Breeding Clinic (Heatverse)

Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

KAT

Walking up to my parents’ door and knocking is the hardest thing I’ve done in a long time. Since I first came home, packless and depressed, three years ago. I told my mom to be prepared for a big surprise, but I didn’t tell her what it was. It didn’t seem right to tell them over the phone.

I hesitate, then take a deep breath and knock. It doesn’t take her long to answer the door. “Good timing, Kathleen, I was just… Oh.” Her gaze shoots down to my belly, then up to my neck, her expression closing off into something unreadable.

I put a hand on my bump. “Hey, Mom.”

She recovers quickly and ushers me inside. “Come in and sit so we can talk. I just took the coffee cake out of the oven, but I suppose you won’t want the coffee to go with it now, huh?”

My mom makes the best coffee. There’s no way I’m missing out. “A small cup is fine.”

She busies herself cutting into the coffee cake, plating two slices for us and moving them to the kitchen table, then going to the coffee maker. My childhood home smells exactly like I remember. Like sweet treats and the coffee she brews nearly all day long. She pours us both cups then sets down the small carton of creamer on the table.

“So…” my mother says, sitting down. “Do you know who the father is?”

I mix sugar and creamer into my coffee and palm the cup, soaking up its warmth. The familiar smell is comforting. “Of course I do. His name is Liam.”

“Do we get to meet him?”

“Yes. And the rest of his pack. Matthew and Gabriel. I didn’t want to tell anyone and get their hopes up before I knew it would stick this time.”

Her expression turns pained. “So you’ve been going through this alone? Baby, you could have told me. There’s nothing you can’t tell me or your fathers, you know.”

A lump forms in my throat. “Jen knows. And my pack. We haven’t made things official yet, but we will. So I haven’t been alone. But I didn’t want to say anything until things looked good.”

“And they do?” she asks, leaning forward in her seat. “When are you due?”

I rub my belly idly. “January. Everything looks great. We’re having a girl. What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Christmas?” Her eyebrows raise toward her hairline. “I haven’t thought that far ahead, but I suppose the usual. Why?”

I stuff myself with her coffee cake, still warm from the oven, while I tell her about my new pack. Their family tradition of getting together at a ski chalet. I leave out the details she doesn’t need to know, like how Liam and I met. She doesn’t pry.

“We’ll need to plan your baby shower,” she says, turning serious. “And soon. Have you decided where you want to have it yet? And I’ll need a guest list and head count for the catering. ”

“I’d like to have it in our new house,” I tell her, dropping another bombshell on her lap. “We sign the paperwork and get the keys next week.”

My mother takes it all in stride. I suppose finding out I’m buying a house is nothing compared to learning she has a granddaughter on the way. “I’m excited to see it. Does it have enough room?”

I think of our house and it’s three thousand square feet. “Plenty. I’ll send you the address once we have it painted and we’re settled in. We can do housewarming and a baby shower all in one. Where are Dad and Papa?”

She pours herself another cup of coffee and wraps up the rest of the coffee cake to save it for later. “They’re looking at fishing boats. I tried to talk them out of it, but they’re taking retirement hard. They don’t know how to not be busy all day.”

I smile wistfully at the family photos hung up on the wall. My parents’ mating ceremony photo is next to my high school graduation portrait. Family vacation photos fill the gaps. There’s a new one I haven’t seen before. My two fathers are standing on a shore, holding up a massive fish with grins on their faces.

“I have to go,” I say. “There’s a lot to do right now. You’ll tell them I stopped by? Give them my love?” And tell them that I’m pregnant and getting mated. I don’t need to ask her the last part. There aren’t any secrets within a pack.

“I will.” She shows me to the door and gives me a big hug on the porch. “I love you, baby. And send me a sonogram photo so I can put it on my fridge. I can’t wait to tell my scrapbooking ladies about my first grandbaby on the way. Sharon won’t shut up about her son’s big Wall Street job. Maybe this’ll give the group something new to talk about.”

She hugs me tighter, and I squeeze her harder in return. Then we pull apart. “I will. ”

Once I’m back in my car and driving home, I can finally relax. Ripping that bandage off was hard, but I’m glad it’s over. I didn’t like keeping this a secret from them, but I couldn’t handle the pity from another lost pregnancy.

