Chapter 3 #2
“I don’t have one,” I confess. “I’m not as wild as I pretend to be when I’ve had a few shots of whiskey.”
He arches a brow. “A few?”
I nod. “Yes. Three. I’m definitely tipsy, but getting less tipsy with every passing moment because honesty is sobering. And speaking of honesty, I’m…” I wrinkle my nose as I add, “I’m twenty-four.”
His brows shoot up his forehead. “Oh.”
Dammit! I knew it. He thought I was older, I forking knew it!
I trace a finger through the condensation on the side of my beer glass. “I know I look older, and I hang out with older people, so it’s—”
“You don’t look older,” he cuts in. “I mean, you don’t look that young, but you don’t look that much older, either. I mean, I just… Sorry, I…” He pulls in a breath, setting the darts on the table beside our beers, taking a beat before he adds, “I just turned thirty-five.”
Thirty-five. Eleven years.
It feels like a lot.
Or it feels like it should feel like a lot. But standing here, staring up into his open, concerned expression, all I feel is safe. And turned on. And pretty sure he’s the yummiest guy I’ve encountered in years.
Fuck it, why shouldn’t we have a yummy night? Being honest doesn’t have to ruin things. Being honest can just…clarify them, put the guardrails in place, ensuring no one tumbles into the Canyon of Wanting More and gets hurt.
With that in mind, I say, “Okay, so, this probably isn’t a first date. It’s probably an only date… Right?”
He nods, a little sadly, I like to think. “Probably so.” He presses his lips together, then pushes his beer away. “Want me to take you home?”
I shake my head, pulse spiking as I gather the last of my Saturday night courage. “No, silly. I mean, not unless…you’re coming with me.”
His eyes lock with mine, making my belly flip. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I confirm, cheeks flushing as my inner “good Midwestern girl” screams that I’m being way too blunt.
But I don’t have time to waste beating around the bush.
I have one night alone at the apartment.
One last night to be wild and free before Beatrice and Blue come home with their baby, and I’m out the door.
I move into my room at my temporary nanny placement on Monday, and who knows what that will be like.
Even if I have a relatively “private” space, with a separate entrance, I won’t be able to bring a one-night stand back to my place of work.
If I don’t shoot my shot now, I’m in for another long, lonely stretch of the celibate life.
And that life is for the birds.
“Been thinking how much I’d like to take you home since I saw you tonight.
” My heart pounds as Dean leans closer, the slight shift giving me the guts to add, “Since I saw you at Cristina’s, really.
But I couldn’t do much about how much I wanted to kiss you when half my body was in plaster.
” I motion down at myself, my nipples pulling tight again as Dean follows my gaze.
I swear I can feel his eyes on the tops of my breasts, and I want so much more than his eyes on me.
Every part of me.
“But I’m all better now,” I add, squeezing the golden shark atop my cane for a last burst of apex-predator energy. “Well, mostly better. So, as long as you’re okay with a cane by the bed.”
His fingers curl over both my hand and the cane, sending my pounding heart into overdrive as he murmurs, “I’m very okay with that. And right now, I can’t think of anything I want more than to kiss you.”
I look up, my eyes going wide, but he doesn’t lean down.
I’m about to make the first move, when he adds, “But Karen will kill me if she catches us making out in here. She has a zero funny-business policy.”
My tongue sweeps out to dampen my lips. I’m pretty sure nothing about making out with Dean is going to be “funny,” but I nod. “Understood. So, should we settle the tab and—”
“Tab’s already settled.” He takes my hand as he nods to the left. “And the door at the end of that hallway lets out into the parking lot.”
“Lead the way, Mr. Kate,” I say.
“You remembered my last name.” He heads for the door, my hand wrapped up tight in his.
“I have a good memory. I also remember that you’re forgetting your coat.”
“Fuck my coat,” he says with a passion that makes me grin.
“You’re going to wish you had it when you’re outside.” I suck in a breath as he pushes through the door, sending an icy blast zipping through the holes in my sweater.
“You don’t have a coat.” He makes a beeline for his truck, parked at the edge of the mostly empty lot.
“That’s because I can never keep track of things at a party. So, I don’t let myself have things at a party. Nothing that won’t fit in the back pocket of my jeans. I don’t even have my cell with me.”
A yard or so from the truck, he glances back, his eyes burning into mine. “I know. I can’t remember the last time I was out with a woman who wasn’t on her phone every ten seconds. It’s so fucking hot.”
“You’re hot for my sustained attention span?”
“Fuck, yeah, I am,” he says, banding his hands around my waist and hauling me against him.
I drop my cane and wrap my arms around his neck, lifting my chin just in time to be in the perfect position as he crushes his lips to mine.
A jolt of electricity pulses through me from head to toe as my breasts flatten against his chest, my body celebrating our first kiss with a burst of sparkles and hormones.
God. Damn.
This man… His kiss, his touch… His soap and sweet-tobacco-leaf smell flooding my head as he strokes his tongue against mine…
He tastes like malty beer and salt, and I instantly want more of him.
All of him.
To hell with the cold, if I could magically disappear my clothing with a thought, I would.
Instead, I grip the front of his sweater and haul him in until there’s no air left between us.
I tilt my head, moan into his mouth, and give him everything, no holding back.
We’ve decided to be honest, and he should honestly know how honestly horny I am right now.
How desperate for him to touch me in ways I haven’t been touched in way too long.
His hands drop from my waist to my hips, his fingers digging into my jeans with a pressure that makes my breath hitch.
For months, my body has been an aching, irritable thing.
But when he drags me flush against the hard ridge behind his fly, I’m filled with a different ache, a bright, beautiful one that makes me gasp as he kisses his way down my throat, nipping with his teeth.
I lean into him, wishing I could wrap a thigh around his hips, but my bad leg won’t bend like that anymore, and it won’t hold me if I bend the good one.
So, I’m forced to do exercise every bit of flexibility in my pelvic region to grind against his gorgeous erection as I beg, “I want you to touch me everywhere.”
“God, yes, everywhere,” he rumbles against my skin.
I moan, then gasp again as he cups my breast through my sweater, making my nipple burn with the need to have his lips wrapped around it.
“Truck,” I pant. “In the truck. Close the door.”
He pulls back, looking as dazed as I feel. “We can’t get naked in my truck.”
“We really can’t,” I agree, even as I reach past him, popping the passenger’s side door. “Not unless that seat reclines. I bet it doesn’t, does it?”
“It does,” he says in a faux whisper that makes me grin. “It goes all the way back.”
“Good.” I kiss him again, long and hard, before mumbling against his lips, “I want to go all the way back with you.”
“I want to go all the way back with you, too.”
And then I’m off my feet again, swept up in his strong arms as we fumble our way into the cab—my good knee stabbing him in the stomach, my hair catching in the seat belt—before we finally get the damned seat down and the door shut behind us.
Then, he’s on top of me, and all I can think is, yes.
Yes, please, and thank you…