We finished the bruschetta—the sauce was so good I couldn’t resist gathering up drops on my finger and sucking them into my mouth, and I blushed when I saw the way Artemas regarded my action with an eyebrow raised and the corner of his mouth curled in a grin more tempting than it should be.
I gave a choked gasp, then whipped my fingers away from my mouth. “Sorry.”
“Not at all. It’s a pleasure to see someone enjoy his food so much.” He scooped up the last few drops for himself, and my mouth went dry as I watched him neatly lick his finger clean.
The pizza arrived, still in its pan, and I busied myself with selecting a slice and taking a careful bite so I wouldn’t burn my mouth.
And as we made inroads into the pizza, I continued babbling. You’d have thought I’d taken a dose of Love Potio
