“Do you think we should look at the menu sometime this evening?” she says, still with that sassy tone beneath her words.
I stare hard at her. “I’m already looking at what I want to eat, my little dreamer.”
Her cheeks flush a deeper shade of red, the blush spreading tantalizingly down over her chest and to her cleavage.
Fuck, the top of her cleavage is getting red, as though her flesh is needy and wants to be grabbed and bitten and kissed and used in all the steamy ways I can dream up.
“I meant the food,” she says. “There’s so much to choose from. I don’t know what to get.”
“I’m getting a steak, nice and bloody—”
“Like the animal you are,” she finishes for me, giggling.
“Damn, Sophia. You took the words right out of my mouth. I must be getting predictable in my old age.”
“Old age?” she laughs, shaking her head. “In what world are you old, Solomon? You’re stronger, fitter, manlier than any silly immature boy my age. You make them look like toddlers. I’d rather have you over any of them.”
“Good,” I say passionately. “Otherwise, I’d have to kick their ass.”
“And you could, too,” she says. “All those jerks in high school who thought they were tough, they’d get a rude awakening if they ever came face to face with you.”
“What jerks?” I ask, unable to hide the rage bubbling up in my voice.
Her tone wavered when she mentioned jerks, as though she had somebody specific in mind.
My whole body goes tight just thinking about somebody talking down to my woman like that, making her feel small, inferior.
“Just jerks,” she sighs. “Nobody in particular. Honestly, my time in high school wasn’t that bad. I have Caitlin to thank for that. She never let anybody give me too much crap.”
She stops abruptly as if just realizing she’s dropped Caitlin’s name, as though this is going to tear a hole in our dinner and ruin it for the rest of the evening.
“You can talk about how much Caitlin means to you,” I tell her. “She means a lot to me, too. It’s okay.”
“I know,” she sighs. “It’s just … What are we doing, Solomon?”
“What does it look like?” I smirk, turning to my menu. “We’re ordering dinner.”
I can’t let us stray into the tangled mess that is Caitlin and telling her, not tonight, not when everything is going so well.
I just pray that doesn’t make me a bad father.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sophia
I feel a multi-pronged rumbling in my stomach as the waiter carries our plates toward the tables.
No, not our plates.
Our silver platters.
How the heck did I get here again?
I can smell my burger beneath the platter lid as the waiter lowers it onto the table, my mouth watering at the tastiness of it.
Even though Solomon assured me I could order whatever I want, my stomach still twists at the thought of tucking into a burger in front of him.
Won’t he think I’m gross?
The waiter lifts the tray lid to reveal a gourmet burger with some delicious looking fries that get my mouth watering even more. I fight the desire to fall upon the food like some kind of starving beast as the waiter returns to the kitchen.
“Do you want to say grace first?” Solomon smirks, glancing over at me as he tucks a napkin into his shirt collar.
“No, it’s just …”
I trail off, my gaze flitting to the window, the night pitch-dark beyond. It’s easy to forget about the rest of the world when you’re sitting on top of the world, the city clouded in night-darkness, and yet I can’t forget.
I can’t forget about my insecurities.
They’re always there, a never-ending twisting swirling mess inside of me.
“Sophia,” Solomon says. “You know I love your figure, don’t you? You must know that.”
I gasp and return my gaze to him.
His jaw is tight and his eyes flare with something like rage.
“Yes,” I murmur. “I mean, we wouldn’t have done what we did … in the garage … if you didn’t.”
He chuckles darkly. “Such a shy little virgin, aren’t you? You mean I wouldn’t be driving myself fucking feral holding myself back from you if I wasn’t obsessed with that curvy body of yours.”
“Curvy,” I murmur. “That’s such a loaded word.”
“No, it’s not,” Solomon snaps fiercely, sitting up straighter, looking even more massive and fierce.
He’s wearing a darker suit tonight, a Nordic-sea blue, and tension floods into his face as he gazes hard at me.
“It means exactly what I say,” he goes on. “It means your curves, your body, everything about you drives me fucking insane. It means I hate that you think you need to live up to some bullshit ideal of what a woman is meant to look like. Because you’re not just a woman, Sophia. You’re my woman. And I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. So stop self-pitying and eat your damn burger.”
I giggle through a budding sob.
“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or offended,” I laugh. “It started off so well, but you sort of got a little angry at the end.”
He smirks. “What do you expect? I hate to see somebody as beautiful, kind, and talented as you talk about yourself in that way. You’re my woman, Sophia, so you better get some goddamn self-esteem. And soon.”
I grin, biting my lip. And then I realize that I’m biting my lip when his smirk shivers and becomes animalistic.
“Uh oh,” I laugh. “Am I making you all beastly again?”
“You know what you’re doing,” he growls, laughing deeply.
“Do I?” I say, full of faux-innocence.
He shakes his head, but his smirk never leaves his lips.
“I can’t believe nobody has ever swept you off your feet before,” he says. “Everything about you is perfect.”
“Now you’re going to give me a big head,” I laugh. “What if I took a big disgusting bite of this burger, huh? Would that be perfect?”
“I don’t
