Chapter 33
33
Sybil
I opened the door for Kieran, motioning around my hotel room. “Welcome,” I said, waving toward the fireplace and the chandelier sparkling with the light from the setting sun outside. “Isn’t it awesome? I went with Grace to discuss a few things for the wedding with the planner and decided to get a suite for the weekend. Swanky, huh?”
Kieran walked through the room, admiring the same things I had, and I noticed how he looked everywhere except the king-sized bed. That was probably smart. He looked good, in jeans and a white polo shirt that made his olive skin seem sun-kissed despite the weather just barely dipping its toe into spring. “And walking distance to the concert?”
Stewie had asked us to make an appearance at an event featuring local bands. When I’d asked Kieran if he wanted to go, he suggested dinner before to make a night of it. The idea of an excuse to spend time with him under the guise of our agreement was tempting, even though I expected him to balk at the whole idea of the event. I could have been knocked over with a feather when he replied that he’d make a reservation and pick me up, sending back It’s a date .
“Just two blocks,” I said, striding toward the bathroom to finish applying my makeup. “I want to see you a little drunk tonight.”
I dug through the makeup bag on the marble counter, in search of my lipstick, when Kieran followed, resting one forearm against the door frame, showing off the lines of his stomach and chest under the shirt. He relaxed against the frame, but his eyes were intent on me. “I don’t really get drunk. That night at the karaoke bar was a rarity.”
“You were pretty flirty that night. I’m curious how you normally flirt.” I dragged my gaze from him and slowly spread the long-lasting lipstick over my lips, enjoying the way the deep red color transformed them.
“I’ve flirted with you,” he said. “You’ve seen it.”
“Well, sure.” I dabbed at the corner of my lip with my fingertip. “But say I was a stranger you met at a bar. What line would you use?”
“I don’t hit on women in bars.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay. Pretend I’m a cute girl you met in a cadaver lab when our eyes locked over an open chest cavity. What’s your line?”
“This may surprise you, but I’ve never hit on someone over a body, either.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “But I guess…I don’t know. I’d say ‘Hi.’?”
“Just hi?” I cleaned my lipstick-smudged finger with a tissue. “That kind of fits you.”
“I’m boring,” he said.
“No, just classic.” I leaned closer to the mirror to check my work, and cut my gaze to Kieran. “And I see you looking at my butt,” I added with a wiggle.
His cheeks pinked but he didn’t deny it, and I liked the idea of him watching me.
He was quiet for a moment while I worked on my lashes. “You look really nice,” he said, breaking the silence, and I held the wand still before the last swipe. “Not just your butt, I mean,” he added, sweeping his gaze up my body.
“But my butt, too, right?” I wiggled again and grinned at his overexaggerated nod before giving myself one last once-over. “I figure if I’m in a fancy hotel and we’re going on a fancy date, I should look cute, right? The dress is new.” I did a twirl, feeling a bolt of heat through me as he watched me from his perch in the doorway.
“Very cute,” he said, his low voice echoing off the walls of the bathroom. I walked toward him, but he didn’t move, his body still filling the doorway, and he dragged two fingertips down my arm before nudging me. “Turn around.” The command and the stroke of his fingers combined made goose bumps rise on my skin, and I faced away from him.
“You look beautiful.” Kieran’s breath grazed the back of my neck when he spoke, and my breath caught when I felt his fingers against the zipper at my back. “But there’s a tag,” he said, snapping it from my dress. “Now you’re perfect.”
I let out a nervous laugh. The sensations from the last few seconds had raised my temperature, and I squeezed my thighs together.
I slowly turned again, fixing an appreciative smile on my face when I looked up at him.
“You’re up to your hero stuff again.” I backed against the door frame, resting just beneath his forearm and feeling sheltered by his body. “All chivalrous. A girl will get used to you if she’s not careful. Might start to feel like a real date.”
“You can get used to me.” He stroked my shoulder, fingers catching on the strap of my dress, toying with the fabric. “You’re stuck with me as a date, at least for a little while longer.” His lips tipped up in a mischievous way, and he added, “I can’t have you looking like a mess when we go out.”
“Oh, so it’s like that? What happened to beautiful?” I swatted his chest, trying to take a step back, but his free hand slid to my waist and he held me in place.
“Both can be true! Would you prefer I didn’t tell you the tag was still on?” He was laughing, which made me laugh, and our voices bounced off the tile walls in tandem.
“I mean, you didn’t have to say I was a mess.” The doorway felt smaller the longer we laughed, and the cool wood pressed against my back as I looked up at Kieran.
“A very intriguing mess.”
“You said that the night we met.”
His laugh faded into a more sincere tone, and his hand grazed from my waist down my hip.
The way our bodies almost touched and the look on his face—it was too much, and I felt warm and safe and overwhelmed, but in a good way. My mind whirred with all the things that could happen next, with how easy it would be to kiss him and close the inches between us, and what might happen after he pressed me against the wall. Everything felt possible, and my breath caught in my throat.
He must have read my reaction a different way, though, because he took a slow step back, his arm fell from its perch against the door frame, and he gave his head an almost imperceptible shake before looking at his watch. “I guess we should get going. Our reservation is for seven.”
“This feels like a real date, Kieran.”
“I asked you out for dinner, so I think it is a real date,” he said.
“Remember I told you those usually end with awkward first kisses?”
He winked. “We already had our first kiss. But I don’t remember it being awkward.”
I felt my cheeks heat but nodded, smoothing down my dress and moving past him to grab my bag from the bed, where I’d tossed it. “Any more messiness before we leave?”
He shook his head. “What about me?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re never messy.”
He held the door for me, running a palm over his jaw. Under his breath, Kieran said, “Sometimes I really want to be.”
I stepped out the door, double-checking I had my phone in my clutch, but Kieran didn’t follow. He was still standing in the doorway, watching me. “What are you doing? You hate being late.” I held out my hand to guide him down the hall, but he pulled me back toward him, his arm sliding around my waist.
“What if our kiss was at the start of the date?”
“That would be messy,” I said, breath catching on the last syllable as his other hand cupped the side of my neck.
“Yeah.” His lips slid over mine and that same sinking sensation overtook me, that feeling like I was drowning in this kiss in the best possible way. Kieran’s grip was firm and his kiss insistent as he angled me toward the wall, slanting his lips to deepen the embrace, which seemed to go on for hours before we parted. His chest heaved and he guided a fingertip under my lip. “Now it’s a real date.”