Our baby girl kicks my bladder, as if she’s proving she’s in there. When I get home, there’s a package on my porch. Not the brown-boxed shipping kind. The hand-delivered white box tied with a big red velvet ribbon sort.

Despite its size, it’s not heavy when I pick it up. I tuck it under one arm and get my key in the lock with the other. The minute I’m inside, Waffles races to the door, his tail quivering and his mouth open in a hungry, cackling meow.

“I’ll feed you in a second, but I really have to pee,” I tell him. I set the box down and run to the bathroom. I can’t go an hour without peeing now. Coffee was probably a mistake, but it was so good. It was worth it.

After, I put food in Waffles’ bowl, an early dinner since I probably won’t be coming back tonight. I give him fresh water, and check that his robot litter box is fine. It was ridiculously expensive, but worth every penny. Especially while I’m pregnant and can’t scoop it.

I forget about the box until it catches my eye. There’s no note. “What are you?” I ask it while I cut the red ribbon off and rub my thumb along its nap. It’s real velvet. Its contents are wrapped in crisp, scented tissue paper. There’s an embossed sticker with the name of a clothing boutique holding the two edges together. I break the seal and start pulling garments out.

There’s a white dress inside. It’s formal and made of thick white satin. Long sleeves flare out like a bell before they gather at the wrist again. The neckline is an off-the-shoulder sweetheart cut with pleated fabric that cups over the breasts. The dress is fitted to stretch over my baby bump, then flare out at the hips in a wide circle of skirt. The wide neckline is sexy for an omega. It’ll show off my neck and nape.

Underneath the dress, there’s lingerie. A strapless bra and matching panties in the softest shade of pink. The panties are smooth in the front, but an open cage of straps in the back. Inside the big box are three smaller ones. Nude pumps with a modest heel take up the larger box. In the smaller one is a sex toy. A black silicone wearable that’s shaped like a butterfly with a rounded protrusion that curls inside. In the tiniest box is jewelry. Silver drop earrings with starbursts at the ends and a matching bracelet.

Only Liam would think to give me a gorgeous, sexy dress and jewelry and then send it along with a sex toy. I pull out my phone and load our group chat.

Kat

What’s all this stuff for?

Liam

7 pm

Gabriel

We’ll pick you up

Matthew

Stay home, there’s another surprise coming

???

A knock on my door pulls me away from my phone. On my porch there’s a young black man with a buzzed head and gold eyeshadow. He’s holding a big rolling silver suitcase. “Are you my lucky lady?” he asks with a grin.

“I guess so.”

He looks over my shoulder into my house. “Where can I set up? I need an outlet. ”

“What are you here for?” I ask, pulling the door open for him.

“Your hair and makeup, honey. Your beaus ordered you the deluxe glam package. Cute cat.” He stoops to pet Waffles.

“Is the kitchen okay?” I ask him, showing him where it is.

“It’s perfect.” He puts his suitcase on my table and unfolds it like an accordion. The top comes up and the sides butterfly open. Drawers swivel out revealing rows upon rows of cosmetics. He pulls curling irons of various sizes out of the big bottom section and plugs them in.

“Can I see your dress?” he asks. “So I know how to do your hair.”

I pull the dress from the box and hide the other stuff in the tissue paper.

He whistles. “Oh, honey, that’s nice. Is that your wedding dress?”

My heart trips in my chest. Because what else can it be? I stroke the gown’s fabric and lay it out on a chair so it doesn’t get wrinkled. “I think so.” What are they planning? And how did they manage to keep it a secret?

He pulls various things from his drawers, comparing colors until he decides what he wants. “Let’s do a side-swept look. Show off those collarbones and that neck. Now go wash your face and do your skincare, then change into something easy to slip out of so your shirt doesn’t mess up your hair.”

Following his instructions, I wash my face and run a brush through my hair, then change into a robe. He chats with me the entire time he’s working. He starts with my hair, curling and spraying it and pinning it up to cool. Once it’s all curled, he moves onto makeup while my hair sets.

“I’m thinking soft glam,” he says. “Pinks and champagne. Unless you want something more dramatic?”

“That sounds good.” I watch him study five different shades of nude pink lipsticks before settling on a color. He pokes and prods me, turning my face this way and that as he applies foundation and concealer. Then he sets it all with a shit ton of powder, and lets it do something called baking. He moves onto my eyes while my face sets.

