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Instead, I opted for a more traditional first date ritual—at least from what I’d heard. I took a step closer, once again grateful that she was a little taller than the average woman. The crane of my neck was far more manageable as I brought my lips to hers.
My intention was to kiss her softly, but when a quiet moan slipped past her lips, my plan was blown to hell. An insatiable sense of urgency took hold and I gripped her hips tightly, groaning at the sound of her muffled gasp against my lips when I hauled her up tight against my body. She clawed at my shoulders for balance as our lips clashed together hungrily.
My heart pounded harder than when I was ten years old and kissed a girl for the first time during a game of spin the bottle. Nothing had ever been so exhilarating and my hands clamped down tighter on her hips, pained by the fact that they couldn’t freely explore her body.
Damn, it felt right to kiss her. Just as right as I suspected it would when I first laid eyes on her and was totally dumbstruck.
“Ethan,” she murmured against my lips as she broke away. “I thought—”
“I know,” I interrupted with a sigh. I eased her back to her feet, clenching my teeth when she whimpered from the loss. “We should stop now. Before I’m forced to go back on what I said.”
She seemed surprised I was sticking to my guns and it made me ecstatic to also see a hint of disappointment. At least I wasn’t the only one with this desperate need.
“Come on, sweetheart,” I whispered, taking her hand and guiding her to the passenger side.
I opened the door for her like a gentleman and closed it behind her, taking the brief seconds out of her presence to mentally compose myself as well as adjust the rather uncomfortable hard-on the kiss had given me. With a wince, I realized I was in for a long night with only my palm as company. The price of being a fucking gentleman.
