“Wow, Sawyer. This place is nice. It’s cozy.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted it to be. It’s what I needed.” I step around in front of him. “Are you thirsty? Hungry?”
“All of the above, actually.”
“Follow me. I’ll make you something to drink and dinner should be nearly finished.”
“You didn’t have to make dinner for me, Sawyer. I would have been thrilled with an ordered pizza and beer.”
“Well, I wanted to because I think cooking is fun, and as for beer...” I open the fridge and grab two frosty bottles. “I have that covered.”
“You’re beautiful, funny, adorable, sweet, and you have impeccable taste in beer? Pinch me.”
“Now you’re just laying it on thick,” I giggle. “Make yourself at home.”
I watch him walk around my living room with his hands in his pockets, looking at the artwork on my walls and the few pictures I have on the mantle.
“Do you need help with anything?”
“No, I think I have everything covered. It’s just in the oven,” I twist open my beer with my forearm, just like my Dad taught me, without even thinking anything of it.
“Whoa. We aren’t just going to ignore what you just did and not even acknowledge it,” he says, with wide eyes as he places his beer on the counter.
I nearly choke on my beer when I start to laugh. “What are you talking about?”
He mimes out what I did, “Uh, the thing with the beer and the opening. It was fucking impressive and hot.”
“Oh.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “My dad always teaches me off-the-wall shit. That was on the list. I think I was around thirteen when I learned. Which I see now was inappropriate,” I laugh. “But I always have fun when he teaches me.”
“I think it’s badass and one hell of a party trick. You’ll have to show me one day.”
“Sure, I’ll show you anything you want.”
The smile on his face at my words makes me realize just how laced with innuendo they were. “Oh, well, I mean… you know what I mean. Not like that,” I giggle.
“You always blush when you get nervous. It’s pretty.” He reaches out and touches my heated cheek. “I’ve been keeping my distance since I walked in because I don’t want to push you, but I’d really like to kiss you right now.”
“Asking for permission?”
“I’m asking if you have any objections.”
I pretend to ponder, counting on my fingers for dramatic effect before shrugging, “Can’t think of a single one.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” he says and takes my face in both of his hands. “I’ve needed this all week.”
His head dips down and our lips connect with the same spark I felt on my doorstep after our last date.
I place my hands on his chest and curl my fingers into the fabric, giving him a tug closer.
He steps forward, using our newfound closeness to his advantage, and forces me to step back and back until my ass connects with my cold, white counters. He’s so much bigger than me, I’m sure if someone were to see us like this from the living room, they wouldn’t even see my body. I’m being hidden completely by him, shrouded from the world so all that exists in this moment is this kiss.
Our tongues move together, mixed with sucks and bites. It’s tender, erotic, and wholly perfect.
I can feel his breaths growing harsher and his touch becoming rougher. I like it. I want it, but this is happening so fast that my mind, heart and body are struggling to keep up with one another. My body is taking off in a clear lead and rushing to the finish line with outstretched arms. My mind is more logical, because slow and steady keeps us from tripping and falling into something we will regret. My heart is still wary, scared of being hurt or broken if she gets involved too soon… or at all.
I can’t let my body take over on this one.
“Wait,” I pant out, giving the slightest push to his chest, forcing us to break apart. He steps back and moves his hands to the counter by my waist, dropping his head. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, watching him closely.
His head swings back up so our eyes connect, “Why in the world are you apologizing to me?”
“Because that kiss got pretty… heated, and I stopped it.”
“Never apologize for making sure you stay comfortable. I should be the one apologizing. I had a rough night last night, and I just… lost myself for a minute with you.”
I reach up, cupping his cheek in my hand. For a moment, he nuzzles it against my palm, letting the stubble scrape against my skin. He looks so sad in this moment.
“What happened?” The timer for the oven dings behind me, and just like that, he pulls away from me, like that moment of vulnerability didn’t happen. “Have a seat. I’ll plate up our food and then we can talk, if you want to, I mean. You don’t have to.”
He nods. “Do you need help? I know you said you didn’t earlier, but I want to make sure.”
“You,” I point to the table with a grin, “sit.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He salutes me then goes to the table.
A few minutes later, I’ve got music playing softly from a Bluetooth speaker and we are both digging into the bowls of baked pasta I’ve made for us.
“This is amazing,” he says, taking another forkful.
“Pasta is a no-brainer. It’s hard to mess up.” I swallow my own bite then wash it down with some water. “So, if you want, talk to me about what happened last night.”
He stares down at his beer bottle for a moment, picking at the label before he begins to speak, “Did you watch the news this morning?”
I shake my head. “I try not to. It’s too depressing sometimes.”
“This won’t be any different,” he sighs heavily. “There was a boat accident up at the
