Chapter 10
10
Juliette
“ T wo people, two games each, please, with the bumpers up,” Dylan requested at the counter.
“Bumpers? No!” Damn, I know I told him how bad I am at all sports, but I didn’t need bumpers.
“We all use bumpers when we play with my nephews. It’s more fun for everyone.”
I conceded and then we bowled, and it was the most fun I’ve ever had. We cheered like crazy for every semi-decent frame. He picked me up and spun me around when I got a lucky strike. He bowled a few frames with ridiculous pro-bowler flourishes, which had us in hysterics and made the bumpers almost as useful for him as for me. When he had a chance at a spare, he kissed me for luck, then threw a perfect spare. When I ended the last frame with a strike, I threw my hands up in the air, a bold move for me, and threw myself into his arms.
“Thank you,” I mumbled into his chest.
He gripped my hips and held me to him, sliding his hands up my sides, leaving a trail of heat and tingles everywhere he touched until he cradled my face in his big, callused hands. He moved me away from his body and tipped my head up. “The pleasure was all mine,” he whispered just millimeters from my lips, then he touched his lips to mine, ever so gently. I opened my mouth to deepen the kiss, but he pulled away.
I tried to take a step back, but he held me firmly in place. “I’m dying to kiss you, Juls, but there are families with kids around. How about we continue this back at my house?”
“Yes,” I breathed without hesitation.
We rushed to the car, laughing at our eagerness. We didn’t talk much in the car, but his hand rubbed circles over the back of my hand while also caressing my thigh, so it was the right kind of quiet.
As we got farther from the bowling alley, my nerves picked up. I could tell he felt it too, because his touch shifted subtly. Instead of suggestive caresses, he was giving reassuring squeezes. Damn, I was already ruining things.
Dylan slowed down and turned left into the entrance of an apartment building. I startled, realizing I’d been too distracted during the drive to pay any attention. I wasn’t sure where we were, but it looked like a nice neighborhood. His building was a little bigger than mine and looked clean and well maintained with flowers bordering the full length of the building. He drove past the building, down a long driveway that circled to the back of the building, and descended into a parking garage. He maneuvered expertly through the aisles and parked next to a big pickup truck in what I assumed was his designated spot.
He turned the car off, but made no move to get out. He looked at me with uncertainty in his eyes. “It’s early still. Want to watch a movie, and we can order in dinner a little later?”
“Yes?” Even I heard the question in my voice. That sounded great, and all I really wanted was to continue the kiss we’d started. But I was too overwhelmed with desire, nerves, and near-crippling fear that I was going to ruin this before it even started. I couldn’t summon up coherent words to sound more convincing.
“No pressure, Juls. You want me to take you home, I will. You want to go out somewhere instead of staying here, we will. Anything you want is fine, and I’m still going to call you tomorrow, no matter what we do now.”
His nickname for me, and his sincere words and soft smile, calmed my nerves enough to take a deep breath and steady myself. “I want to stay.”
His eyes lit up. “Good. Want to make popcorn and watch a movie?”
“Yes.” Good, that one came out with the certainty I intended.
His smile grew as he opened his car door, and I followed suit. He hurried around to meet me at my door, closing it and locking the car as he took my hand in his. We walked through the cool darkness of the garage and entered an elegantly decorated lobby with a few wing chairs around a glass coffee table, and a waterfall feature on the wall. We took the elevator up to the third floor in awkward silence. He held my hand the whole way, even as he opened his door and locked it behind us.
Standing in his foyer, with my stomach roiling and my heart pounding, Dylan grasped both my hands and turned me to face him with a question in his eyes.
I was sure about this. I was only nervous because of my issues. I trusted Dyan completely, without any reservations. How and when that happened, I didn’t know, but it did. I nodded, and he led me through his apartment to the kitchen.
His place was clean and comfortable. A big, soft-looking gray couch, a huge TV, and a bookshelf with a fireman’s helmet, books, and other stuff I couldn’t make out took up most of the living room. A dark gray, almost black, grainy wood coffee table sat in front of the couch, with matching end tables. A few remotes and an empty mug sat on the coffee table.
