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It was a good kiss.
BUT THEN ITwas easy.
Dahlia lounged with a beer while he put things on the grill and teased him about the way he had so many ashtrays when he didn’t even smoke.
And he laughed and said that he was a social smoker, thank-you-very-much, and that these were social ashtrays.
She told him that wasn’t a thing, and he asked her if she was the authority of ashtrays and it was…
Easy.
They ate and they talked about work and then about people in town (there was a long detour of speculation about Kevin and whether his latest emergency meant anything and if he was going to be okay) and she felt relaxed around him in a way she didn’t feel very often.
He kissed her again.
More than once.
They kissed for longer and longer periods of time. In front of the grill while he was cooking. By the refrigerator while he was grabbing more beer. Standing over the table on the deck where they were eating because there was no table in his tiny apartment.
Each time, they broke away because he had to check something or get something.
By the time they’d eaten and each drunk three beers and were still sitting outside, there had been a lot of kisses.
She was shivering a little inside her clothes. “It’s getting cold.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” He pushed up from a chair, tail flicking as it propelled him toward the door. “I’ll get you a blanket.”
“Can’t we go inside?” She got up, too.
“Uh, we can,” he said. “But I have nowhere to sit inside.”
“Right,” she said, realizing this. It was just a lower area with a kitchenette and a desk with his computer, and the ladder to the loft. “Wait, can you go up a ladder?”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “Did you just ask me that?”
“I guess, obviously…” She came over to him, feeling bold, and pressed into his body. “Obviously, if that’s where your bed is, you can use a ladder.” Her voice lowered, now that they were close.
He put an arm around her. “I can use a ladder,” he said softly.
“Can you show me?” She sounded a little suggestive. The boldness was still running through her.
“You want to go up to the loft?”
“Well, there’s nowhere to sit, so I guess it’s our only option.”
“We can’t sit up there. The ceiling’s too low.”
“We’ll have to lie down?” She dragged her teeth suggestively over her lower lip.
He groaned. “You’re going to kill me, Dahlia.”
“Kill you?”
“Destroy me,” he said. He opened the door and pulled her inside.
They were kissing again.
She wound her arms around his neck.
