I grunt against her neck. “I’ve read enough about you to know that you’re an impressive woman, Eloise.”
“We’re circling back to talk about your stalkery tendencies.”
I can’t help but smile at how her breath comes in pants, how her chest rises and falls, and how she’s arching her body into mine.
“Like you haven’t Googled me, too.”
She looks away.
I grin again. “What’s the matter,tesoro? Embarrassed that you looked me up? Or impatient for question five?”
She sinks onto my thigh, wedged between her legs, and brushes her crotch on my leg with a nod.
“Question five: will you go out with me?”
Both her brows and body shoot up, her eyes flit across my face like she’s searching for the catch.
“If I say no…” She casts her eyes down toward where my hand still rests on her hip.
“If you say no, I’ll still make you come with my fingers. If that’s what you want.”
She nibbles on her lip, and I want it to be mine between her teeth. Her nod is so slight I almost miss it. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” I need her to be specific. I need her express consent, her agreement, just… her.
“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”
“I didn’t say go on a date with me,tesoro. I said go out with me. Plural dates. More than one. Date me.”
She snorts in my face. An honest to God snort before her mouth drops open and her eyes widen. I curve a brow in question, but I don’t ask it aloud.
“You don’t do relationships.”
“You’re right, I don’t. But I want one with you.”
The admission hangs between us, something in the air shifting, the anticipation is heavier than my confession. This is a pivotal moment between us, and I barely risk snatching a breath in case it upsets the fragile balance and startles her like a deer in the woods.
“You… want… me…”
“To be my girlfriend,sí.”
She tips her head to one side, eyes narrowing in an assessing way that’s fast becoming one of my favorite things about her. “We don’t know anything about each other.”
“That's the point of dating. We know enough about each other to start a relationship. We’ll learn the rest as we go.”
She falls silent again. My chest tightens. How will I hold it together if she rejects me? I want to spend time with her, take her out and introduce her to my pig. And my cock, which is still straining against my pants.
The silence grows right in parallel with my fear. I prepare myself to step out of her space and respect her “no,” but it never comes.
“Okay.”
“Mi novia.”
She nods.
Girlfriend.
I’ve never had a girlfriend before. I thought it’d feel different, restrictive, maybe it’s too early to tell, but the weight pressing on my chest isn’t so heavy right now. But just because she’s my girlfriend doesn’t mean, well, it doesn’t mean shit. She might have lost her desire when the conversation took a detour down reality lane.