I followed him into the eat-in kitchen, which was functional with older appliances and a wooden table for four that sat in the corner. He pulled a bag of popcorn out of the cabinet, put it in the microwave, and pulled a big bowl from another cabinet.
“Can I do anything?”
“No thanks, I got it.”
I leaned against the counter and watched him—fine, shamelessly ogled him—admiring his rippling muscles and his efficiency moving around the kitchen.
“What do you want to drink? Water, soda, iced tea? Beer or wine?”
“Do you have white wine?” I needed a little extra courage to do this. And by do this , I just meant to get through the day without humiliating myself again.
“I do.” He pulled a bottle out of the fridge. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll bring it all out.”
I nodded and walked out to the living room, beelining it to the bookshelf, hungry for a glimpse into Dylan’s mind and heart. The kind of books a person reads says a lot about them.
There were two photos on the shelf. One of Dylan and his crew in their gear, standing in front of a fire truck, all clean, shiny, and smiling for the posed photo. The other, though. Damn. It was real. Powerful. Scary. There were three firemen. I could tell the one on the left was Dylan, and the one in the middle was Liam because he was the biggest, but I couldn’t identify the third. They were spraying water onto a house fire, the flames shooting into the sky so massive, the firefighters and their hose seemed insignificant in its shadow. A chill ran through me. I knew Dylan’s job was dangerous, obviously, but I didn’t like to see it.
I dragged my eyes away from the picture, eager to see it all before Dylan came out. The helmet was older than I’d realized. A gold eagle sat atop the black leather, its faded and cracked edges telling the story of its history. Next to the helmet was a metal plaque with grasped hands, with numbers below the hands and a crown on top. There were other firefighting tools and paraphernalia, and a propped-up corkboard that held fireman’s patches from SAFD, FDNY, LAFD, and a bunch of others. To the right were his books: a mix of firefighter history books, firefighter training books, and a few popular mystery novels mixed in. I was drawn back to the helmet, seeking a clue about when or where it was from.
“It’s from the early 1900s,” Dylan said from right behind me, scaring the crap out of me.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t.”
Dylan chuckled gently.
“It’s amazing,” I said. “Where is it from?”
“I wish I knew. The guy I bought it from found it at an estate sale, so he didn’t know any of its history. I just know he got it from upstate New York.”
“Do you know where and when they used that style? Maybe we can figure it out.”
“Yeah? You’d want to do that?” His voice was different than usual. Hesitant. Hopeful.
I turned to look at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking. “Of course. It’d be fascinating if we could figure it out. That’s a real piece of history. I can’t imagine firefighting was easy back then. I wonder where that hat has been, what it’s seen.”
He cupped the side of my face, his callused fingertips gently tracing my jaw, his gaze roaming over my face. My breath caught. Was he going to kiss me? I hoped so!
“You’re something special, Juls.”
“I—it’s...” I didn’t know how to respond to that. “What’s that?” I said instead, pointing to the plaque with the hands.
He dropped his hand, and I felt the urge to lean into him, to feel more of his touch, his warmth. But then he picked up the plaque to show it to me, and the pride and happiness on his face made up for it. Almost.
“It’s a fire insurance plaque from Scotland, issued around 1780. After the Great London Fire of 1666, before there were municipal fire departments, these were displayed on buildings to indicate they had insurance, and in case of a fire, firefighters from the insurance company’s brigade would put it out.”
“So they needed insurance just to get a firefighter to come?”
“That’s an unsubstantiated controversy. According to the stories, yes, but they were supposed to provide mutual aid.”
“That’s amazing. What a different world it must have been back then.”
Dylan didn’t answer. He carefully put the plaque back then turned to me, a strange look on his face. I started to fidget under his scrutiny, but then he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me into a tight embrace. He smoothed my hair back and wrapped his arms around me. I held him just as tightly. He was having a moment, and I hoped it was good, but either way, I was there for him.
