Here it is… a little something to tide you (my lovely followers) over while I get the rest of this big ol’ chapter written. 🙂 Charlaine Harris owns almost everything. I own the rest. All mistakes belong to me. Happy Friday!
Eric’s words hung in the air.
“My plans?” Sookie swallowed hard. Her heart was racing.
“Yes. Should I take you home?” He had to make sure she was ready. No more mistakes. He could wait forever, if he had to. “Or…”
“Or maybe, you could take me to your house?” Sookie whispered as she looked into the empty dish in front of her, with only the barest trace of chocolate still remaining.
For a moment, Eric was sure his heart was going to start beating again. “Nothing would please me more.” He pushed away from the table, left a pile of cash, and escorted her outside. She shivered in the cool night air. He wanted nothing more than to warm her up, but that would have to wait.
“Miss Stackhouse,” Eric said as he opened her door and held her hand while she tried to maneuver into the passenger seat of his car. The short hem of her dress slid up, revealing more of her delicious tanned skin.
Sookie mumbled her thanks as he joined her.
His house was a five-minute drive. It was the longest five minutes of his life. Sookie was oddly quiet, which was making him anxious. By the time he pulled into his driveway, he was a bundle of nerves.
“It’s a beautiful house.” Sookie’s arms were locked behind her back as she walked around the living room.
“Thank you.” He suddenly wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, so he stuffed them in his pockets. “Can I offer you some…water?” he finished lamely.
“No, I’m perfect.” She blushed as she turned to face him. “I mean, contentedly full from dinner.”
“I think you’re perfect.”
Sookie laughed. “Hardly. Oh, before I forget, thank you for dinner.”
“And thank you for changing your business. There aren’t many men who would do that for a woman.”
“For the right woman.” He brushed a strand of her hair out of her face.
“How do you always know what to say?” She frowned. “You make me feel so…special. And not in the you’re-a-freak kind of special, which is what I’m used to.”
“You are special. There’s nothing ordinary about you.” He caressed her cheek.
She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes. “I’m nervous.”
“Me too,” he admitted.
“I make you nervous?” Her eyes danced.