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“Yes, I think so,” I said. “For now, anyway,” I added.
“Turn around, Chad,” he instructed, releasing my hands. I faced him, my chin to my chest as I stared at the ground. I felt small next to him, embarrassed at being vulnerable after admitting my physical response to him. He lifted my chin, and we locked eyes. “Are you afraid of me?”
I nodded. “A little,” I admitted. “Mostly because I’m not sure I’m ready to feel this way,” I whispered, moving a hand to his chest. He trembled from my touch. “I’ll probably mess it up.”
“Not as quickly as I will.”
I met his gaze, and we studied each other’s eyes; his deep blue, and mine sky blue. I’d seen a lot of pain in his prior to this moment, but today the pain appeared eased somehow. My hand remained on his chest as we stood in the morning sun in the middle of his expansive driveway.
“I came over for an excuse to spend time with you today,” I said softly. “You’ve been on my mind a great deal lately, to tell you the truth,” I added.
“Then how about we do just that?” he suggested. “No pressure. Just two people hanging out. We’re adults. There’s no reason not to see where these feelings you mentioned take us.”
“Two friends?” I asked, unsure of how I wanted him to answer.
“I’d like that,” he began. “But like I’ve said before, I’d like a chance at something more with you, Chad.”
“Me too,” I acknowledged. “What about the part where we’ll both mess it up?”
“Good point,” he agreed. “But what if we don’t?”
“Well, there is that. And we could keep things casual, right? No pressure, no labels?” I asked.
“If that’s what you require, then of course,” he agreed.
A wall that had been constructed around us, perhaps one both of us had built, began to crumble. Me seeing him as simply another über-wealthy New Yorker was slipping to the wayside. Was he seeing me as more than a head-in-the-clouds dreamer?
“Do friends kiss?” I asked.
“Do they kiss like friends?” he inquired. “Like on the cheek? Or something in between friends?”
“Shall we see?” I asked, tilting my head back. “Maybe we could try and then we cou–”
He cut me off mid-sentence and came down on my lips. He had brushed his teeth, sneaky fella, and his still-minty lips collided with my mine. He instinctively pulled me closer as one hand rested just above my butt on the small of my back, the other maneuvering the back of my head as he led the way. Bonus points for taking control. My weakness.
We kissed slowly at first as we discovered our limits in this first-kiss dance. Gently, he moved his lips across mine, nipping and exploring easily with his tongue, inviting, but not invading, my willingness to open wider. I moved my hands around to the back of his neck as he positioned both of his hands on my hips, lifting me slightly to meet him.
His strength was obvious to look at, but to be held in it, and manipulated by it, was a major turn-on for me. We fit, and fitting well during a first kiss is a sure green light in my book. With gentle persuasion, he parted my lips, and our tongues met in a fiery combat of passion. The analogy of a green light to move forward was replaced with a pistol at the starting blocks of a race for love. I was locked and loaded after one kiss with this man.
I knew very little about him. Why did he move here? What did he leave behind? Where was he going? Definitely things to understand better, but one matter of the heart had been decided. I wanted to move forward with him as more than his friend. And if all that was, was as a sexual partner, that could work. I’d never had a relationship like that, a fuck buddy as it were, but why not?
Our lips parted, but we remained glued to each other. He smiled and then touched his lips. “Wow,” he stated.
“You too?” I asked.
He nodded and his eyes widened. “Maybe I’m not so focused on the whole friend thing after all?”
“Yeah? Like, if it happens, it happens,” I joked.
“I heard friendship is overrated,” he said, moving loose bangs from one of my eyes. “But something tells me you’d make a great friend, too.”
“I have an idea,” I began, turning to my Jeep. “How about we wash our rigs first, and then try this whole kissing thing again? You know, just to make sure.”
“Rigs?” he asked, squeezing my biceps. “Are you one of those tough-talkin’ boys?”
“Well,” I began. “I tend to like my men tough, even the city-slickers like you. But as for me, I prefer to be the strength behind the man.”
Cole grinned, and a devilish glint bounced off his eyes. “So you like a man to lead; is that what I’m hearing?” he teased.
