Chapter 4
Dean brought her an enormous autumn bouquet that had yellow roses with orange tips, crimson roses, orange lilies, white carnations, and oak leaves.
She lived in a small, but to her mind, extremely cozy house.
The flowers looked wonderful on the table.
Of course, her place was a bit cluttered.
Over time, every wall had been covered with a book shelf, so that the floor space was even smaller.
With her sofas, chairs, side tables stacked with papers, and standing lamps, it was like a maze.
He looked enormous in the small rooms. She had the fireplace lit in the living room and the oven going in the kitchen, so she cracked the windows to keep it from becoming excessively hot.
She poured them each a glass of crisp Pinot Grigio.
She’d decided on the fish. It seemed the healthiest choice, which she thought might appeal to him.
If his arms and the way he looked in clothes were anything to go by, he had about one percent body fat.
Quite the contrast to herself. She would be afraid to get her percentage body fat checked these days.
It was funny that he was interested in her.
Shouldn’t he have gone for a female marathon runner or a gymnast?
“The house is hopelessly cluttered,” she said nervously with a shake of her head.
“I know I should either get a bigger place or buy my books only in an electronic format. I just love this place too much though. It was built in the 1930s and has such great bones. It’s kind of like a cottage. I like old books, too.”
He glanced around, but didn’t comment. Did he hate it? Was he as unimpressed as he had been with her presentation? Why didn’t the man at least keep up a pretense of politeness?
All righty then, she thought, feeling unsettled. “You’re new to the area,” she continued. “Have you bought a house? Or are you still renting?”
“I have a loft in a building that used to be industrial space. Apparently someone deemed it hip and spent way too much money converting it into condos.”
“How many square feet?”
“Twenty-five hundred.”
“Wow. That sounds big for a loft. Is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s smaller than my last house, but it’s more space for me personally.”
“Oh, so you had a roommate?”
“I had a wife.”
“Oh, sure. Of course,” she said, feeling ridiculous. He wasn’t a college student. He just coached them. “Any kids?”
“No.”
“I’ve never been married.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. Engaged twice, but never sealed the deal.”
“Before I forget,” he said, removing a folded envelope from his pocket. He unfolded it and set it on the counter.
“What is that?”
“My notes on your presentation the other day.”
“You made notes?”
“Yes, after you said that you wanted feedback.”
She reached for the envelope and felt it. There was clearly more than one page inside.
“How many pages?”
“Three.”
She stared at him. “You have three pages of notes for me about how to improve my presentation? Either I’m a terrible lecturer, or you’re overly critical.”
“You’re a good lecturer. But that presentation wasn’t a lecture.”
“If the presentation wasn’t great, what makes you think I’m a good lecturer?”
“I sat in on one of your classes.”
She became still. That was taking things pretty far for having just met her. “Why, Dean? Why three pages of notes? Why tour my lab and get my number? Why go to so much trouble?”
“Because you’re not a casual hook-up for me.”
“I don’t really do casual hook-ups.”
“Good.”
She stared at his handsome face. “What are you thinking this is?”
“The beginning.”
She smiled. “Of?”
“Whatever it turns out to be.”
“So we’re on a date? This is a date?”
“Yes, this is a date.”
A blush blossomed in her cheeks and spread down to her throat, but she smiled. “All right, then I’ll show you that I did some homework,” she said softly.
She stirred the vegetables in the skillet and then set down her spoon and went into her room to grab her tablet. She returned with it and opened her Kindle App to the show him the books she’d bought on the fundamentals of the game of football and of football coaching strategy.
He flipped electronic pages while she checked the baking sheet of sweet potato wedges to make sure they weren’t drying out.
“You’ve highlighted all the way to the end of the fundamentals of the game book. Did you read it all?”
“Yes. Would you like to quiz me?”
“Maybe,” he said absently, continuing to flip.
“I think we’re about ready,” she said, pulling out the trays and turning off the stove’s burners. She arranged the food on serving platters.
He continued to read while she worked, which was helpful. It allowed her to grab a pair of candles and put them on either side of the flowers.
She lit the candles and stepped back. It was a really nice table setting if she did say so herself.
He had still not looked up. Had he come across some new coaching tips that he was considering using?
“Is the coaching strategy book any good?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you still looking at the fundamentals of football book?” she asked, walking to him.
“What is that?” she asked, then read a few lines and sucked in a breath.
“Oh my God,” she said, grabbing the tablet.
He was reading an erotic romance. There were thousands of books in her library, and he’d managed to find the kinky erotica!
She tried to pull the tablet from his grip, but he didn’t release it.
“Let go,” she said.
“Why?”
“I didn’t say you could go through my entire library. Those are really old books, by the way. How did you even find them?”
“I knew what I was looking for,” he said, releasing the tablet.
She jerked it to her and hugged it against her chest. She knew her entire face and chest were flaming red.
“You have the most amazing skin,” he said.
“No, I don’t. It’s the worst.”
“The only other person I’ve seen who blushed like that was a woman with strawberry blonde hair. Is that your natural hair color? It looks dark for your complexion.”
“My natural hair is red. It’s actually a sort of orange gold, nearly as bright as the tips of those roses.”
“Why would you color it dark?”
“Because I’m not a fan.” She took the tablet back to her room and tossed it on the bed. How had she not remembered that she had hundreds of romantic novels, some of them incredibly explicit, on her tablet? How incredibly embarrassing.
She returned to the kitchen and found that he’d filled their plates with food and was grinding sea salt over his. He added a little black pepper, then sat.
She joined him and launched into conversations about science and math, then politics and philosophy. She wanted to leave the embarrassing episode with the tablet far, far behind them.
