by Tessa Teevan
At the bar, we find a booth in the corner, and she picks up a menu and looks down at it. I can’t stop looking at her. It felt a little ridiculous picking her up from my house, but with this being our first date, I wanted to do things the right way. When she opened the door, it was worth it. The first thing I noticed was her nibbling on her lower lip—a nervous tick she’s stopped doing so much the more we’ve spent time together. So when I saw her lip curled between her teeth, I knew she was anticipating this night as much as I was. My eyes shamelessly raked over her body, taking in the way her teal top perfectly hugged her curves. The V-neck was just low enough to give me a view of her cleavage. Black shorts showed off her lean legs, and even though the outfit was simple and casual, it was sexy as hell.
“You’re staring,” she says, and when I look up from her chest to see her eyebrow raised, I realize that I was, indeed, staring. Not that any red-blooded male in the joint could blame me. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like a starved puppy and I’m the bone.”
I grin and wriggle my eyebrows. “I’m always starved for you, but in this scenario, I’m pretty sure I’m the bone.”
She laughs and shakes her head at me, not calming down until a waiter approaches. I order a beer, but she orders some drink called Angry Balls. We get a couple of appetizers and I wait for the server to leave before leaning across the table.
“Angry Balls? Really? You know that’s what you cured me of, right? I’m not sure I want you putting that in your mouth.”
With a conspiratorial look, she glances around before scooting out of her seat. She comes to sit beside me in the booth, surprising me when she places her hand on my thigh and moves it up to cup me. She leans in and places her mouth just above my ear.
“You’ve never had a problem with me putting balls in my mouth before—angry or not,” she teases, her warm breath sending shivers down my spine.
She’s stroking me through my jeans, and I can feel myself growing harder by the second. With a little nip at my ear, she pulls back, desire and amusement flashing in her eyes. I suck in a deep breath and close my eyes for a split second before taking hold of her wrist and yanking it up. Placing it on the table, I cover it with mine. Then I lean in to her until my forehead’s pressed against hers, my lips hovering just above her mouth.
“You want to fuck in the bathroom, Ariana?” I ask with a low growl so only she can hear me.
Her eyes widen, and she swallows hard, her gaze not leaving mine. She doesn’t say a word.
“Touch me there again and that’s what you’re going to get. This is your only warning, got it?”
She nods meekly, and a huge fucking grin spreads over my face when I see that she’s flushed. I wonder if she actually likes the idea. Not that I’d fuck her in the bathroom at an establishment like this, but we have a limo in the parking lot for our own personal use, and if she tests me, I’ll drag her ass out there in two seconds flat.
“Your drink’s coming, baby. Go sit back across from me.”
Panic crosses her face, and it’s endearing, as if she thinks I’d actually let anyone hear our conversation. Just as she scrambles out of the booth, I slap her ass for good measure, causing her to yelp.
After the waiter sets the drinks down in front of us, she bends forward. This position gives me a perfect shot of her tits, and she has to snap her fingers in front of my face and repeat herself a second time.
“If this is how you treat all your first dates, no wonder you had angry balls,” she hisses.
Her glare is mocking, and I find it to be sexy as hell. After being on the receiving end of some pretty damn heated expressions, it’s refreshing to have someone as playful and sexy as she is.
“Ari, I haven’t been on a first date since high school.” I glance around at the flashing lights of the machines and the grown men whooping and hollering over the games. “In fact, I’m kind of feeling like a teenager all over again tonight.”
She looks puzzled, so I take ahold of her hand from across the table, intertwining our fingers.
“I know we’re doing this all backwards, and when the doctor gave me the all clear, I knew it was time to get out of that damn house and take you out on a proper date. When I got to Mom and Dad’s, I realized I had no idea what the hell to do on a first date. Mom offered tickets to the opera.” I pause as she shudders, which causes me to laugh. “That’s exactly what I figured your reaction would be. It’s what Megan and I would have done, and from what you’ve told me, that’s what you’d have done with him.”
She nods, and I feel satisfaction knowing I was right.
“So I figured fun and casual—do something the complete opposite. And since you’re so bossy, I wanted to see a competitive side. So here we are. Although, I do feel slightly out of my element being thirty-three and bringing my girlfriend to the arcade.”
“Fiancée,” she says, correcting me.
I squeeze her hand, loving the sound of that one simple word rolling off her tongue. If only it were that simple.
“Fiancée,” I repeat.
“I’ll be honest. When you said casual, I had no idea what that meant, and then, when the limo pulled up, I may have hit my internal panic button for a moment. But this? This is perfect. This fun. This is us.” She sits back against the booth and gives me an indecipherable look. “You’re nothing like I expected, you know. You’re so much more.”