Holding still when he does my mascara and eyeliner is difficult. He pulls out a package of new false eyelashes and trims them to size, then applies a coat of glue and waits for it to get tacky.

“Pout for me, pretty,” he says when he gets to my lips. He even does my nails. Shaping them and painting them a pretty ballet slipper pink until they’re glossy. I play the role of his doll until he’s done. He uses a fan-like brush to wipe the extra powder off my face, then sprays me down with a setting spray. “Now your hair.”

I lay a hand over my old mating bite. “Cover this side, please.”

He does it without asking any questions.

I tell him about my pack while he works. He pins my hair up, the pins digging into my scalp before slotting into place. He weaves the curls he made and braids it all to the side in a complicated half-up, half-down style that pulls to the side. He gently pulls the dangling curls apart to add volume, then sprays it all down with hair spray until it barely moves.

“There. Gorgeous.” He holds a mirror up so I can see.

He’s done an amazing job. I look like my old self. Like the hopeful, happy girl I was when Josh took me to his first awards banquet. When I dressed up in a designer dress they loaned me to match his gifted suit and dozens of photographers wanted photos of us on the event’s red carpet. I don’t miss those days. The shine wore off that penny a long time ago when event appearance became compulsory no matter how I felt about attending. But I still like feeling beautiful .

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” I tell him.

He packs up his stuff and gives Waffles one more scritch on his chin, then goes. I glance at the clock and see that it’s six. Plenty of time to finish getting ready. I put music on while I shave my legs and put lotion on. I skip the scent nullifying stuff and go for the one with the faint vanilla scent that blends in perfectly with my own pheromones.

The lingerie is silky smooth, and I recognize the brand. It’s from a specialty shop in London. I have to wonder how long they’ve been planning this without me knowing or getting suspicious. The underwear covers almost nothing of my ass. The back is all crisscrossing straps with a wisp of fabric that turns into the wide gusset.

The strapless bra fits me perfectly, and the silicone grips—and my belly—keep it from sliding down due to my pregnancy heavy breasts. I put my jewelry on and study my reflection. I’m sexy as hell. They’re going to lose their minds when they see me like this.

I smile, thinking of ways to make Liam feral. I want him to growl for me again.

At six-forty, I wiggle into my dress and figure out how to get the zipper up without help. The dress skims my curves, enhancing what pregnancy’s already accentuated. My ass and thighs are fuller than they used to be. My belly thick and rounded. My breasts heavy and, thanks to the expensive bra, pressed together deliciously. The off-the-shoulder neckline and side-swept hair means my entire, unblemished neck and scent gland are on display. My long earring tickles against my shoulder when I turn my head.

I don’t need lube to insert the toy they bought me. I hike the hem of my dress up, pull my panties aside, and push it in. It nestles into place inside my already slick pussy. The butterfly’s curved wings and the tight panties hold it in place. I practice sitting and walking with it in. It’s strange, but not painful. A knock at my door interrupts me.

Waffles runs to it, meowing, and stretches his body up to paw at the door. I shoo him aside by scattering treats on the ground and open it. The sight of all three of them standing there on my porch in tailored suits takes my breath away.

They’re equally speechless. Their eyes roam over me, lingering on my breasts and my baby bump. Liam holds out a hand and turns to the side. Behind him, I see a short limo instead of his truck.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

He’s not asking about dinner. But for what comes after. When he bites his claim into my neck and brands me as his. Their omega.

I pull the door shut and lock it and put my hand in his. “I am.” I’ve never wanted anything more than this moment. A pack that loves me. A family on the way. My girlhood dreams come true. In his black tux and pinned corsage, he looks every inch the groom. They all do.

They lead me to the limo, and a driver gets out and comes around to open the doors. Liam hands me inside and lets me get settled on the seat, and then they follow me in. The driver slides into the front seat and pulls away from the curb.

“Where are we going?” I ask them.

“First things first.” Liam reaches into his jacket pocket.

The sex toy buzzes to life and I jolt in surprise.

Liam’s smile is slow and full of sinful promises. “Good girl.”

He doesn’t stop the buzzing after his test to see if I’m wearing it. It stays at a dull, low buzz. Once I get used to it, it’s easier to ignore. Sort of.

I fidget in my seat and bite my lower lip. “In a white dress, everyone’s gonna see a damp spot,” I warn him .

