24. Chapter 24

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," I say, nodding along as the client in my ear explains, in excruciating, unnecessary detail, why the color blue we chose isn't consistent with their brand, even going so far as to say it's an offensive choice. Yikes. When they finally stop talking long enough to breathe, I cut in. "We can go with a different blue. That's not a problem. How about I have my team draft up a few options for you?"

We finish discussing color choices, and, crisis averted, I end the call and relay the information to Jacob, who's the developer for the project. I'm just sitting back in my chair when my personal phone vibrates with a text.

Teddy: Want to grab dinner tonight?

I squint at the text for an inordinately long time. Don't we usually eat dinner together? He said grab. Does that mean he wants to get something from a restaurant? Does he want me to get it?

Me: You want me to pick something up on my way home?

Teddy: No, I mean go out. The two of us.

Oh.

Me: Sure!

Teddy: Cool.

Cool?I'm back to squinting. Since when does Teddy say cool?

Me: Have you been body-snatched? Quick, what did you say to me this morning before I left for work?

It takes half a minute for his response to come through.

Teddy: I told you if you kept trying to lick the sweat off my thigh, I'd give your tongue a reason to stay perfectly still, babydoll.

I cough, looking around my office. The door is open, but obviously, no one can see Teddy's text. Sure could see my blush, though.

Me: I meant your goodbye, but yeah, proof supplied.

Teddy: 7?

Me: …Inches? I think you're more like 8.5, which you should know. It's in your profile for the studio.

There's a longer pause this time.

Teddy: 7 o'clock for dinner?

Ohh.

Me: Ohh. Yeah, that works.

Teddy: See you soon, sweetheart.

Well that was…sweet. And weird. Since when does Teddy text me ahead of time to confirm dinner plans?

Shaking my head, I get back to work and smash some client calls.

The weirdness continues when I get home.

"Hey," Teddy says the moment I'm through the door. He takes my work bag from my hand, setting it aside and then lingering as I shuck off my shoes, staring at me all the while.

"Hello," I say slowly.

"Good day?" he asks, following me into the kitchen while I grab a glass of water.

"Yes, darling."

If Teddy notices my exaggerated honey-sweet tone, he doesn't comment on it. He watches me as I drink the liquid down, his gaze not that hawk-like one but something much gentler.

"You feeling okay?" I ask.

"Of course."

"Mkay."

Teddy follows me as I head down the hall into the bedroom. I glance back at him once, confused, but he's acting as if him trailing after me is perfectly normal. He takes up position near the dresser, arms crossed casually over his chest as I slip out of my work shirt and into something more comfortable.

"Just gonna stare?" I ask, amused more than anything.

"You like it when I watch you," he comments, that gentle look back on his face. It disarms me somewhat, making this feel less like playful flirting and more like… I don't even know.

"I can give you a show if you want," I say, easing my pants down slowly.

He snorts, lips twitching. "We have dinner plans."

"In like…"—I check the clock—"an hour. Plenty of time for you to…watch."

Teddy's arms stay crossed as I kick off my pants, leaving them in a pool on the floor. His gaze lingers on them for a moment, as if he's considering hanging them up, but then I slip my fingers under the waistband of my briefs, and Teddy's gaze snaps back up to me.

"Kipp," he says quietly, almost like an admonishment, except his tone is lacking any sort of sternness to back it up. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"I'm well aware," I tell him, palming my half-hard cock. "So are you going to watch or are you going to participate?"

He groans slightly. "I'm trying to be good."

My brows draw together. "Whatever for?"

He laughs. "Kipp."

"Teddy."

He groans again when I slip my hand down to my balls, the motion causing my briefs to uncover the head of my cock. He eases out a breath before stepping forward.

"You," he says, spinning me around and tugging down my briefs before I've even caught my breath, "are impossible to ignore."

"Doesn't sound like a ba—ah-hah-hah, fuck yes, please."

Teddy chuckles against my skin, his palms on my ass and his tongue attempting to bury itself in my body. Yeah. Yep. This is good. So very good.

Turns out, we have plenty of time for some pre-dinner entertainment.

"So where are you taking me?" I ask, gazing curiously out the window as Teddy drives us toward the swanky part of town.

"Someplace with shrimp," he says.

I turn my head his way slowly. "Teddy. Don't even joke about that. I'm scarred. For life. You should be, too, you know, after having lived through that harrowing experience with me."

I shudder just remembering it. The poor guy saw me at my literal worst. And yet, somehow, he still looks at me like he did earlier tonight, with want in his eyes. The thought is weirdly comforting.

"This place actually has great steak," he says. "Sounded good."

"Oh, damn. Yeah. Sounds great."

He hums, looking pleased. Smug Teddy is one of my favorite Teddys.

The restaurant, as it turns out, is nice as hell. The hostess leads us back to our table, where white linen napkins sit draped over small, porcelain plates. Teddy takes a seat across from me, setting his napkin in his lap.

"Teddy," I whisper.

He looks at me.

"I'm wearing jeans."

His lips pull at the corner. "That's fine."

"You didn't tell me we were going somewhere fancy," I mutter, looking around at all the well-dressed people, Teddy included. He's wearing a button-down shirt and stylish black pants, something I didn't pay attention to after he blew my brains out through my cock. "I look like a ragamuffin compared to everyone here."

"A ragamuffin?" he asks, smiling outright now.

"I didn't want to say a hobo 'cause that's rude. Homeless people shouldn't be mocked for a lack of resources most people take for granted. And what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Teddy reaches across the table, giving my chin a squeeze. "You're lovely, Kipp."

Well, shit. "Um, thanks?"

He nods, pulling his hand back. "And don't worry. No one cares about your pants."

"In that case, you could switch with me?" I semi-joke.

