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And damn him, if he didn’t laugh. And damn me, if I didn’t join in. “Damn it, V. You’ve always got a point.” V. He’d called me V. My heart stopped for a beat, and I felt something I was desperate to hang onto.
This time, Daniel instigated the meeting of our mouths, and it was different from before. No less impassioned, maybe more so, but the desperation had worn off, and he took his time, savoring me. I let him do as he pleased. It felt too good not to. I writhed against him for any kind of friction, and he hissed when I brushed his erection. He ripped his lips off of mine, an almost pained sound coming from him. He rested his forehead against mine as we panted, breathless.
“Vivian.”
I loved the sound of my name on his lips. It was a declaration of reverence.
“We need to go, or we’ll be spending Christmas Eve on the side of the road.”
“I don’t care.” And I didn’t.
He smiled, and I tightened my grip on him. “I think we can do better than this.”
“Well, it’s going to be pretty damn difficult to top,” I declared.
“I’m up for it.” His brow creased. “I’ve outdone myself on this first date. What the hell am I going to do for an encore?”
“Are you asking me out again?”
“I am.”
“You could put me in charge,” I suggested.
“Are you agreeing to another date?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll let you handle our hundredth date.”
“Why hundredth?” I gave him a quizzical look.
“Figure you’d at least stick around that long just so you could have your way.”
“I’ll have my way regardless.”
“You sure about that, Princess?”
“Positive.” He carried me to the Land Rover and deposited me inside. “One hundred dates is an awful lot.”
“I didn’t think it sounded like near enough,” Daniel said. He slipped on his sunglasses and fired up the engine, turning up the volume on Madonna. I looked at him like he’d been invaded by aliens, and then I settled back in my seat.
“The third date is mine,” I said once we were back on the road.
“Are you asking me out?” he asked, and I wished I could see his eyes behind the lenses of his aviators.
“I am,” I confirmed.
“Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we? Shouldn’t we see how the second date goes?”
“This, from the man who’s already counting on a hundred? You know, if all our dates last over two weeks, we’re talking about years?”
“I’m perfectly aware of that,” he replied haughtily.
“So you’re agreeing to a third date?”
“Yup.” He paused. “Actually, I’m agreeing to ninety-nine more.”
“Eyes on the road, Princess.” I pointed out the windshield. “So what happens after one hundred?” I tried not to sound too anxious. We were on the ninth day of our first date, and I was getting ahead of myself, but I wanted to know.
