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Taking her tight grimace as my cue, I reach for her hand and pull her towards the door. Before we breach the threshold, we throw quick goodbyes over our shoulders and escape into the night.
The tension and humiliation of the scene back at Jaime’s place melts away as soon as I have her inside of my truck. Her scent permeates the cab, sending my blood flowing once more. The smile she offers me is small at first, hesitant almost.
“I’m sorry about them. God, they’re so embarrassing.”
“Serves me right for getting hard in their presence. I was pretty much asking to be ridiculed. But I can’t help it. That’s what happens every time I see you, every time I think about you.”
“Yeah?” she asks, a small smile playing on her lips, a hint of bashfulness coloring her cheeks.
“Yeah.”
And because she’s so close, I pull her towards me and meet her in the middle of the truck cab. Her lips are warm and soft, perfect for kissing. My tongue teases the seam of her mouth, eager to slide inside and taste her. It’s been one very long week, and I feel like an addict stealing his first taste of that succulent high his body craves.
“We should just skip dinner and go straight to desert,” she suggests, nipping at my lips with her teeth.
In desperate need of applying the brakes before I throw down in the middle of her driveway, I pull back slightly so I can gaze into her lust-filled eyes. Honestly, that doesn’t help. Her eyes are greedy and filled with dirty little promises. I almost give in to the desire to drive straight to my place and forego our dinner plans.
But I can’t do it.
This is only our third date. I’m not the type of man who bypasses the date part of the evening and goes straight to the bedroom part. Though, if I were one of those guys, this would definitely be the time.
No, Jaime deserves to be treated fairly and like a lady. She deserves flowers and dinners and movies. She deserves romance, and I’ll be damned if she isn’t going to get it. The guy before me didn’t appreciate her enough to give her those things, and that pains me.
Instead of ripping off her clothes, I opt to return to my half of the truck and adjust my very uncomfortable pants. When I glance back over, her face reads of shock and maybe a little disappointment.
Leaning back over and taking her hand, I say, “I would love nothing more than to take you home and ravish you for hours–days. But I won’t do that yet. I promised you dinner and a movie, and I’m going to deliver. Even if I have to watch Chris Hemsworth on that screen while suffering from the biggest case of blue balls this side of the Atlantic. I’m determined to give you the date you deserve.”
Her sweet laughter fills my truck. “I think if you manage to stay the course of this date the entire night, well, then you would earn yourself a reward.” Her eyes are infused with mischief and excitement, which does nothing to defuse the situation in my pants.
“Reward?” I ask, playing along.
“Mmhmmmmm,” she says, which comes out more like a moan.
“I’m listening.”
“Well, let’s just say that I’m wearing something very special for you. If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you unwrap it. Like a present.”
My eyes remain locked on hers, my body short-circuiting from the picture she painted in my mind. Red? Black? White? Lace? Satin? Silk? Thongs? Boy cut? Commando? The possibilities are endless, and I realize right then and there that I’ve officially met my match. I’m ready to wave the white flag, throw in the towel. I’m completely gone over a pair of gorgeous green eyes and pouty, pink lips.
“I’m afraid my blue balls situation has reached Defcon 1.”
“That sounds bad,” she says, rubbing my thigh. “We should just head back to your place so that you’re not uncomfortable all. Night. Long.”
Game.
Set.
Match.
