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“Just nice?” he asked. “I stressed over them. You know, are roses too cliché? Should I get wildflowers which are more in line with your personality but they didn’t look good? All picked over. Roses seemed to be the thing they had that looked the best.”
“Not cliché,” she said, touched that he put the thought into more than just getting any flowers.
“Good,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.
She stepped back and took the flowers to the kitchen, set them on the counter and looked for something to put them in.
“This is horrible. I don’t have a vase. I never get flowers.”
“Shit,” he said. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Hang on, don’t laugh at me.” She found a glass pitcher she put lemonade in and filled it with water, then put the flowers in that. “This works and looks stylish almost.”
“I’d never know otherwise,” he said.
“Now that that is taken care of,” she said. “Dinner is in the oven and needs another twenty minutes or so.”
“Smells great.”
“Lasagna. I put it together last night and slid it in the oven when I got home. I’ve got this night planned out.”
He was grinning at her. “What’s the plan?”
She reached for the button on her shirt. Just a flannel one like him. It was the only shirt she had that wouldn’t look out of place with her leggings, but she needed buttons for the seductive move to work.
One by one she undid them until she exposed the red lace bra. Bright red. Light him up on fire red.
“This is the plan,” she said. “Do you like it?”
“Shit yeah,” he said. “Are you sure?”
“After weeks of kissing and making us wait, I figured out what was going on.”
“What’s that?” he asked, his hands over her bra and massaging her. His fingers were rough and a little calloused and it was sending shock waves to her core, making her knees tremble and want to buckle out from under her.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt this weak around a man before. With a man.
No one other than Gabe ever seemed to make her lose sense of her surroundings and she was trying to focus on what he’d just asked.
Oh yeah, he wanted to know what she figured out.
“That you were waiting for me to decide when I was ready. Do you realize that I’ve made all the first moves when it came to sex with us?”
His hand slid over her ribs and yanked her close to his body. “No,” he said. “That first time I believe it was mutual.”
Her head went back and forth, he was right. In her mind she’d made the move because she wanted it. It’s not like he sought her out as much as she brought him the beer. But bringing a guy a drink and having sex are two different actions.
“It was,” she said. “But last time was me. This time is me too and in a better state of mind. It’s all about us. I’ve been thinking of this for days. You and only you. No one else. Nothing drivingthis other than the hormones in my body waiting for you to bring me to that place I know only you can do.”
He seemed stunned by her words.
She was too. Words that were flowing out of her mouth like heavy rainwater on the ground after a drought.
“Here?” he asked. “You want it right here? Because I’m not positive I can make it to your room after you said that.”
Her shirt was pushed off her shoulders and she didn’t care if she got naked in her living room or not.
Well, maybe in the front room where there were windows to the parking lot.
