by Lisa Suzanne
“Ready?” I asked.
He nodded, and a hungry look passed through his eyes. He might have actually been hungry for dinner, but I swore he directed that look squarely at me.
He stood and discreetly adjusted the front of his pants. “You look…”
He trailed off, leaving me hanging.
I looked what? Ugly? Stupid? Hot? Stupid hot?
He strode slowly toward me, closing the gap between us. His fingertips ran lightly along my collarbone up to my neck. I felt his thumb gently nudge the hollow spot between my collarbones.
He leaned in and kissed my cheek, and my senses filled with him. He was visually stunning, his lips were warm and soft on my skin, and he smelled like a dream. If I thought DILF Jason smelled good…
The DILF smelled like yesterday’s garbage next to my rock star.
So apparently scents really did things to me. And Dax’s scent could ruin me. Not just me, but my project. Because I was pretty sure I’d never want to date anyone else ever again as long as I could just keep breathing in Dax and his lovely scent forever.
“Good.” He finally finished the thought he had started across the room.
Good? It was better than ugly, I supposed, but not exactly the word I was looking for.
I smiled awkwardly as I realized the two of us were standing in my living room staring at each other. Call me crazy, but all I wanted to do was throw myself at this hot man.
“Let’s go eat,” I finally said, breaking the tension. He nodded.
I could see why Dax had been able to pick up women so easily since he and his girlfriend had broken up. And it wasn’t just the inhuman good looks. He had this way about him, this thing he did that somehow made me feel like the only woman on the planet. I couldn’t figure out how, exactly, he did it, but it was one of those things I’d definitely write about in my report.
We walked out to his car, and I was delighted to find a really sexy and shiny older white Camaro. I knew nothing about cars, but I knew this one was a classic. It somehow fit him well and managed to add to his sex appeal.
He opened the door for me and smiled as he shut it, and then he walked around to the driver’s side and got in. He turned the key and the car roared to life. Music blared through the speakers. I didn’t recognize the song, but I liked it.
I bobbed my head to the beat as he drove. He caught my eye and smiled over at me. “You like this one?” he asked, turning down the volume to a comfortable level for conversation.
I shook my head. “Never heard it, but I like it.”
“Me too. It’s my friend’s demo.”
“Well I predict good things for your friends’ band.”
“Funny. I told him the same thing.” He looked over at me in wonder, and I just smiled back as I went back to bobbing my head to the beat.
The drive wasn’t long—about ten minutes, but it was ten nice minutes. Sometimes first dates were awkward, but so far, I was enjoying my time with Dax.
He parked, and I opened my own door, too quick for my lovely date. He smiled after he rushed around to my side. He shut the door behind me and I heard the beep of a car alarm. His long, strong fingers grabbed onto mine loosely. I was surprised at how comfortable things felt between us. I’d expected to be nervous, especially when I thought back to the night we’d met. I’d been a wreck as this really hot guy paid some attention my way. But just like he’d done earlier at my place, he somehow managed to make me feel like the only woman on earth. Or at least like the only woman he had any interest in. I had to admit I really liked how that felt.
I saw the way the hostess who seated us stared at Dax, especially when he ran his fingers through his hair. It was one of those little habits he seemed to have, but he clearly had no idea the effect it had on women. Whenever he did it, his hair would stand up messily for just a few seconds before falling back into perfect disarray.
His fingers clutched mine all the way to our table, ignoring the women who either glanced in his direction or outright stared at him. He was by far the most attractive man in the place, but the fact that he didn’t even realize it made him even sexier.
We sat and ordered drinks—a beer for him, wine for me—and then our conversation turned to the getting-to-know-you variety.
“So Austin told me you’re working on your master’s thesis?”
I nodded, flushing slightly. I didn’t know how much Austin had told him about my project.
“How often do you two talk?”
“On and off since high school. Sometimes it’s once a week, sometimes we’ll go months without talking.”
Austin seemed like a safe subject we had in common, so I stuck there for a minute. “Were you close in high school?”
Dax nodded. “We were best friends. We played baseball together all four years. After graduation, he went off to school and I stayed near home and took a few classes at the community college, but we stayed in touch.”
I thought about my girlfriends from high school. I’d kept in touch with most of them through our first year of college, but then we drifted apart. My closest girlfriend now had to be Shannon. It seemed like whoever I was in the closest proximity to at the time became my current best friend. I had lots of friends and acquaintances, but I’d always seemed to gravitate toward boys as my closer friends. Girls were so catty, and I just couldn’t stand drama. It was probably why I labeled Scott as my closest friend.
Scott.
On my mind again.
I pushed the unwelcome thoughts away.
“So what’s your master’s thesis about?” Dax asked after we ordered our entrees.
“Stereotypes in novels,” I said smoothly. I figured telling him about my actual research could compromise my experiment.
“Romance novels?” he asked with a smirk.
“Good guess.” I giggled. “It’s kind of my thing. Like music is your thing.”
“I get that. I managed to turn my hobby into my career. Sounds like you’re working on it, too.”
