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“It’s not bad. We talked about it at dinner. I don’t want this date to be over, but I’m not sure I want to take you home and fuck your brains out tonight.” Did I say this out loud? By the way his eyes bug out, I have.
“Wait,” I blurt, stopping him from responding. “Let me clarify—I want to take you home and have my way with you, but you’re different than anyone else I’ve ever met, and I’d rather not fuck it up with sex.”
He lets out a howl in laughter. “I’m a pretty sure thing, Noah. I’ve wanted you since passing each other outside the gallery. But, I don’t disagree with you. So, we’ll see each other again?”
“Fuck, yeah. I’m a pretty sure thing, too, after maybe a couple more dates,” I answer, and it earns me Ashton’s sexy smile.
Using the sides of his unzipped jacket, I pull him closer. He comes without protest. I’ve wanted to taste his lips on mine since I first saw him. He lets out a slight gasp, and I reach for his chin, bringing his even with mine. “I’m going to kiss you now. If that’s okay?”
“God, please, yes. I’ve wanted this all night.”
I won’t deny him because I won’t deny myself. The second he presses his hips into me, rubbing his erection against mine, I’m starving for anything he’s willing to give me. My tongue traces the fullness of his lips, and when his mouth hits mine, a spark of need catches fire and burns through me. My arms tighten around his waist like I’m the predator and he’s my prey. But he’s not running. He wouldn’t get far. I’d follow him. Our pull is magnetic, and my need for him is overpowering.
My mouth brushes against him as I speak. “You’re fucking sexy, and there’s not a part of your body I don’t want to touch, lick or nibble.” His vibrations reverberate off of me. “You like that?” I ask, continuing to kiss down his neck and over to his throat.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “I hope you stick to your promises.”
I tip his lips to mine. “I’m fucking positive I’ll stick tothatpromise.”
I can’t hold back, and my lips collide with his, his body quivering, and it’s not because of the cold. We’re making our own heat. I drink in his taste, and I never realized what I could be missing with the right person. Could Ashton Brooks be the right person? I continue to melt into this kiss, one for the record books, and don’t want to let go. His hands slide up my back, and mine lower to his ass.
I can barely breathe anymore, and I reluctantly pull away. His chin and cheeks are slightly red from my five o’clock shadow. I love seeing what I can do to him.
“Does it hurt?” I ask, caressing his cheek.
“Only in the best way,” he answers.
“I could kiss you for hours,” I utter, dropping my mouth down toward his face, grazing his lips with a light peck, moving to his nose, and finishing at his forehead.
“You’ll get no complaint from me.” He drops his head to mine, and we stand here for several minutes. He smells of lemons and sandalwood, and his body, though a tad bit shorter than mine, is so similar to my own build that it’s familiar. His breathing is labored, as if he’s trying to calm his racing need for me. I know this only because I’m doing the same.
I pull away for a brief moment, tugging him over to a set of large rocks that make a barrier from the wind but also within the landscaping, can be used for sitting.
He rests his body up against one rock and I push my back against the other one. We can’t hold hands, but our feet touch. He takes out his phone, typing and such, and I watch him as the light of his cell brightens his face.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Just ordering a car. I don’t want to take the bus, and—”
“I’ll take you home,” I offer. It never crossed my mind that he doesn’t own a vehicle. Living in Seattle, you don’t particularly need it, but it’s not like New York or LA—not yet, anyway. More people have cars than not here.
“Oh, it’s okay. It really is, Noah.”
In my nature, I want to demand he cancel the car, but there’s a hesitation with him, and I won’t push. Maybe he’s had a bad experience with first dates? What if he doesn’t want me to know where he lives yet? It could be anything. But I know one thing—I have to have another night with him.
We talk for twenty more minutes until his Uber arrives. He leans in, initiating the kiss this time. It’s chaste, compared to the first one, and he leaves with a promise to text me when he gets home. I feel more like floating than walking as I head back to my car, elated at the thought.
* * *
“Did you get laid finally?”This is how my brother answers the phone.
“And what if I had Mom in the car with me?”
“But you don’t. We both know it. Are you sated and ready to work all night long?”
I let out a hiss, because he’s reminding me how much I want Ashton Brooks. “That would be a negative, Ghost Rider,” I admit.
“I thought you’d fuck a duck at this point. How long of a dry spell have you had?” There’s commotion in the background.
