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This was a move that made my vaginal walls clench, because it was unusual, it was dominant and commanding, but it was also still gentle. A heady combination that made me even more upset he stopped us kissing.
“You smell good,” he said in a throaty voice.
“So do you,” I replied in a husky one.
“You look good,” he told me.
“So do you.”
“What have you eaten today?”
“A bagel.”
He shook his head and gave me a troubled smile. “I need to hire you a personal chef.”
“I’m still recovering from facial recognition to get into my building. Give a girl a chance to catch her breath.”
On that, he squeezed my ass, since both his hands were there (nugget of news: this did not help a girl catch her breath), and he said, “Your couch isn’t big enough for a Labrador to take a nap. I’m not having our first time include me performing feats of contortion.” I laughed at that, and he spoke through it, “I need to feed you.”
Sadly, since I was starving, and wanted wine, I had to agree. “Yeah.”
“Got any takeout menus?”
I had a drawer of them.
I didn’t move.
I cupped his jaw in both hands and warned, “This may freak you. It’s not meant to freak you. I just need you to know I missed you. It was one date, but it was the best date I ever had. I really wanted more, and it was a little scary how much it hurt when I thought you’d walked out of my life, and I’d never see you again. No pressure, and this isn’t meant to sound stalkery and weird. I’m just being real.”
He sat immobile, staring up at me for so long, I started to panic, because I realized that wasn’t too much. It was way too much.
I’d learn it wasn’t when I landed on my back on the couch, his chest landed on mine as he twisted over me, and he took my mouth again.
When he lifted his head, he whispered, “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“Yeah,” I pushed out.
He smiled and said, “I’ll get the menus. Where are they?”
“In the drawer in the kitchen where normal people would store cooking utensils or spices or whatever you use to prepare food.”
At that he laughed, gave me a peck on the lips, pulled us both up but set me on my ass in the couch, then he went to my kitchen.
He came back with an inch thick stack of menus and my wine.
I sipped and watched him sift through them, taking in the stubble on his jaw, the messy hotness of his hair, the way his long fingers moved, feeling my mouth bruised and the wet at the gusset of my panties.
I did this making myself a promise at the same time making a plan.
I was going to hire a new assistant/receptionist.
I was going to promote Zoey.
And I was going to pay more attention to other important things in life. Dad. Fliss. Carole.
Hale.
My life would still be about work, but it’d also be about more.