“Sort of. I want to go into marriage counseling, but I figured researching things related to happy endings connected to that topic.”
“Definitely. What have you learned so far?”
We were treading dangerous territory. If I told him about my project—or the fact that I was the constant and he was one of the variables in my research experiment—it could compromise my rock star research. It was possible he’d act differently or try to fit a stereotype when all I wanted was for him to be himself, for us to see where this could go.
I supposed I could tell him what I’d learned, though, without revealing how it specifically applied to me. “Bad boys are called bad boys for a reason.”
He chuckled. “Good observation. Any other obvious ones?”
“DILFs need more than a few weeks of recovery before they jump into a new relationship.”
“Question.”
“Only one?”
He laughed this adorable manly giggle that brought an immediate smile to my lips. His laugh was both hearty and endearing. “What the hell is a DILF?”
“A dad I’d like to…you know,” I mumbled.
“Fuck?” He cocked an eyebrow at me, and I nodded in mortification as I blushed all the way down to my toes.
My God. That word out of that mouth…
My desire for the man sitting across the table from me kicked up another notch.
Our waitress dropped off our food, and thank God for that since I needed something to focus on after all of Dax’s dirty talk.
Okay, it was just one word, but somehow he made that word sound like the hottest thing I’d ever heard in my entire life.
I threw back the rest of my first glass of wine. I hadn’t realized how quickly I’d been drinking it, but it flowed like our conversation. And then he did that thing where he ran his fingers through his hair, and it was so damn sexy that I stopped laughing and just stared at his hair for a second. In that moment I realized he actually may have been totally perfect.
“Go for it.”
He grinned, which in turn melted me into a puddle of lust. “When was your last relationship?”
“I dated a guy my senior year in college. Turns out he was dating a couple of other girls at the same time.”
“Sounds like my last relationship.”
I knew talking about exes was dangerous territory for a first date, but he had started it. And besides, I felt comfortable with him. If he wanted to talk about his ex, I was okay with that. He didn’t have the same bitter tone DILF Jason had. If nothing else, I could use the information in my report.
“What happened?” I asked.
“She cheated and I ended it.”
“How long ago?” I asked.
He twirled some fettuccini noodles around his fork and stared down at his plate. “Long enough that it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
I could tell he’d really loved her from the softness in his voice, but I could also tell he had moved forward. He appeared to be in the perfect place to get into something new.
Austin’s warning hung in my head, though. I didn’t want to fall into something only to find myself hurt in the end.
Dax wasn’t a relationship kind of guy, but he made me feel comfortable. He didn’t give off a douche vibe. He didn’t seem like the type who only wanted me for one night.
Plus I would bet money that Austin had given Dax a similar warning to the one he’d given me.
“Almost a year,” he clarified.
I decided to go for it. I had nothing to lose, and I wanted him to know I was interested. “Her loss is my gain.”
His eyes met mine across the table, and his were heated. His voice was husky when he spoke. “Seems like my gain, too.” His eyes flicked from mine down to my lips just as my tongue darted out to wet them.
He shifted in his chair and his eyes returned to his plate.
There was no mistake. Something was definitely blooming between us.
Our dinner conversation turned back to lighter topics. Through it all, a sexual undercurrent I’d never really felt with another man before pervaded our space. He made me want to put off the other dates just so I could see what might develop between us.
But I had a project to complete, and I hardly knew this boy.
I just knew for sure I wanted to get to know more of him.
11
Dax generously treated for dinner, and the two of us walked the streets near the bistro. The air felt warm and balmy for a gorgeous San Diego evening. Bars and restaurants lined the streets as we walked along. “Tell me more about your band,” I said. We’d spent the majority of dinner talking about me, and I wanted to know more about him. Plus I wanted the attention off of me and my research. It was a lot of pressure trying to ride the line of the truth without feeling deceitful.
His fingers twined loosely through mine. Walking hand-in-hand with Dax felt easy and natural.
“We first got together in middle school. We jammed on and off throughout high school. More off than on. We actually broke up when my junior year, but after graduation, three of us picked it back up and added two new guys.”
“How did you come up with the name MFB?”
He laughed. “Very few people know the real story, but you seem like the kind of person I can trust. Can I?”
I felt like he was asking about more than his words indicated.
I looked over at him, and his eyes latched onto mine for a second. I nodded and smiled encouragingly. “Of course you can. I won’t tell anybody. Even when you guys make it big and you forget about your date with the Psychology major book nerd.”
“You definitely don’t strike me as a nerd.”
“You haven’t spent enough time with me yet.”
He rewarded me with another one of those manly giggle things, and I subconsciously clutched onto his hand a little tighter.
“So MFB. We came up with it in middle school. I had to be in…fuck…early seventh grade? So maybe twelve? Anyway, our math teacher was horrible. Mrs. Fenwick. Adam called her Mrs. Fuckwit. She was evil. Like put me in detention three times a week for bullshit I didn’t even do kind of evil.”