He was witty conversationalist, which made her like him so much.
He ate second portions of the swordfish and of the vegetables, which also endeared him to her.
Her ex-fiancé had had an annoying habit of scoffing at seconds and of giving her a lecture about healthy habits if she contemplated dessert.
“You’re a fantastic cook,” he said.
“Thank you. I’m very glad you liked it. Should I look at your notes? So we can talk about them?”
“No, look at them tomorrow or over the weekend. We’ll talk about them next week.”
That made her feel warm and fuzzy. A second date arranged without a bit of awkwardness. He was very smooth.
“I made a strawberry rhubarb pie. Would you like a slice?”
He nodded.
She served him the warm pie in a small crystal dish, but wasn’t comfortable having any herself.
“Where’s yours?” he asked.
“I’m really full,” she said.
“It’s delicious. You should get in on this before I eat the last bite,” he said, holding out a spoonful. She loved everything about the fact that he’d offered her some of his dessert.
She leaned forward, her heart thumping a little more quickly as he watched her mouth open. She took the bite, then swallowed and licked her lips.
“Just watching you eat dessert is a dessert in and of itself.”
“I’m not very good at flirting,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You are. Maybe you should teach me that too,” she teased.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” she asked, surprised. She would’ve thought he’d like it that she wanted to flirt with him. Didn’t men normally like that? Of course, he wasn’t an ordinary man. He was a great-looking football god, right? Maybe too many women flirted with him all the time. They probably did.
“Flirting might be overkill. You already do this thing that makes it hard for me to take my eyes off you.”
“What’s that?”
“Breathing.”
She chuckled. “You’re exaggerating, but thank you. It’s very charming.”
He stretched.
“Are you tired?” she asked.
“A bit. I get up early in the morning.”
“Do you want to go?”
“No, I want to stay.”
The way he looked at her, unblinking and intense, gave her pause.
“Till when?” she asked slowly.
“Till morning,” he said simply, making her jaw drop. “I’ll leave if you ask me to, but it’s not my preference.”
“Like the hold on my arm,” she murmured, digesting the fact that he wanted to stay the night.
It was only their first date. Wouldn’t it be slutty of her to let him stay over?
Also, was she ready to get naked with Mr. Hard Body?
She sort of felt like she needed more mental preparation…
and a two-week fast and then six weeks of dieting and exercise.
“Exactly like that,” he said.
“What?” she asking, blinking.
“Exactly like the hold on your arm. I kept it until you asked me to let it go.”
“I’m—this would be really fast. I’m not sure I’m ready.”
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he stood.
“Oh,” she said. Apparently he was leaving after all.
Except when he walked out of the kitchen, he didn’t turn into the living room. Instead, he walked into the bedroom.
She got to the bedroom doorway a few seconds behind him. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“You said you weren’t sure. I’m gonna help you get sure. Come in here.” He picked up her electronic tablet and set it on the dresser. That freed up the entire queen-sized bed.
He pulled his shirt over his head, and she sucked in a breath. His body was incredible. It was like he’d been photo-shopped.
“Okay, now I’m sure. It’s too soon for me.”
He cocked a brow. “I’m a disappointment?” he asked, walking to her.
“Yeah, sure. You must get that all the time. Who wants perfection, after all?”
He tipped her face up and kissed her so incredibly deeply and forcefully that it staggered her. She bumped into the dresser, unable to keep her balance. His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her back to him.
His muscles were so hard. Every part of him was.
She slid her arms around his neck, pressing against him. The feel of him intoxicated her. The kiss went on and on until she felt hot and extremely turned on. He was amazing.
Then he unzipped her skirt and pushed it down. She froze as it drifted to the floor. He pulled back and sat on the bed, which was right behind him. Things were so close in her little house.
“Take everything off.”
She sucked in a breath. Wow. He wasn’t playing around. On the other hand, she really liked that about him. What should she do? Send him home? Or let him stay? She should send him home, but she wanted to let him stay.
“We could get comfortable,” she said softly. “I’d feel more comfortable if we turned off all these bright lights and got in bed.”
“Why turn off the lights?”
“For reasons that someone with your body would never understand,” she murmured.
He stood, unzipped his pants and pulled her hand to his erection. Lord, he was very hard and appealing all over.
“This is how I feel about your body,” he said. “Take off your clothes.”
Anxiety and desire warred within her. “Couldn’t I just—?”
“No, gorgeous, that’s not how things work with me.”
She gazed into his eyes, her fingers closing around him.
“Tease me at your own risk,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
“I want you to stay, but I’ll only be able to relax and enjoy things if you let me do things my way.”
“I doubt that.”
She tightened her grasp and stroked up and down slowly. He tipped his head back, closing his eyes. She would convince him. He’d get worked up and agree to her terms.
“Know what happens to girls who don’t do what they’re told?”
“What?”
“They get spanked.”
Her hand froze. She swallowed, her heart pounding, and she licked her lips. He had not said that like he was joking. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, very,” he said, opening his eyes and looking down at her.
She wanted to run; she just couldn’t decide whether she wanted to run away from him or to him. A little of both she guessed.
“Have you done that to anymore in the past?” she asked, still stunned that he’d threatened to spank her.
On their first date. He acted like it was completely normal behavior.
Maybe for him it was. Did other women just…
let him? She couldn’t help wondering what that would be like.
Not that she planned to agree to it or anything.
How could she? It wasn’t appropriate for someone like her to allow that to happen.
“Yes,” he said.
It took her a second to remember what she’d asked. Oh, right, he was answering the question about whether he’d spanked a woman in the past.
“And what happened?” she whispered.
“She married me.”