“You’re wearing slick panties. You’ll be okay, kitten.”

“Really?” There was hardly any fabric to them.

“Trust me.”

I do. I trust him. But that doesn’t mean turnabout isn’t fair play. I put my hand on his thigh and stroke him, drawing circles on his leg. “Thank you for my presents, Daddy,” I say in a husky voice.

Matthew lets out a laugh and reaches for the buttons that control the limo. A privacy screen rolls up, separating us from the driver. Gabriel lounges, undoing the button of his coat and letting it splay open. He grabs the bottle of amber liquor from the bar rack and pours himself a glass.

“This is going to be fun,” Gabriel says with a smile, taking a sip.

I drag my hand higher up Liam’s inner thigh until my pinky grazes his clothed cock. His dick twitches. “You look really good in a suit. You all do.”

They’ve put effort into getting ready. Shaving, slicking their hair back with pomade, and putting on silver cufflinks and tie pins. Did they buy the suits or rent them? I hope they bought them. Otherwise the shop’s gonna be pissed when they get the shirts back with no buttons. I want to rip their clothes off them while I ride them. The pregnancy hormones have been driving me nuts ever since I opened the box. And the toy nestled against my pussy isn’t helping. It’s only stoking that fire into an inferno.

Liam grabs my hand and lifts it to his mouth, kissing my knuckles. He uses the movement to hide his reach for the toy’s remote. The toy hums faster. The butterfly’s wings make my entire pussy vibrate. I forget that I’m teasing him as he teases me back mercilessly.

He turns my wrist over and kisses the inside where the skin’s thinner and more delicate. “Be good, kitten. Or we’ll never make it to the restaurant.”

That doesn’t sound like a bad idea. “I’m not that hungry.” I squirm, grinding on the toy. Trying to drive those buzzing sensations deeper. Fuck, I want to come. And he hasn’t even touched me yet.

Liam taps the remote again. The vibrations switch from a constant buzz to a stuttered pulsing. It’s impossible to use it to come. The vibrations are too irregular. I let out an annoyed whine, but all my alpha does is grin.

“You’re beautiful, kitten,” he says.

“I want to ride your cock.”

He nips the palm of my hand and settles it back on my lap. “No.”

It’s payback for teasing and edging him the other day in the pub. It’s got to be. I groan and settle in my seat while the driver takes us across town. We pull up to the nicest restaurant in town. The one you need to make reservations for several months in advance to get a table unless you want to go on a weekday.

“How’d you get us a reservation here?” I ask, frowning.

“Made it a while ago,” Liam answers.

“You’ve been planning this all this time?”

“Of course,” he says. “I knew you were ours from the minute you walked into my pub.”

My heart seems three sizes too big for my chest as the driver pulls up to their valet parking and gets out to open our doors. Matthew and Gabriel get out first and extend a hand to help me. I hold the fabric of my dress out of the way and let them help me out. Liam is at my back a moment later, urging me forward with a hand resting on the small of my back.

I’m finally ready to be theirs. Forever .

The restaurant is gorgeous. It’s tiny, hence the long reservation list. The lighting is low and ambient. Low music plays over hidden speakers, and large well-tended plants decorate the gleaming, luxurious space. It’s all leather and marble, dark stained wood and polished brass. A well-stocked bar makes up one wall and booths line the other with tables scattered in the middle. People eat, the clink of their cutlery mixing with their conversations. The food smells amazing and my stomach grumbles in eager anticipation.

“O’Donnell pack,” Liam tells the ma?tre d’. “We have a reservation for four at seven-thirty.”

“Your table is ready. Follow me.” The ma?tre d’ takes four leather bound menus and shows us to our table. Leather and wood chairs ring the tablecloth covered table. There’s a small vase with a red rose in the center. She lights the tea light candles, then leaves.

The minute we’re seated and settled, Liam changes the setting on the toy. It’s a different pattern of interrupted buzzing. I bite my lip and fidget in my seat. Attempting to read the menu. My eyes won’t focus. My mind won’t pay attention. I read the same few lines over and over again.

“Welcome to Le Chat Noir,” a server says, greeting us. He’s a beta. “Here’s our wine menu. What can I get you to drink?”

Liam orders for us. “Three glasses of your McCallan twenty-five on the rocks and a raspberry mojito mocktail for the lady.”

