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“I never said you were a child.”
“No, you said I was a good girl, and that you liked good girls,” she says. “But since the day we kissed, you sure haven’t acted like it.”
I shrug and hope it doesn’t look as awkward as I’m beginning to feel. “We get along fine at work.”
“We do.” She arches a brow. “But I’d like to do more than just get along, wouldn’t you?”
Before I can respond, Melody reaches up and takes my face in her warm hands.
A beat later, she’s pressing her lips to mine.
The moment our mouths meet, sparks fly, and my brain short-circuits in a flash of white light. A single kiss is all it takes. Suddenly, I’m no longer capable of honoring the promises I’ve made or remembering the danger of dating good girls or anything except how perfect Melody feels pressed against me.
My arms go around her with a moan, and my lips part, but before I can make the next move, her tongue is teasing along my bottom lip, sliding against mine with assured strokes that are sexy as hell.
Melody doesn’t kiss like a good girl. She kisses like a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it. She’s in the driver’s seat with this kiss, but I couldn’t be happier to be along for the ride.
Her soft curves mold to my body, temptation personified, and her honeysuckle smell swirls through my head, making each second more dizzying than the last. I angle my mouth, deepening the kiss, tasting strawberries and lemon and a flavor that’s all Melody, as sweet and earthy as fresh cut summer grass.
She’s intoxicating, and I’ve already had too much. A few more minutes and this kiss will be too hot for public consumption.
I wrench my lips from hers, my breath coming fast. “You want to get out of here?” I brush the hair from her face. “My place isn’t far.”
Her eyes widen. “Your place?” Her chest rises and falls faster, too, making it impossible to keep from glancing down at the swells of her breasts rising above her dress.
“Or yours. Whichever,” I say, already imagining the way that red dress will fall away from her curves when I unzip it, leaving her breasts bare to my hands, my mouth.
“We can go to your place, but I…” Melody trails off, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbling on the kiss-swollen flesh.
“But what?” I cup her cheek, brushing my thumb across her mouth, urging the captive lip free.
I would worry that I’m rushing things, but the way Melody kissed me made it clear she’s ready for some privacy, too. Just as the way her breath rushes out over my fingers now leaves little doubt my touch affects her the same way hers affects me.
“I just… I wanted you to know…” She curls her fingers into my biceps, sending another ripple of longing shivering across my skin.
“I’ve never gone home with a guy before,” she continues, her brow furrowing.
“Then we can go to your place. It’s no problem.” I hug her closer and grin. “Bachelor pads can be gross, but I promise I’ve cleaned the bathroom recently. Well, recently-ish.”
“It’s not that, it’s…” She rolls her eyes and laughs, a little nervously, I think. “I’ve never gone home with a guy. And no guy has ever come home with me. Ever. So…yeah.” Her eyes bore into mine, an unspoken question lingering in their depths. “Do you get what I’m saying?”
And suddenly, I do.
I know exactly what she’s saying, and it cools me off faster than a bucket of ice water down the front of my pants.
Melody is a virgin, and I just came dangerously close to making sure she’d always remember her first time as a one-night stand.
Or maybe a two-night stand.
Maybe we’d even last a month or two, but in the long run, we’d never make it as a couple. We would have hooked up, realized we were wrong for each other, and then drifted apart. And Melody would always regret that she hadn’t waited for the man of her dreams, a good guy who knows how to treat a good girl, and who would have been happy to wait until their wedding night if that’s what she wanted.
Thanks to her honesty, that good guy still has the chance.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, stepping away from her. “I had no idea.”
“It’s okay!” She reaches out a hand, but I take another step back, putting more much-needed distance between us.
“Nick, don’t,” Melody continues in a softer voice, just barely audible over the woman wailing about broken hearts onstage. “This doesn’t have to change anything.”
“No, I should go,” I say, forcing a smile. “You’re a beautiful, sweet person, Mel. You deserve an amazing first time and a great boyfriend and…all that good stuff. That’s just…not me. But I hope we’ll still be cool at work, you know, friends and…whatever.”
