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“Cam?”
“I don’t know. Probably back at my parent’s place.” I shrug apathetically. “Hopefully, I can find a job teaching. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” The note of longing in my voice could be heard in Alaska.
A young white couple flashes on screen. The man waves and kisses his pregnant wife, who looks more excited about being on camera than she is about getting kissed.
“You could stay.”
It takes me a while to register what he’s said because, again, I’m not paying attention to him. I’m way too busy ogling the loving couples on the massive screen. I used to be part of a loving couple. I used to be frigging happy––used to be being the operative words.
And then they point the camera at us.
On the jumbotron, my eyes go saucer big, actually bigger, like monster truck tire big. Calvin is a completely blank slate. Before I know what’s what, he slips that big paw of his around my neck, pulls me closer––and kisses me.
I’m in shock. I am in shock. Of course I am. That’s why I don’t move a hair. I don’t even breathe. He cups my face gently and slants his soft lips. Damn, they’re soft. One, two, three brushes.
“Kiss me back,” he whispers.
His eyes are cool and smoky at the same time, smoldering dry ice. That must be an oxymoron. I’m in a trance, wrapped up in solving this enigma, so it’s no surprise that all I can manage to stutter out is something incredibly stupid like, “What?”
And as I do, his tongue slips into my mouth and makes love to mine. Just the taste of him has my lonely soul begging for more. I press closer and he deepens the kiss, giving and giving. Lush, seductive, sweet. And so gentle for a big man. I can’t get enough of him. I’m greedy as all get out for more. I thread my fingers through his thick, short hair. His hat falls off. And I take, take, and take. I don’t ever want it to end.
The crowd goes wild. Mind blown. Game over.
Two weeks have passed since The Kiss starring him and me, and neither one of us has brought it up. Not a word. We just go about our day as if it never happened. Which is nearly an impossible feat because A: it happened. I know this because I dream about it every frigging night. And B: it was the most intense, earth shatteringly good experience I’ve had since…well, in a very long time. His kiss was not at all what I expected. Then again, nothing about this man ever is. It was soft and teasing, and generous…like him. Awwww crap.
“Cam?” His voice jerks me out of my wayward musings. I stare at the gorgeous man sitting across from me at the dinner table. Jezus, did I just say ‘gorgeous’.
“Yeah?”
His lips twitch in amusement. “Did you hear a word I said?” At my blank stare, the corners of those ridiculously soft and tempting lips hook up. “I asked if you have plans for the Fourth?”
I say nothing, completely and stupidly taken by those pink lips. His brow quirks. I’m pretty sure he just caught me staring at them. Great.
“Ahhh, yeah, my parents always have a big barbecue and invite all their friends. Sam’s coming with me.” At this, it’s his turn to stare back blankly. “How about you?”
He shakes his head and resumes cutting his steak into very precise pieces, trimming the fat off with the dexterity of a neurosurgeon. He seems disappointed somehow, like something took the air out of him, but for the life of me I can’t figure out at why.
“I just assumed you have plans.”
His head snaps up and his eyes meet mine. “No plans.”
A strange silence hangs between us. If I didn’t know better, I would almost say he looks hurt that he wasn’t included. That sounds hilarious even inside my head. Therefore, just to prove to myself how wrong I am, I throw out this, “Do you want to come with––”
“Yes.”
“––us.” Okay, what now? I chose a different strategy. “I need to warn you that you’re going to be subjected to hours of incessant fawning.”
“I don’t mind.”
Huh…it never once crossed my mind that he would willingly want to hang out. However, I don’t have time to examine this with the level of attention it deserves because my cell phone vibrates with an incoming text. It’s from Jason Miller.
“Sam, Mr. Miller wants to know if we want to meet Derrick at the courts tomorrow?”
“Cool,” Sam answers enthusiastically. I watch Calvin’s eyes move between Sam and me, his brow doctored with confusion. I type back my response and put the phone away.
“Who’s Mr. Miller?” says the big dude who’s been taking up a lot of space in my head lately. His tone, I don’t fail to note, is a tad suspicious.
