First meal with King.

I’ve covered a lot of things in my life, I’ve hoped for a living mother, and a healthy father, and I’ve wished for a bulkier bank account but never had I dared to hope for a man. I never hoped for a touch of comfort, I never dared to hope for someone to look at me with such eyes as Alexandro King was looking at me now.

How could I hide these feelings his lips were doing to me with my finger in his mouth when I had never analyzed the feelings in my mind?

I took a deep breath of relief when he finally let go of my bleeding finger. His mouth must have worked some magic on it because it had stopped bleeding, he held my four fingers and placed a kiss on them before finally letting them go.

“I’m hungry,” I whispered, I just hoped we would eat and I could go back to the hotel room. I hoped to leave the hotel soon too, I didn’t like how I was always watched here, and Alexandro King wouldn’t always have to be like this if we were back home.

“I’ve already ordered something. It’ll be here in a few minutes.” He replied. Someone else might have thought he was trying to impress me, but I knew that was not it, he was trying to do something, but I couldn’t lay a finger on what it was.

“Anything is fine, you didn’t have to make them cook what wasn’t on the menu,” I replied humbly, in the unfamiliar floors, I had to be as careful as possible. I must not make mistakes too.

“You seem to be forgetting I owned this hotel, Emily. My staff does anything I want. They never say no.” He replied something was twinkling in his eyes, he was thinking about last night. He was bringing it up and he wanted me to know what he was doing.

Instead of taking his bait, I cleared my throat and replied, “How much longer would they take?”

He acknowledged my attempt to change the topic and atmosphere, but he seemed to pick that same moment to intensify it.

His hands snaked over mine which was lying restlessly on the table. At first, he made it seem casual like he only wanted to check something that had been on my palm but after the fake attempt, he didn’t let go. Instead, he continued to touch it more boldly.

He didn’t go lower than my wrists, just gently caressing my fingers, rubbing on my skin lightly, and skimming his perfectly manicured finger over my palm.

People would think, ‘Oh! He can’t keep his hands off her.’

He knew his game and was good at it. But I had no plan like he had. I was just at the receiving end of his touch. And my body seemed to like it too much.

At first, I told myself, I loved the feeling of his skin, my temperature was always cold, so it was amazing the amount of heat he emitted. He was so warm I wondered how it would feel to curl up against him. His fingers strong and firm had me wondering how hard his abs would be.

The food came just in time to restrain my thoughts from drifting too far. I gave another breath of relief.

I was glad when Alexandro King finally let go of my hand, I slipped both fingers to my hip under the table to calm myself. Even when his hand was no longer touching mine, the tingles his touch gave me didn’t leave me immediately his touch did. It only made me miss his touch. My finger suddenly felt cold again, the warmth had spread to other places, releasing butterflies in my stomach.

The wonderful smell of the food that had been brought was a good distraction. It was easy to let Alexandro King consume my thoughts. All I used to think about was my dad and how to survive. Now he took all my worries and also took their place in my mind. A lot of space.

However, something I didn’t expect happened, The person who had brought our food wasn’t a mere server or waiter but the chef himself, and he bowed to me.

“Good morning Mrs. King. It is an honor to serve you.” He said a small smile on his face.

“Good morning…..” I trailed off because I didn’t know his name, I had expected my husband to fill in for me but he only watched with an amused look on his face.

“Chef Martins.” The chef helped me out.

I smiled and nodded at him. “Chef Martins. It is a pleasure to meet you. What are we having today?” I asked.

Most times, from the knowledge I had from reading, when a chef came to serve food himself, he had only one purpose which was to talk about the food and tell how special and important the meal is.

Chef Martins turned to my husband for permission, and when Alexandro King nodded his approval, the chef began.

“First, you’ll be having a starter called Amuse-bouche and aperitif,” He began proudly. It was obvious he loved his work and was infatuated with his creation. “It was made with the combination of mango, muskmelon and Jamon.”

That seemed a lot for a mere starter, but I patiently let him continue.

“Your appetizer is rough shrimp and scallops. I assure you it is of the best quality than anything else you would taste elsewhere.” He informed me. I didn’t doubt it.

He must have noticed my impatience or Alexandro king might have signaled him to hurry up. “Your main course is a lot. There’s the salmon soup, Mexican rice, the meat, and some very fine lettuce. I must say you eat very healthy Mrs. King. I love your choice of vegetables and protein. Please, do have a wonderful meal.” He finished.

He bowed again and left.

I was surprised because all through his speech, he served nothing and now he was gone but my table was still empty.

Alexandro King stood to his feet. “I would serve you.”

I couldn’t keep in my gasp. I was about to pull up on my feet when his warning came in curt and cold. “Don’t move an inch.”

It was a command. His words held ice that froze me in my seat.

First, he served the starter, and I couldn’t even remember what it was called but it looked as beautiful as its name.

He sat back but didn’t give me a fork. Instead, he lifted the beautiful design started and lifted it to his lips.

“Open Emily, Open for me.”

How does he manage to make everything sexy?