A food runner brings us a basket of thin, crispy breadsticks and the server leaves to put our drink order in while we study the menu. Gabriel and Matthew debate the steak versus the lamb. I’m too wound up to decide what I want. All I can think about is dick.

“Liam,” I whine, trying hard not to fidget too much in my seat. “Please.” I don’t know what I’m asking for. For him to stop. To let me come. Or to fuck me and put me out of this misery. He can take his pick. I’m up for any of them.

The buzzing changes back to the low, steady thrum and I sigh in relief.

The waiter comes back with our drinks balanced on a small bartender’s tray. He sets them all down in front of us and sticks the tray under his arm. “Are we ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes to decide?”

Liam and Gabriel both get the steak while Matthew orders the lamb. The waiter looks at me expectantly. I frown and glance at the menu again. Shit. I never figured out what I wanted.

“She’ll have the coq au vin,” Liam tells him, taking my menu from me.

The waiter leaves with our menus to put our order in. I take a sip of my drink and have to stop myself from guzzling it down. It’s so fucking yummy. Gabriel digs into the bread and offers me half his breadstick. They’re long and thin. Handmade and crispy like a pretzel.

“Are we doing anything after dinner?” I ask them.

Liam sips his scotch, the large spherical ice clinking against the glass. “What do you think we’re doing after?”

Dicking me down into the mattress, I hope. But there’s more than that. We all know it. “You’re claiming me.”

His eyes drift down from my face to the exposed skin between my shoulder and neck. My scent gland. He reaches over and cups his hand around the nape of my neck, his thumb stroking over it. “I am.”

He looks at me for confirmation. I nod.

The toy buzzes rapidly, making me jump in my seat. “Good girl.”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. His thumb presses into my scent gland, my perfume scenting the air as he rubs my pheromones into his skin. Scent marking himself. Claiming himself as mine. My hips rock before I can stop them, the chair creaking.

His other hand is under the table. Hiding the remote that controls my toy. He hits its button again, making it faster. Staring at me and rubbing my scent gland as he torments me in public in this lovely restaurant I’ll never be able to eat in again without blushing. My breathing gets faster as I fight the urge to moan. To give up all pretense of decorum and rock my way to an orgasm. The vibrator teases my clit, and stimulates me inside. Leaves my pussy dripping. I hope he’s right about the panties. Otherwise, when I stand, the entire restaurant is getting a show of exactly how wet I am.

His eyes darken in the already dim light. His pupils expand to swallow up the sight of me as I quietly fall apart beside him.

Before I can get too close to coming, he hits the button again and the vibrations go back to pulsing. My orgasm stalls out. I groan, the forgotten breadstick snapping in my hand as my fist tightens.

“Rude,” I tell him, annoyed. He either needs to stop teasing me all together or let me come. Why did I agree to play this horrible game?

The vibrations change their pattern. A long, swelling buzz followed by short, rapid bursts of pulses. “What’s rude, kitten?”

I drop my breadstick on the table and make a fist, bunching up the tablecloth. “You are.”

“Let our poor omega eat,” Matthew chides him.

Liam leans back in his seat, and the buzzing slows to the low thrum that makes my pussy drip but doesn’t drive me delirious. “I suppose I can be generous and let you enjoy our dinner. If you say please.”

I’m beyond shame at this point. If he demanded that I get under the table, pull his cock out, and blow him as the price of coming, I would. “Please. ”

Liam hides his smile with his drink.

“Here,” Gabriel says, handing me another breadstick.

I bite and chew, eating it quickly in case Liam decides to toy with me some more. The waiter brings our food out, and my attention is quickly diverted. My stew is a fragrant shallow bowl of spiced chicken, mushrooms, and other vegetables in a red wine reduction. We eat, talking about nothing important. My conversation with my mother. The pub’s next order of seasonal beer. Matthew’s day at work. The pickle ball class that Gabriel wants to take.

The waiter clears our plates and brings us dessert menus. “I don’t know if I can eat anymore,” I tell them, full even though I only ate half my dinner.

“We’ll split a piece of the strawberries and mascarpone mille-feuille,” Liam says to the waiter. “I heard it’s the best thing on their menu,” he tells me.

I suppose there’s always some room for dessert.

