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“Your ex sounds like a piece of work,” Jared said.
I thought about that as I scooped noodles and sauce onto my plate. “Sometimes you’re just wrong for each other, you know?”
Jared laughed. “Don’t I.”
I waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t. That was for the best. Learning about his past meant getting personal. There was no getting personal tonight. Just raw, uninhibited—
“Bread?”
Jared picked up a basket and held it over to me. I stared at it, my mind clouded with thoughts of him shoving all this food aside and doing me right here on this table. At this rate, I might not even be able to get the food down.
“I’m not very good at it,” I said as I grabbed a roll from the basket and set it on my plate. “Sex.”
His movements froze again, the hand holding the basket hovering above his plate as he gaped at me. “What do you mean?”
I picked up my fork and cut into my meatball. I sliced it into smaller pieces that I could gracefully slide into my mouth.
“My ex was mostly a missionary position type,” I said as I twirled some noodles around my fork to combine with the bite of meatball. “He’s the only person I’ve ever been with, so I haven’t, you know, done too much.”
He stared at me a moment longer, then set the basket down, wiped his hands on the napkin resting on his lap, and picked up his fork. “I’m not the missionary position type.” He picked up a meatball and took a generous bite. “I mean, missionary position is fine, but it’s more pleasurable for the woman if she’s on top. Or taken from behind. There’s a certain position that hits the spot in a way nothing else can.
I was trying to eat, but as amazing as the spaghetti was, all I could think about was him entering me from behind, his hands on my breasts, his naked hips moving rhythmically as he pumped harder and harder, nearing orgasm—
“Plus, from behind, I can touch you,” Jared said, his attention seemingly focused on the spaghetti he was looping around his fork. “Your breasts, your clit. I can stimulate it at the same time I enter you. That alone can drive an orgasm stronger than anything a woman has ever experienced before.”
My fork slipped from my hands and dropped to the plate. I was the one who’d started this line of conversation, knowing we’d have to finish dinner before we could get to the really good stuff. The stuff I came here for.
“I have a microwave,” he said.
The statement was so out of place, it took me a second to orient myself. I watched him as he shoved a generous forkful of food into his mouth and waited for him to clarify.
Once he’d chewed and swallowed, he added, “We could heat this back up later. After…”
He didn’t have to say another word. I set my fork and napkin next to my plate and pushed my chair back.
“Let’s go,” I said.
5
JARED
We didn’t make it to the bedroom.
That had been my original plan. I’d take Zoey to the bedroom and lay her down gently on my bed. When she was comfortable, I’d feast on her body until she was breathless, writhing beneath me.
But I’d barely gotten two steps toward her when she put her hands on my shoulders and pulled me toward her. Our mouths met hungrily, tongues tangling as her hands roamed my arms, my hips, my buttocks. And then she was fumbling with my belt, and I had to reach down to stop her, pulling away.
“You first,” I said.
I was still debating picking her up and carrying her to my bedroom when she looked around, grabbed my hand, and led me to the pool table. Then she spun around, and we were kissing again, hands feverishly roaming, unable to get enough of each other. I had to slow this down.
I took control, tugging the zipper of her dress downward and peeling it off her. It dropped to the floor, revealing a black lace bra and matching black panties. I sucked in a breath as I stepped back, letting my gaze freely roam. I was so distracted by my visual feast, I didn’t notice she’d suddenly cast her gaze downward, her expression tight.
“You’re beautiful,” I said. “You know that, right?”
She looked up at me then and shook her head. “I’m soft.”
She poked her midsection, and I wished more than anything she could see herself the way I did. I’d never get tired of staring at her soft curves, taking in her delicate features and that shy smile.