“Juls. I love that you find this stuff interesting.”
I nodded, my face rubbing against him. “I do.”
“Come, let’s go sit down.”
He loosened his hold on me, trailing his hand down my arm to catch my hand in his, and I wished we had a longer walk than just across the room.
Dylan sat in the corner seat, and I hesitated. I wanted to sit right next to him. Like, no space between us, his body against mine to at least somewhat satisfy the burning need that was building inside me. But would that be weird? Should I sit on the next couch cushion, the middle seat, like a reasonable adult? I had no idea how to act on a date.
Dylan watched me, his dark eyes soft and warm, no doubt reading my awkward uncertainty. He moved his arm up to the back of the couch and gestured with his head into the space he’d made. “Come here, baby.”
The rumble of his voice soothed my nerves, and it also turned me the hell on. I quickly dropped into the opening he made, and he wrapped his arm around me. I leaned into his shoulder and rested my hand on his muscular arm.
“You good here?”
“Perfect.” I was surprised at how true it was. I felt comfortable. Relaxed. Excited.
“Good. Me too.” Dylan grabbed the glasses of wine from the end table, handing one to me. “Here's to us,” he said, clinking his glass against mine. “For a wonderful day getting to know each other, and for all the good times to come.”
“To us,” I repeated, then sat up to take a sip. The last thing I wanted to do was spill on Dylan’s couch. But now what? I drank more, just so I had a reason for moving away from him, for sitting stiffly next to him.
Dylan put his hand out, I think for my glass, so I gave it to him. He put it down and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me against him again. “I like it better with you here.”
“Me too.”
“Relax, Juls. I had an incredible afternoon. Let’s watch a movie and enjoy the evening together. You can just sit right there, and I’ll make a few subtle moves. I would’ve done the old movie theater trick, yawned, and accidentally put my arm around your shoulder, but we’re already past that. Maybe I’ll absentmindedly rub my fingers on the side of your neck, right here.” He slowly trailed one finger behind my ear, down my neck and around to the base of my throat where my pulse was pounding. Tingles ran through my body, and I couldn’t fight the shiver that coursed through me.
“Oh yeah.” I heard the smile enter his voice. “You just sit right there and let me work my magic.”
His eyes met mine and my insides melted as warmth spread through my body.
“I love the way you react to my touch,” he said, the teasing tone gone.
“I-I-” I couldn’t put together the right words to tell him that I loved the feel of his hands on me too. It sounded raunchier than I meant...well, I was thinking that also, but I really just wanted to say that I loved all his sweet little caresses.
I gave up trying to put my thoughts into words and leaned into his hand now cupping my cheek. I gazed into his beautiful brown eyes, then let my eyes drop to his mouth.
His fingers teased over my skin, strong and gentle, just like him. His thumb brushed across my lips.
“Can I kiss you, baby?”
His deep, rumbly voice had me wanting more than just a kiss. I opened my mouth and pulled his thumb between my lips. His eyes darkened, his body stiffened, and I felt it all the way to my core.
Incapable of words, I leaned in, tilted my head up, and closed my eyes. I felt his face inch closer until I could feel his breath on my lips. With one hand still on my cheek, his other gently touched my hip. I jolted at the sensation.
He grunted in pain as my head crashed into his nose.
“I’m sorry!” I cried. Literally cried. Within seconds, tears and snot and probably the mascara I so carefully applied were running down my cheeks.
“Easy, baby. I’m okay. I was just surprised. I’m fine. No need to cry,” he soothed. His hands came up to my face again, his fingers holding me in place and his thumbs gently wiping my tears.
I stared at the couch, afraid to see his pain or rejection.
“Are you okay?” He waited until my eyes reluctantly met his.
“I’m fine. I’m not the one who was head-butted.”
“I surprised you. I’m sorry. Are you okay? Did you hurt your head?”
“I’m okay. But I did want to, uh… Can we still…?”
“Yeah, Juls, I still want to kiss you too.”
