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“Shit. You know, I never even realized it until just now. Does it bother you?”
“No, not really,” she said. “It’s just sort of curious. Do you think that kind of thing is normal?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. I guess it’s all been about convenience.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
I shrugged. “All of the dates I’ve planned have been around here, probably because it’s the area of town I know the best. So afterward, it just makes sense to come to my place. It’s nothing against yours.”
“No, I know. That makes sense.”
I handed her a glass of ch
ampagne, and she accepted it with a beautiful smile. I sat on the couch beside her, sliding my arm around her as I did so.
She had a point, although I'd never considered it before. I had made a habit of keeping us in my area of town. Maybe because I didn't want the idea of going to her place to come up. Going to her place would mean meeting her kid, and I wasn't sure I was ready for that.
Even after agreeing to the Fourth of July thing, I wasn't sure I was ready for it. The second I met Jess's daughter, I no longer had the freedom to deny that there was something real going on between Jess and me. It was a big fucking step, to say the least.
“Did I push it too far?” she asked.
“It takes a hell of a lot to push me too far, Jess.”
"Come on. You know what I mean. Was it too much? Asking about the Fourth of July and about why you don't come to my place on the same day? I'm sorry if it was. I don't know what's going on with me today. I don't seem to be able to control the things that come out of my mouth."
“You don’t need to control your mouth, Jess,” I said, shooting her a warm smile. “You don’t need to control anything, as far as I’m concerned. And in answer to your question, no, you didn’t push me too far. You’re allowed to ask questions, Jess. You’re allowed to have feelings. I’m not interested in dating a mannequin.”
“But you are interested in dating me?” she asked quietly.
“Yes, of course. Why? Have I been too subtle? At the risk of me pushing it too far, I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Come on, don’t bullshit me.”
“I’m not,” I said. “What would be the point? You are. You’re beautiful. It kind of drives me crazy, actually.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me more about that part.”
“You like the idea that you drive me crazy?” I asked.
“Of course, I do. Which girl wouldn’t?”
“Okay, I’ll play,” I said. “There’s nothing about you that doesn’t drive me crazy. Not one fucking thing. I’ve never wanted somebody as much as I want you. It doesn’t even matter what we’re doing. It doesn’t matter where we are, what you’re wearing. I want you all the time. I dream about having you. I dream about you a lot, actually.”
“What do you dream about, when you dream about me?” she asked.
I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, unwilling to face her. It was unlike her to be flirtatious to the point of being overtly sexual, and I didn't want to get my hopes up. When I realized that she was looking right at me with overly bright eyes, my cock stirred in my pants again. I couldn't help myself, even if I knew it wasn't going to get any action. When a woman as sexy as she was looked at me like that, my body responded with a mind of its own.
“Are you sure you want to know what I dream about?” I asked, trying to adjust myself without her noticing. “I have to warn you, it could be dangerous.”
“I can handle a little danger. Go on, try me.”
“All right. There’s been more than one dream, but I remember them all vividly. I dream about how sexy you look in dresses like the one you’ve got on now.”
“Oh, whatever,” she said.
I smiled. “I’m dead serious. I dream about that, but more often than not, I dream about the way you’ll look when those dresses are on the floor.”
“And what do I have on?” she asked, her voice low with desire. “Once my dress is on the floor, I mean. What am I wearing?”
