14. Not Tonight
Bailey
The night is long. I know I’m not supposed to be enjoying myself this much, but it’s easy to forget we aren’t really on a date when he’s so easy to be around. The evening is full of flirty glances and casual touches.
Sacha slips a hand along the back of my neck, heating up the sensitive nerves there as he leans in to compliment my pinball skills again. When his breath glances across my ear as he laughs at my joke, I almost have to excuse myself to find clean underwear.
He is dangerously sexy. I thought planning the date so soon would give me less time to get emotionally attached, but I don’t think the plan is working.
When last call is announced, I’m surprised. I had no idea we’d been here so long. I down the rest of my cocktail and turn to find Sacha boring holes into me with his deep brown eyes.
“Are you ready to call it a night?” he asks, leaning toward me.
“I think so.” My hands reach up unconsciously to straighten the lapels of his suit. “But first dates traditionally end a certain way.”
“Oh?” he asks. “How’s that’s?” He lets himself be pulled toward me, surrounded by the lights and noise of the crowded bar, one of his large hands lands on the wall beside my head, and I squeeze my thighs together.
“Well, I probably wouldn’t have even agreed to this date if you weren’t such a good kisser.” I force the words out. It’s difficult to admit. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. I don’t want him to think that I’m not going to take his money. He’s cute, and nice, and is probably a good lay, but I’m not an idiot who walks away from a ridiculous sum offered by a rich person who has more than enough to spare. “This is probably your only chance.”
“Alright, then. If I only get one chance, then I’d better make it good.” His low voice rumbles through my entire body.
He traces a hand across my chin, his large thumb brushes across my lips, and shoots a heat straight to my stomach. His eyes sparkle in the arcade lights. For a second, even in the loud, crowded bar, everything seems still, like we are the only two people alive. He lowers himself to my face, and after a long golden moment of anticipation, he presses his lips to mine. Something sparks to life inside me, just like the first time we kissed. He is thorough, taking slow control of my mouth, claiming it inch by inch. There’s no rush or urgency, just a solid, controlled power that he uses like he’s trying to memorize the way our lips fit together. He’s soft, warm, pleasant, and completely dominating with the intense strength I can feel under his skin. A heat spreads, like liquid chocolate, slowly across my body. I could melt into him and stay there all night.
His hand slides down, brushing knuckles against the side of my breasts, but even with my urging he doesn’t take the kiss past PG. His hand comes to rest at my hip. I press against him, urging him to continue, to take things a little further, I want him to give in, take me home, and satisfy this itch I cannot scratch.
But he doesn’t fold under pressure. I feel the smile in his kiss just before his teeth scrape over my bottom lip as he leans back. His hands leave my body to prop himself against the wall, caging me in with his arms. My body mourns the loss of him.
“Will you let me plan our second date?” He breath glances across my cheek.
I nod before remembering we aren’t going to have a second date. Alcohol and his lips have lured me into a fuzzy state of intoxication. I’m going to break up with him on Monday and take his money. “What makes you think there’s going to be a second date?” I ask, trying to recover, but making no effort to move away from him.
As an answer, his fingers wrap around my chin so he can guide my mouth up to meet his, pouring his warmth slowly back into me until he manages to pull a gentle groan from my chest. “I think you really want to know if I’m good at more than just kissing.”
Dammit. Fuck. He’s right.
“Give me one more week,” he urges softly. Between his warm hand on my side, and the ache between my legs, I realize that I can wait another week for my money if I get a couple more tastes of this.
“One more date isn’t going to kill me,” I admit, and he rewards me with another long tender kiss before sending me home completely alone.