He leaned in again.
“Wait!” I pulled back and he released me.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just… One sec.”
I ran to the bathroom, rinsed and dried my face, and ran back.
“Hi.” I dropped back down on the couch.
“Hi, Juls,” he said with a low chuckle. “You good now?”
I nodded.
“Come here, baby.” He reached out slowly, his hands dropping gently on my shoulders, sliding down my sides and landing on my hips again. This time I melted into him as he pulled me close.
His lips moved over mine, warm and soft, and then his tongue touched the seam of my lips. I opened my mouth, fire licking through my body at the feel of his tongue against mine.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, my nipples hardening into throbbing peaks as they pressed against his broad, hard pecs. I moaned and he pressed his tongue farther into my mouth, taking it from sweet to scorching in a nanosecond. I forgot about the first failed attempt at kissing. I forgot to worry about how I sounded or how I moved. I practically forgot my own name. I was only aware of how good this felt. How good Dylan felt.
His hands roamed over my hips, my back, my shoulders, one settling on the back of my neck, wrapping around a fistful of my hair and holding me in place while he devoured me.
One of my hands dug into his shoulder, the other grabbed onto his thick hair. He groaned when I pulled the soft strands, the deep, intimate sound washing over me. I was drowning in him, and I never wanted to come up for air.
He broke the kiss and I whimpered at the loss, but then he trailed kisses across my jaw, kissing behind me behind my ear, a spot that I had no idea could feel so good.
I dropped my head against his shoulder, his scent invading my senses, keeping me lost in the feel of him. Soap and man. I don’t know how else to describe it. He didn’t smell like cologne, or anything specific that I could name. He smelled like strength and excitement and comfort and, well, like Dylan.
“Juls,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you since I first saw you. It was even better than I imagined.”
I didn’t know how to respond. My only thought was to say “ me too ,” but that didn’t feel like enough. I silently squeezed him tight, hoping he understood.
“How about we watch that movie now? I had such gentlemanly intentions for today before you made me lose control.”
Holy shit. I made him lose control? This man had me melting into a pile of goo and I never wanted to move. I shifted against him, and he wrapped his arm around my back, holding me to him. I was half sitting, half lying on his chest, and I never wanted to move.
The movie played, but I barely even knew what we were watching. I was too busy memorizing the ridges of Dylan’s chest and abs, too mesmerized by the feel of his fingertips caressing my back and side, gliding over my hair, and teasing across my neck.
And kissing. Not quite like the first. Sweet kisses. Exploring. Promises of more to come.
Somehow, after a couple of hours of cuddling on Dylan’s couch, watching a movie and eating Chinese takeout, and lots of kisses and touches, I was more relaxed than I ever could’ve imagined. Snuggled against Dylan was my new happy place.
Our heavy talk before bowling, and the awkward first attempt at kissing, were almost forgotten, and it wasn’t like me to so easily forget things like that. But Dylan letting them go helped me to do the same.
Dylan ran his hand over my curls, brushing them off my neck, and tracing his fingers down my throat, sending shivers through my body. “I should take you home, Juls.” The reluctance in his voice eased the sting of his words.
I turned my head on his chest to look up at him with a mock pout.
“I know, but I want to be a gentleman. Can I see you again tomorrow?”
“Yes, I’d love that.”
“How about a hike?”
“Um, I’m not very good at hiking.”
“You said that about bowling, and we had a great time. I have an easy one in mind if you’d like to try it. But if you’d rather not, we can do something else.”
I loved being in nature, and I wasn’t against hiking, per se. I was against getting lost or limping back on a twisted ankle.
Dylan gently squeezed the back of my neck and patiently waited for my answer. And I knew down to my bones that he wouldn’t let anything happen. I’d felt it when he held my hand as we walked to that damned dinner, and I definitely felt it now with his strong, work-roughened hands on me. I was safe with him.
“I’d love to.”
“You sure, baby?”
“Yeah. I trust you won’t let me fall.”
“Damn right.”