Liam clicks the remote controlling my toy up. It buzzes to life with a vengeance. I squirm in my seat, attempting to stay quiet as they talk quietly without me. It cycles through functions and speeds, never settling for long. Keeping me guessing as I subtly rock, maneuvering the silicone butterfly’s wings into the perfect spot.

My breath hitches and I rock, no longer caring if anyone is watching. If I don’t come right now, I’ll never forgive them. I’ll never play their sex games again. The waiter brings out our plate of dessert and new forks.

I worry that Liam’s going to shut the toy off again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he racks it up. Dials up the intensity and makes it faster. My walls clench down on the toy, and I let out a low moan I can’t stifle.

Liam stabs a fork into the dessert and holds it up to me. “Open. ”

My lips part, and he sticks the forkful inside. I close my lips around the fork and taste the first decadent bite. The buttered puff pastry is flaky, the mascarpone cheese is salty and tastes of vanilla, and the strawberries have been lightly roasted to make them sweeter, then covered in strawberry syrup. I chew and swallow, using the dessert as an excuse to moan as he plays with the remote.

They all take turns eating forkfuls of our dessert while Liam drives me to the brink of orgasm inside this fancy restaurant. They save the last few bites for me. Feeding me small forkfuls and letting me lick their utensils clean, all while Liam sets the toy nestled in my pussy to a merciless rhythm.

I’m going to come. I rock in my seat, trying to drive that toy in deeper. It’s small compared to their cocks. Barely more than a tease inside me. But if I angle it right, it hits a spot of nerves inside me that make my toes curl in my heels. My pussy throbs against the vibrating toy. Slick soaks into my pretty panties. It seems like I’m flooding them. Like I’ve never been wetter in my life.

“Liam,” I moan, squeezing the edge of my seat. Fidgeting. Clenching my trembling thighs.

“Open.” He feeds me the last bite of dessert and hits the button on the remote.

I can’t take it anymore. I chew, distracted. Salty and sweet flavors burst along my tongue and the tension pulls taught between my thighs. He clicks it again and I shatter, moaning loudly. My walls clamp down on the silicone toy and waves wash over me. They make my pussy spasm and clench. Leave me dripping. And then I’m oversensitive. It’s too much. Far too much.

“Swallow,” he orders. So I do. The toy buzzes faster. Impossibly so. My reward. My orgasm hurdles forward. Into the swell of another. A bigger, deeper one that promises to wreck me in its aftermath.

“One more. You can do it,” he says, scooping up the dregs of our dessert. The final bite. But that’s not what he means.

He wants another orgasm. And my body is eager to obey, even if mentally I balk. I can’t. It’s too much. I won’t be able to hold my noises back. Already people are looking at us. Curious. Confused. I notice the heavy weight of their stares. See the alphas flare their nostrils, scenting me.

He slides the dripping syrup-covered strawberries past my lips. Deposits them on my tongue. I clamp down, scraping the fork clean as he pulls it out. Liam grabs me by the back of my neck and squeezes gently. “Good girl. Now finish.”

I swallow my mouthful of dessert and squeeze my thighs together. Increasing the pressure building there. Shoving me over that edge into orgasm. It hits me like a truck. Runs me over with pleasure and leaves me moaning and breathing hard as I try to stay quiet and fail. I shiver, far beyond oversensitized.

He clicks the toy off and the absence of buzzing is jarring, but welcome. Aftershocks zip through me, leaving me breathless.

“I’ll have whatever she’s eating,” someone tells their waitress.

My face burns with a blush. Liam leans in, brushes his lips against my ear, his voice deep and husky. “That’s our good girl. You’re so beautiful when you come for us.”

Our waiter comes over to take the empty dessert plate and forks away and I can’t look at him. I drop my eyes and lean against Liam’s shoulder.

“Will you be having anything else?” the waiter asks.

“The check,” Gabriel says, taking over. The waiter brings the bill in a leather book and they pay while I recover. While I remember how to breathe .

I’m dazed, satisfied and full, as they help me out of my seat. My ankles wobble as I stand on my unfamiliar heels. Liam tugs me against him and wraps his arm around me, taking some of my weight and keeping me from falling.

“Come again,” the ma?tre d’ says as we pass her station at the front.

“Oh, we plan to.” Liam chuckles and walks me out.

The cool evening air wakes me up a bit as we wait for the valet to let our chauffeur know to pull around. “Is anything else planned?” I ask.

“You’ll see.”

His promise both delights and frightens me.