He's already seen me crying hysterically. In fact, I'm pretty sure he had some of my snot on his shirt, and he didn't even say anything. I have never met anyone as steadfast as him before. He's not just this brawny man, but he's also strong inside. He's got solid values, and I respect that.
Maybe my outward appearance doesn't exactly scream I'm a conventional chick who wants the dude and the 2.5 kids and the nice house. But I do want those things. I just never really gave much thought to getting it.
Who wants to tell a potential boyfriend that their mother is a notorious serial killer?
Not me. It's attracted some weirdos in the past. T isn't like that. Hell, he already knows all about my mom, and he didn't go running for the hills when he found out.
In fact, he ran straight for her and took a shot for me. That's the kind of man I want to have in my life. One who won't be scared away and chased off by the skeletons in my closet.
I park my car in front of T-Bone's house, a quaint little white house on a quiet street. Somehow, it's exactly where I would have imagined T-Bone living. The lawn is perfectly cut, and the front door and garage are freshly painted. I'm having a vision of T cutting the grass, wearing his cargo pants with a pair of noise-canceling ear-protectors.
I can't help but shake my head and giggle at the thought. He would protect his ears while operating machinery. He's cautious like that. I'm still smiling when I knock on the door.
It doesn't take long for the door to swing open.
"Hey." T-Bone greets me with a huge smile, his hair wet from a shower.
Just seeing him makes my whole body zing with awareness.
They say that couples who go on first dates with high adrenaline activities are bonded quicker and deeper than couples who just go to the movies. And honestly? I believe it.
T-Bone and I might not have met because we were dating, but the twenty-four hours we spent together definitely bonded us to each other in a very deep, very real way.
He stands there, in his entrance, a smile on his face as he gestures me into his home.
He’s wearing his usual cargo pants and his classic black tee. Even though I hate those fucking pants, T-Bone looks so comfortable, so at ease, that I can't help myself. I launch myself at him, hands around his neck, mouth on his. Thankfully, T-Bone is fast and strong. He catches me and palms my ass, lifting me up into his arms.
I kiss him, delving into his mouth with my tongue. I even nip on his lower lip.
"Mila, if you keep kissing me like that, dinner will get cold."
"I don't care," I whisper, running my lips along his scruffy cheeks. "Take me to the bedroom. We can eat after."
"So long as you don't mind cold Chinese food."
"Bedroom, T-Bone."
"Yes, ma'am," he groans as I start to grind up against him.
With impressive agility, T-Bone walks us up the stairs and down a hallway.
The pale blue walls of his bedroom are comforting, and the soft gray comforter looks inviting. T-Bone lays me down gently on the bed, and before he can move away, I grab at the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head.
I've only ever had sex with tall, lanky dudes. So my reaction when T pulls his shirt off his head is entirely pure and absolutely embarrassing.
I moan.
I moan because I have never wanted to lick an entire body from head to toe in my life. Every inch of T is gold skin and rippling muscles. The definition of his abs is insane, and they just keep testing the bounds of my wits by ending in a deep V leading down, dipping into the waistband of his cargo pants.
I have never hated those fucking pants more than I do right now. Because they're keeping me away from something I definitely want. I tug at the button, the starchy material hindering my movements.
"I want to burn your pants," I grunt in the least sexiest way possible, tugging at the plastic disk.
"You don't have to burn them, Mila. Just got to get them off of me."
He tugs my tee off and throws it to the ground.
"I'm trying, but these things are an evil contraption."
His entire body shakes with laughter as he swats my hands away. "I gotta say your impatience is about as sexy as your bra."
I look down to the black lace and mentally high-five myself for having a pretty serious obsession with black lacy things.
T-Bone cups my breasts and runs his thumbs across my nipples. I arch up, offering more of myself to him.
Typically in bed, I am the leader. I have to take charge to make things good. Or at least mildly enjoyable. I don't even have time to do that with T-Bone. He's large and definitely in charge.
With a quick motion, he peels my pants off of me.
"Fuck, Mila. Do you always wear lingerie at work?" He groans when he gets a good look at the panties that match my bra.
"Life is too short to drape my naughty bits in ugly garments."
"I agree with you," T growls. "You should always be wrapped in something this delicious looking."
He leans down and places a kiss against my sex through the lace. The softness of his lips against the material has me arching off the bed. He drops another kiss before gently sliding them down my legs.
"The only reason why I'm not tearing these off of you right now is because I definitely want to see you in these again."
T pins my legs down onto the bed, an untamed
