Natasha’s eyes practically danced at Clint’s reaction. She didn’t push him any further, didn’t let her foot slide up his leg no matter how tempting; for now she just rest her foot against him.

“I am definitely taking you up on that massage,” she said, placing her elbows on the table and leaning her chin on her folded hands. She loved when he voice took on that rough quality; it never failed to send a shiver down her spine. “I want you to press those fingers into every inch of me.”

She had been leaning forward to speak and smoothly shifted back again, smiling up at the waiter when he returned to place their food in front of them. The change was instant, she looked entirely composed again as she sipped at her water before turning that smile back to Clint. “So if this is my night then when is your night?”