Free Tough Enough by M. Leighton

shake. For some reason it fits. And watching her eat . . . Jesus H. Christ! She takes voracious bites, bites that make me want to strip her down, stretch her out up on the table, and enjoy eating her the way she’s ravenously enjoying her meal. Right in front of everyone. I wouldn’t care who was watching. She captivates me
that much
, dominates my thoughts to
that degree
.
    And, evidently, it shows.
    “What’s so interesting?” Victoria asks, a little ice in her tone.
    “Huh?”
    “You’re staring. What’s so interesting that you can’t even listen to what I’m saying?”
    I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about, uh, something I saw on television last night.”
    Lie. Big, fat lie, but I’m
not
getting into this with Victoria of all people. Katie doesn’t deserve that kind of negative attention.
    Her expression says she believes me Not. One. Bit.
    But considering the level of her vanity, my distraction doesabsolutely nothing to dissuade her from continuing her one-sided conversation.
    I try to pull myself back to the table a few times, but mostly I continue to watch the little witch across the room. I figure I’m about thirty percent successful until the waitress delivers a piece of pie to Katie’s table. That’s when I lose the battle.
    Her eyes get wide and a real smile spreads across her face as the waitress sets it in front of her. She grabs her fork without even taking her eyes off the cream-covered triangle.
    And then she digs in.
    I can’t take my eyes off her when she brings a heap of pale green custard to her mouth. She slides it onto her tongue and then closes her lips around the fork, pulling it slowly from between them. She doesn’t chew for a few seconds; she just lets the pie sit in her mouth. Her eyes close in ecstasy and I can all but
hear
her moan of delight.
    Blood rushes to my cock as that imaginary moan accompanies my previous thought of her lying naked beneath me.
    Holy hell!
    I’ve never thought food, or watching someone eat it for that matter, to be a particularly erotic activity, but I stand corrected.
    I’m watching, waiting for Katie to take another bite, when I’m brought back to my own table by a loud, waspish, “Rogan!”
    Irritated at the interruption, I bark at Victoria, “What?”
    I manage to pull my eyes away from Katie long enough to focus on my ex’s furious expression. “What the hell are you so interested in over there?” She turns in her seat and scans the diner before swiveling back to me. “What? Did you spot Elvis or something? I don’t see what you find so fascinating.”
    Even though she had to have seen her, Victoria obviously doesn’t find Katie a noteworthy sight and can’t imagine that
I’d
find her noteworthy either. I guess Katie has become so adept at being awallflower that she has others overlooking her, too. I don’t see how. I don’t see how anyone can overlook her wavy auburn hair, her flawless skin, her perfectly round tits, tucked away under a shirt that screams TOUCH ME NOT and makes me want to touch so, so much.
    Shiiit!
    The strain of my hard-on against my zipper is a better wake-up call than ten pissed-off Victorias. I’m in a public place, for God’s sake. With my vicious ex. Not
at all
the time to let lurid thoughts of a hot-and-shy little makeup artist get to me. I can wait until tonight. Maybe then I’ll be able to taste what’s been keeping me awake at night.
    Shaking my head, I clear my throat and nod toward Victoria’s half-eaten salad. “You done?”
    I suppress my sneer. I’d much rather Victoria eat like an
actual
person than like a starving bird. I’d much rather she eat like Katie. But she’s no Katie. Not by a long shot.
    “Yes,” Victoria replies in one petulant syllable.
    I throw some bills onto the table. “Good. Let’s get out of here.”
    I follow Victoria to the door, sparing one last glance in Katie’s direction. When I find her, her mouth is open and her fork