"Nicky!" I squealed in fake delight. He beamed back at me while wiping off the dark chocolate sauce from his cheek absentmindedly and licking it slowly off his gorgeous finger. He appeared to be staring at me with not a little bemusement. "Nicky?" He said questioningly as he pushed closer to me than I wanted. "I really need to see you in private." He whispered into my ear, the feathery caress of his breath making me tingle all over. "After what you did to me?!" I whispered back, not wanting to make a scene, ok, well, not more of a scene than I had already made with the strawberry fondue fiasco.
People had stared and gasped or snickered, as they saw fit, at the visions that appeared before them when my ill-fated fondue dipped strawberry launched itself into (and off of) Nick's cheek not more than a few seconds ago. It was still laying a few inches away from us, on the tiled floor near the dessert table. In fact, some giggly little blonde slip of a woman in five inch heels and a size zero dress that appeared to have been made from a small black silk scarf, was currently walking towards it, while talking to an older man who looked ridiculous with his not so unnoticeable toupee, ripped jeans, tight blue t-shirt, and tattoo of barbed wire that circled his upper right arm, just noticeable under the t-shirt sleeve. I assumed he had money, the way she was fawning over him and laughing at his not so amusing jokes. I started to say something to her, opting to be the better person and not let my instant dislike of her stop me from doing the right thing, but Nick chose that moment to caress the back of my neck with his thumb. I turned quickly back to gaze into his eyes, my senses overcome by the sight and smell of him and the amazing feel of his touch.
"Nick..." I gasped, feeling a little punch drunk on the hormone rush that was currently overpowering me. He grinned back at me. "That's more like it." He said with, what I swear was, a low growl of manly pleasure at my obvious response to his charms. "Now that I have your attention again, kitten, I need to see you alone. Immediately." He demanded, his voice turning quiet again, so low that I was sure I was the only one who could even hear it.
"Nicky, this is not really the time or place," I began, a little too breathlessly for my own tastes. What den of inequity had I unwittingly entered today? Obviously, my body was not willing to cooperate with me in any way today, lusting after both the fondue and Nick, even when I had mentally told it in no uncertain terms that neither were on the menu. The only way to fend him off, I decided, was to annoy him by continuing to call him Nicky, a nickname I knew he hated.
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