then used his fingers.
“Wider.” His voice was strained.