"Sweetheart," he says slowly, the simple word wrapping around me like a caress. "I wouldn't fit in your pants."

"Well, that's rude. Your dick isn't that much bigger than mine."

"I meant my waist size," he says calmly, hitching up a brow.

"Oh."

Teddy snorts.

"For what it's worth, I very much like your waist size," I tell him, squirming in my seat. "I like that you're bigger than me. That you can throw me around or hold me down or—oh, hello."

Our waitress gives us a nervous sort of smile. "Hi! I'm Lola, your server for tonight."

"Great," I say as she fills our water glasses. Teddy laughs under his breath when I shoot a wide-eyed wince his way. Lola goes over a few specials, takes our drink orders, and heads off. I hang my head in my hands. "Can't take me anywhere."

"Kipp," Teddy says lightly. "I enjoy your brand of mayhem."

"Is that so?" I ask, raising my head.

He hums. "It's endearing."

"Well, that's new," I say, flipping my menu open as my pulse skitters. "Most guys don't enjoy the effects of Hurricane Kipp."

"Do you think I'm most guys?" Teddy asks, using that low, even tone.

My gaze snaps to his, breath catching. "No," I answer quietly. Truthfully.

He holds my eye for a long moment. "Good."

The not-at-all-uncomfortable tension is shattered when someone nearby drops a fork against their plate, the loud clattering making me jolt. I huff a laugh and look through my menu, wondering what it means that Teddy doesn't want me to lump him in with all the rest of the guys I've fucked or dated.

I'm scared to hope.

When our waitress comes back around, Teddy and I order dinner. It's been a long time since I've had steak from a restaurant. I can already feel my mouth pooling with saliva.

"This was such a good idea," I tell Teddy.

"Glad you approve," he says, mouth twisting in that way it does.

"Ugh. Stop it."

"What?" he asks, looking mildly alarmed.

"Stop being so damn attractive. I'm only human, Teddy. If you're expecting me to look at your stupidly gorgeous face all dinner and eat my meat like I'm not thinking about your meat, well, I hate to break it to you, but your expectations are set too high."

He huffs a laugh.

"I'm entirely serious. It's a good thing I can't smell you from here."

"Is it?" he asks, tone soft.

"Do you know how hard it is not to bury my face in your neck every time you smell all…" I wave my hand around, looking for the right word. "You?"

"It's just my body wash," he says, eyes crinkled.

"No, it's not," I retort with a shake of my head. "It's you and the body wash. It's, like, sure, that stuff smells good. But when I use it? It's not the same. When it's on you, it's like…" I close my eyes, letting myself sink into the memory. "It's like warmth and sex and comfort all in one. I smell that spicy vanilla you scent, and I'm safe and can relax and just be. It's contentment, you know?"

When I open my eyes, Teddy's gaze has me pulling in a breath.

"Kipp," he says seriously.

"Yeah?"

He licks his lips. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Okay?"

He opens his mouth, but I don't catch a word he says because, at that precise moment, a waitress sets a plate down on the table next to ours. My gaze zeroes in on that plate. On the steak topped with…

"Oh no," I mutter, my stomach rolling. Shrimp. "Oh no, oh no."

Teddy freezes mid-sentence, his words about "wondering if" coming to an abrupt halt.

"Sorry," I say quickly, pushing out of my seat. "Excuse me."

I hurry toward the back of the restaurant, mortified about my hasty escape and praying I'm not about to lose the contents of my stomach. Again. Luckily, the sensation has mostly passed by the time I reach the restrooms. I still lock myself in a stall, breathing deeply for a few minutes to make sure I'm steady. Before I leave, I splash water on my face. It helps cool me down.

When I get back to the table, Teddy is looking down at his folded hands. He eyes me warily as I take a seat.

"I'm so sorry," I tell him, careful to avoid looking at the table next to ours. "I saw a certain horrible crustacean and got a little…"

I wave toward my stomach, and Teddy's eyes widen.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

I wave him off. "Yeah, fine."

"Shit, I thought…" He shakes his head, not finishing his sentence.

"What?"

"Nothing," he says, giving me a smile. I don't have time to pester him further before our meals arrive. Perfectly free of shrimp, thank you.

Two minutes later, with a mouth full of heavenly ribeye, I groan. "My God. This is the shit. Best thing I've ever had in my mouth."

Teddy's lips twitch. "The best?"

"Don't go fishing, Teddy. You know there's no comparison when it comes to your cock."

"I hate to point it out," he says quietly, "but you've never actually had my cock in your mouth."

I still, said mouth popping open. "Holy…" I cycle back through every sexual encounter Teddy and I have had, from early morning handies and frot sessions, to him taking me apart methodically and fucking my fist or, more recently and notably, my ass. Which, Hallelujah and thank you, Jesus.

He's had my cock in his mouth, but is he right? Have I never given him a blowie? I know I offered, but the man has a tendency to take charge, and all cognitive thought goes pft.

"Teddy," I hiss, a mixture of outraged and turned on. "We need to rectify this. Like, now."

"You're not blowing me under the table," he retorts calmy.

"I wasn't suggesting that, but damn, now it's in my head."

He chuckles, and I whimper. I shift in my seat as I chew another bite of steak.

"In the car?" I offer.

"No."

"Bathroom?"

Teddy huffs a laugh. "We're not having sex in the bathroom of a steakhouse."

"But Daddy," I tease.

The look Teddy gives me has me snapping my mouth shut. "There'll be plenty of time, sweetheart. It can wait until we're home."

And fuck. That kind of warms me through.

"So mean," I mutter affectionately.

Teddy's smile feels a little bit like the smell of his body wash on his skin. Warm and full of contentment.

Plenty of time, huh? I like the sound of that.