“I’m sure you didn’t have it coming.”
He looked at me with such feigned innocence that I was certain I could see the young Dax stirring up trouble in a seventh grade math classroom.
“So Adam, Brody, and I were jamming in Brody’s garage with our fourth member at the time, and we decided to name our band. Adam said, ‘How about Mrs. Fuckwit’s a Bitch?’ and Brody said, ‘Mother Fuckin’ Bitch.’ We were split on it, and we were twelve. We couldn’t tell our parents we named our band Mrs. Fuckwit’s a Bitch or Mother Fuckin’ Bitch, so we shortened it to MFB. When Brody’s mom asked what MFB stood for, he somehow said ‘My Favorite Band’ right on the spot. And our actual name was born that night.”
I giggled again. I found myself doing that a lot with Dax. I would definitely have to mark in my notes that the rock star had a great sense of humor. “I love that story!”
He chuckled. “So do I. The five of us laugh about it all the time, and I often wonder whatever happened to good old Mrs. Fuckwit.”
“You should visit her. Tell her she inspired your band’s name.”
He laughed. “I don’t think so, sweets.”
Sweets? I liked it. It was different.
“So Mrs. Fuckwit’s a Bitch plays almost every night?”
He nodded. “I never have Thursdays off, but Emerson’s closed for a private event.”
“Lucky me,” I said.
His fingers tightened over mine. “Lucky me.”
I smiled up at him, and he stopped walking. He turned in toward me, his right hand still holding my left. His other hand came up, and I felt his fingertips graze my collarbone again, just like he had back in my apartment before we’d left. His hand came around the back of my neck, and I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch. He let go of my hand and laced his arm around my waist as my hands came up to rest on his biceps.
The moment was right. It was perfect. It was romantic and impulsive and sexy…everything Dax was.
And then right there in the middle of the sidewalk, the very sexy Dax, a rock star so far out of my league that we weren’t even playing the same game, leaned down and pressed his lips softly to mine.
Tingles shot through my chest and exploded out into my blood.
It was just one soft, tender brush of his lips against my own, but it was one of those moments where time stood still, where everything around us faded and we were the only two people left on earth.
And then everything turned back on, and he pulled back and my eyes opened. Our hands reconnected and we resumed our walk like he hadn’t just kissed me in the most earth-shattering moment of my life.
Our conversation picked up where it left off, but my heart was definitely in a new place. Everything was slightly different, slightly shifted. Slightly brighter.
We ended up at a candy shop, and Dax bought us a couple of chocolate covered strawberries. We sat at a table outside lit by candlelight and the soft glow of streetlights to enjoy our dessert and more conversation. And when I asked him what he thought of the most delicious chocolate strawberries I’d ever tasted, he just said they were “good.”
This was such a normal date compared to the first two guys from my list. And I found myself more and more into him with every second we spent together.
I learned about his band. He loved playing guitar, but as the lead vocalist, he tended to focus on vocals since there were five guys in the band. He only played guitar for a few songs during their set, and he admitted that guitar had always been his first passion.
I found that interesting, but it was fascinating that he felt comfortable enough with me to admit something so personal so quickly.
He asked me about my interests, and I admitted that aside from romance novels and psychology, I was pretty boring.
So boring, in f
act, that this date with this man had to be the most exciting thing I’d done in months. Maybe years.
We were heading back to his car when he broke the possible awkward end to the date before it even came up. “You want to come back to my place for another drink?” His fingers were still twined through mine, and his voice held a hint of hope.
There was not a chance in hell I would turn down that offer. “Sure.” I smiled up at him, and his eye caught mine. His gleamed dangerously, and once again I thought about how he could be the epic end of my project before I’d barely even gotten started.
I was already addicted to the way his lips curled at the corners. I wanted them on mine again. On me again. Anywhere. And for a lot longer this time.
*
We pulled into the driveway of a modest two-story home. Two other cars were parked in the driveway—a beat-up older truck and a bright yellow Jeep—and a few cars were parked on the curb right in front of the house.
“Looks like Brody and Kane have guests,” he muttered.
I almost asked if he’d rather go to my place, but I was curious about his house. I wanted to know more about him, and what better place to learn than his house?
“Your roommates?” I asked.
He nodded and shut off the car. “And MFB’s drummer and bassist.”
“What about the other two?”
“Rascal’s got his own apartment and Adam still lives with his parents.”
“Rascal?”
He chuckled. “Nickname. His name is William Rascowitz. Someone called him Rascal in kindergarten and it stuck.”
He opened his door, and I followed suit, too quick for him once again.
I giggled as he ran around the front of the car to my side. He caught my hand just as I shut the door. He tugged on my wrist and pushed me with his body up against the car door I’d just shut.
Holy. Fuck.
His body pressed into mine, and I could feel the hard cuts of muscle he’d kept hidden beneath his clothes.
And I could tell he was hot for me with the way his bulge pressed into my belly.
I was sweating. I had to be.
It was hot out in his driveway, or maybe it was just him.
