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“I get that. I—” He paused, not sure how much he would be able to say, but he wanted to share pieces of himself with her. “I turned on music, too, after Kimmie died. Being alone was hard.”
“Do you want to get married again?”
The bluntness of her question surprised him, as did the fact that she felt the need to ask it. “I do. I hadn’t been looking. Maybe the right person hadn’t come past me, or maybe I wasn’t ready, and one passed me by. But, yes, I do.”
The small satisfied smile on her face was a clue that he’d given the right answer. Which was good, because it was also the true answer. Then she put her fork down, leaned over the corner of her table and kissed him.
Her lips brushed against his, and maybe that was all she had meant it to be. A kiss. But the brief contact had him wanting more. His chair squealed against her wood floor as he maneuvered his body so he could put his hand on the back of her head and press her into him. She tasted like tomatoes and garlic, and there was the sharp tang of vinegar from the salad dressing on the edge of her lips. He leaned into all of it. Into her. Into the smell of her. Into the softness of her hair and the softness of her lips and the liveliness inside her that made her glow.
Another chair squeaked on the floor, and their knees were pressed up against each other. A muscle in his back started to throb from the torqued position he was in, but her hands on his shoulders holding on to him like he was her favorite drawing pencil in the room distracted him.
But he must not have been the only person contorted into a strange position, because she slipped away from him and said, “This isn’t very comfortable,” before climbing out of her seat and onto his lap.
She fit perfectly.
His cock pressed against the fly of his jeans and the crotch of her jeans, and the pressure of it all was almost enough to make him explode. The muscles of her thighs moved and gripped as she leaned into him, nibbling on his neck, her hands clutching the short hair at the nape of his neck. He leaned his cheek on the top of her hair, encouraging her to stay there. To stay here. To give him more of a chance to smell the flowers in her shampoo and to feel her teeth graze against his skin.
Sharp alternated with soft as teeth alternated with lips, and every time sensations changed he seemed to get harder.
As he kissed the top of her head and breathed in the sensation of her being here, of them being here, wisps of her hair got up his nose. And suddenly his shoulders relaxed, the tension that he hadn’t realized was there gone.
Her fingers walked down his back and sides, leaving small fires in their path. Returning the favor, he trailed his fingers down her back, pulling at her shirt until his palms were in contact with her skin. Soft, delicate skin, made more interesting by a constellation of small moles his fingers traced along her spine.
“Oh, Levi,” she said, her breath in his ear sending shivers rocketing along his skin. Then she enhanced the feeling by shifting her hips and rubbing against his cock.
The sensations were almost too much to bear. He jerked his hands out from under her shirt and grabbed her face, kissing her with all the desire that had been building up in him for the past couple of weeks. Her mouth opened, yielding to the pressure and his tongue. They moaned together, hungry lips and tongues mingling. Their noses bumped. Their teeth bumped. The kiss was messy, tripping a fine line between affection and trying to touch and feel each other every place at once.
She yanked his shirt up, breaking their kiss long enough to scoot back on his lap. Her fingers fumbled with his fly. Then her hands were under the elastic of his briefs, and his cock was straining for her touch. Straining and desperate for her.
Their lips met again, filled with desperation and desire. He wanted her. He wanted all of her. Now. Immediately. As much as he could get of her.
Like a child, trying to eat all the candy without stopping to taste it.
There was almost an audible snap when he broke the kiss, leaving them both panting.
“Is everything okay?” Mina asked.
“I’m not...” He paused, unsure of how to say what he meant without sounding like a teenager in the back of a station wagon.
The hell with it. “I’m not ready,” he said.
