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I could smell the scent of his shower gel, the body spray, the everything that was Arlo, and with only a few feet between us, I could see the sparkle in the gray eyes that pulled me in.
“Looking good, Marshall,” I blurted, “clean I meant. You look clean.” Shit. Shit. Shit. I turned to the stove to retrieve everything we needed, trying to will down an inappropriate erection and slow my fast-beating heart. Then, when I thought I’d be okay, I laid everything on the table and encouraged him to sit, adding the bottle of red wine. I wouldn’t be drinking, but maybe Arlo needed it after he’d had such a busy week. He was so big on my stupid small chairs, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable. He poured wine and smiled at me.
He forked up some of the pasta onto his plate, then smothered it with red sauce. Then, he nodded as he chewed. “You’re good at this pasta game.”
“I also cook pasta with white sauce,” I deadpanned.
He snorted a laugh. We ate and talked about work and Charlie, and it was the easiest conversation ever. After dinner, he cleaned up while I fed Charlie, then we both played with him. I found a movie but I don’t remember too much about it, sitting close on the sofa, him with the remainder of his one glass of red wine. Then with one final feeding Charlie was down for the night, and this was where we would separate to our own rooms.
I don’t know what came over me. Was it the smile? Or the way he smelled? Or his gorgeous eyes? Or his broad shoulders? Or the way he held Charlie? Or just because it was Friday. Was I exhausted and overwhelmed and needing him to know how I felt? Or was I being selfish?
I stopped him outside his room, ready to say goodnight, and for the longest time, we stared at each other. “How is the app going?” I asked.
He blinked at me. “What app?”
“Dating, Wilton, Karaoke.”
He shrugged. “I deleted the app—it wasn’t really my thing.”
“But what about dating?”
“What about it?”
“You said you needed…” I waved in the general direction of his groin, and he chuckled, and the sound made me feel lighter.
“I never wanted to…” he began. “Look, can we talk?”
Oh God. What was he going to say? Was this it? He was going to find a different way to hook up. Once was enough, I shouldn’t let him do this until I’d had a chance to talk to him—to be honest with him.
“Sure,” I murmured.
“About the dating thing…” He ran a hand through his hair and it stuck up in adorable grey tufts.
I wanted to follow his fingers and grasp his hair and hold him close. “Don’t,” I said.
“Don’t what?” He sounded about as confused as I felt.
“Don’t go on dates,” I finished in a soft voice, and my gaze dipped to his lips and back up to his eyes.
Something passed between us, a heat or a spark of awareness, a connection I couldn’t deny any longer. Madness consumed me, and I placed my hand on his chin as he stared at me, confused, then I pressed my lips to his. He was frozen, and I eased back a little, fear gripped me that I’d fucked up.
“What was that for?” he asked and blinked at me, wide-eyed and shocked.
“You said my pasta was good,” I blurted because I was an idiot.
“And I got a kiss for that?” he mused and bopped my nose as he’d done with Charlie. It made me smile because it told me I hadn’t completely fucked things up, but then again, it wasn’t him falling to his knees and professing undying love. It was cute, but it wasn’t love.
But there was heat in his eyes.
“You know,” he whispered as he reached for my T-shirt and tugged me to him. “I think the sauce deserves a kiss as well,” he murmured after a pause, and moved that bit closer. “Spicy.”
Arlo was standing right there, his tall and imposing figure casting a shadow over me, and all I wanted was for him to tug me into his strong arms and hold me as he kissed me back. Our eyes locked, and time seemed to stand still. I could see the intensity in his gaze, and it made me want to fall to my knees and beg.
“Arlo? We should?—”
“Tell me you want me to kiss you,” he demanded. “Don’t tell me I’m wrong here.”
“I want you to kiss me,” I murmured.
