His lip curved up into a brazen smirk. “He told me if all best friends looked like you, one kiss wouldn’t be enough.”
“You better stop making me swoon.” I bit his bottom lip.
“And how ’bout you stop making me want you.” He tickled my waist with a squeeze, then glanced down at my robe. “Wait. Are younakedunder this robe?” He let out a groan.
I nodded, mouth pressed in a hard line, willing myself not to giggle again.
“Fuck. It’s cold shower time.”
They saytime reveals all things.
Time with Lucas revealed—proved—my concerns about whether or not becoming more than friends would change the dynamic of our relationship were premature.
We still bantered. Still joked around. Still argued about who had the best dance moves. Only, as more than friends, we settled those playful grievances with hot make-out sessions, stopping ourselves when things started to overheat.
But, four days into his recovery, I was afraid my clit would jump out of my panties and tackle his mouth. I wanted sex with Lucas Stone. Badly. His hellafine ass and so-good smooches too impossible to resist.
Both combating our urges, we had to come up with ways to help win the no-sex-for-six-more-days battle. At night, we no longer slept in the same bed—actually, we’d squashed that right after our first night spent in his bed brought us a little too close to…well, coming—and during the day, we tried to focus on things that wouldn’t make us think about sex. For me, that meant catching up on coursework, reading, and chatting with Chloe and Sage, while Lucas watched old game footage to spot areas he could improve upon, and caught up with friends like AJ, on FaceTime. Plus, there were showers. Lots of cold showers. And even though the days and nights spent not being able to share sexy times were brutal, pure torture, I relished in the thought that when he finally received the green light, Lucas and I would have hours upon hours full of explosive goodness.
“Can I take you on a date?” Lucas stood in the bathroom doorway, wearing jeans and a naked chest—damn him—chiseled lines of toned, too-good-to-be-real muscles on display. It was a little after 8 p.m., and he caught me as I was about to shower. I had plans to turn in early with Netflix and a bag of Doritos since I’d skipped dinner. Turned out early retreats to my bedroom were the only way to keep myself sane, keep me from jumping his bones.
“A date?” My cheeks heated, and I foolishly swiped them as if I could wipe the giddy surprise off my face.
“It’s what couples do, right?”
“We’re a couple?” I stammered, blinking up, trying to hold my gaze to his instead of the deep-set V I knew would make me salivate.
“Yes, silly.” He hooked his index finger into the front pocket of my jeans, snagging me closer to him, my hands on his chest as he bracketed my waist. “What did you think we were, friends with benefits?”
Once again, warmth coated my face, and part of me wondered if I’d ever stop blushing whenever I was around him. “I’d love to go on a date with you. But, when? The first night after you’re cleared?”
“No. We’re going on a date tonight.”
I stood there, thinking too much time in the house had made him lose his mind. He knew damn well it was against doctor’s orders for him to go out, risk anything happening that would jeopardize his recovery.
I opened my mouth to counter, but closed it once he commanded my chin up with the light touch of his index finger, dazzling me with his stormy blues. “After you shower, I want you to put on an outfit you’d wear on a first date, then meet me in the kitchen in about an hour. I’ve ordered us Chinese takeout from that restaurant you’re always talking about.”
“Red Wok?”
He nodded. “That’s the one. Now, hurry up and shower. You don’t wanna be late for our date.”
What can I say? He sure knew how to keep dousing me with that irresistible swoon magic.
After my shower, I quickly slipped into my favorite black maxi dress—slit on the side—and strappy high heels, my long hair in waves down my back. And to enhance my ensemble, I dabbed on a light coat of cherry-red lipstick, bringing out the coral-blue in my eyes, finishing it all off with a spritz of vanilla-scented perfume.
Like with any first date, butterflies bounced around in my stomach. Sure, Lucas and I had shared plenty of meals at some of the coolest restaurants—pizza, burgers, tacos—though none of those times weredate-worthy, the sudden realization messing with my mind. What the fuck were Lucas and I supposed to talk about on our first date? We already knew everything about each other. Well, almost. Still, first dates were get-to-know-you dates, and the only thing I had yet to learn about Lucas Stone was how his naked body would feel on top of mine.
The click-clack of my heels seemed to be in tune with the pitter-patter in my chest as I rounded the hall.
Deep. Breaths. Macy.
Seconds later, I found Mr. Eye Candy in the kitchen, dressed in jeans, a chest-hugging button-down, dress shoes, and a dashing grin that made my heart,and clit, squeal in delight.
Mouth dropped, his gaze scrolled over me as he stood at the candlelit table with a single red rose in his hand. “Damn, Macy. You look so freaking beautiful.”
“You’re lookin’ pretty damn hot yourself.”
He chuckled, welcoming me at the table with a kiss on my cheek that, even in its most delicate form, left me breathless.
