He was hungry, all right but food was the last thing on his mind. Well, maybe not the complete last thing. He could picture up some very worthwhile fantasies involving the crème brulee and Bo’s mouth.
Watching her eat the rich dessert had him as hard as if she had reached over and wrapped her hand around his cock. Of course, just watching Bo do anything did that. She could be sitting at a table doing yearly taxes and he’d be hard. But the look in her eyes when she had taken that first bite…her lashes had fluttered closed and she had moaned like a woman on the brink of climax.
That thought only made his problem worse. He was dying to get her out of here, get her someplace where he could see how she really sounded when she came. Get her someplace quiet so he could strip that red silk away and touch her… And if he kept thinking like that, he was going to be stuck in this chair for a while.
He had plans for the rest of the night and they didn’t include sitting here waiting for a hard-on to subside.
Another soft hmmmmm of pleasure escaped Bo’s lips and Logan’s control snapped. He reached for his wallet and dug out a couple of bills. The waiter saw him and started in his direction but Logan had no desire to wait for him. Bo looked up at him as he stood over her chair. The fork was still between her lips. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was doing it on purpose when she slowly slid it out, taking time to lick it clean. She glanced down at the dessert in front of her and said, “I’m not done.”
“Too bad. The way you are with sweets, you’d lick the bowl clean if I let you,” Logan growled. He pulled the chair back and held out a hand. When she stood, he pulled her up against him and slid an arm around her waist. Their gazes met and held as he lowered his mouth.
She tasted of the rich, decadent dessert, wine and heat. Sheer, unadulterated heat. Desire and hesitation, curiosity and want—there were a million contradictions in her kiss and it was enough to drive him mad. Control snapped. He could feel it, all but hear it in the little cracking noises as she leaned into him. One fisted hand lay against his chest, clutching the lapel of his suit. Through the layers of clothing, he felt the warm weight of her breasts, the soft little curve of her belly—
Logan tore his mouth away from hers and looked at the waiter. “Shit,” he muttered.
Bo’s spiky black lashes lifted, revealing smoky gray eyes fogged with desire. She moaned a little and leaned toward him again for just a second. Then it was like she realized where they were. She blushed, the soft pink flush starting at the low neckline of her dress and spreading upward to her face.
Without saying a word, Logan took her hand and led her out of the restaurant. Home hadn’t ever seemed so far away.