My throat goes dry at her admission, and I have to take a drink of my beer. I’m about to tell her that she’s the same for me, but the waiter interrupts to drop our food off at the table. As we dig in, I decide to shift the conversation into safer, first-date territory. Tonight’s about being fun and carefree. If we keep up this line of conversation, I’m afraid I’m going to say something I’m not quite ready to.
Instead, she shifts gears for me. “Okay, Branson, we need to talk,” she says, giving me a serious look.
I’m mid-bite into a hot wing, and she watches me as I chew and maybe take a little longer than normal. I wash it down with my beer then brace myself.
“We do?” I ask, confused.
She nods then takes a sip of her drink. Her eyes nearly roll back in her head. “God, that is so good. Whoever thought to mix cinnamon whiskey and apple ale is a genius,” she informs me. “So you once told me that you knew me well enough and all the little stuff would come later. While the sentiment was really sweet and I agree with it wholeheartedly, I’m about to meet who knows how many family friends and relatives next weekend. I’ve been to plenty of weddings, and since you’ve kept me a well-hidden secret, I’m already preparing myself for a barrage of questions. Therefore, tonight’s date is the perfect setting for all those ‘getting to know you’ questions we overlooked when we decided just go to ahead and get engaged.”
I nearly choke on my beer, not expecting that at all. And she knows it according to the wicked gleam in her eye.
“Oh, what? Did you think I meant something serious? Oops. My bad.”
“You’ll pay for that,” I growl.
She leans in close. “I’m counting on it.” She laughs then pauses to eat. “I have never been on a date where I could eat a hot dog. Ever. I know I’m setting the bar low, but this is already shaping up to the best. Okay, so where to begin. Favorite color?”
“Really? That’s how you want to start this?”
She points a chip at me and gives me a dirty look. “Fine. Then the first question is all yours.”
“I’m just saying. My grandma Kate isn’t going to ask you my favorite color. In fact, they probably won’t ask you anything about me at all. I have a feeling all the questions will be about you or directed to you. Like, for instance, where would you want to honeymoon?”
Her eyes light up at my question and she mulls it over. “Honestly, my idea of the perfect honeymoon is staying home. Turning off all phones and electronics and just staying home together.” She blushes and tucks her hair behind her ear before looking up at me. “I guess this past mont
h has spoiled me.”
“That sounds perfect to me, but there’s one tiny flaw in your plan.”
“What’s that?”
“We live two blocks away from my mother.”
She laughs.
“I’m serious. She’s already seen you nearly naked twice, and if I hadn’t taken her key away from her, it would’ve been more times than that.”
She flops back against the back of the booth. “Damn. And I thought it was such a good idea.”
“The mountains are just a quick drive away. We could hole up in a cabin and not come up for air until our stay is over. That’d be just as easy as staying home, but with privacy and a change of scenery.”
“You know, of all the places I’ve been, I’ve never stayed at a cabin in the mountains. I like the sound of that.” She smiles at me.
My heart constricts, and for a split second, I forget we were talking about a honeymoon that’s never going to happen. Clearing my throat, I backtrack.
“Orange.”
She looks at me mid-bite, confused. “What?”
“My favorite color. It’s orange.”
She tells me that hers is blue, and we go back and forth while we finish our meal, learning those menial things I once said didn’t matter. Because, in truth, I like that she wants to know those things about me, and in return, I want to know them about her. I want to know everything about her.
After she gets a kick out of the fact that I used to dye the tips of my hair blond in junior high, I get the check and hold my hand out to her. “Ready to get your ass kicked?”
A huge grin spreads over her face as she taps my crutches. “I’m so torn between my competitive side and the guilty side that feels I need to take it easy on the cripple.”
I bend down, my lips on her ear. “I’m pretty sure I’ve given you plenty of proof that, even in my crippled state, I have no problem getting physical.”
She pushes me away playfully. “I have to admit it has been impressive. Now come on, hotshot. Let’s go.”
COMING TO an arcade while on crutches may not have been the best idea now that my knee is throbbing, but for the next two hours, Ari and I have a fucking blast as we kick ass playing as a team in games like Time Crisis, where her shot ends up being better than mine, and then Need For Speed, where I can barely contain my laughter as she struggles to maintain control of her vehicle.
When the game ends and shows that she finished in last place, I try to suppress a grin as I lift my eyebrows in her direction. “Good thing I didn’t see how well you handled the steering wheel before I volunteered you to be my live-in nurse,” I tease.
She flips me off, and I grip her wrist and yank her towards me. She slams into my chest with an oomph. Bending down, I press a quick kiss to her lips.
“I didn’t say I’d have changed my mind. I wouldn’t have.” I grin as her eyes soften. “I’d just have hired a driver.”
She pushes me back and storms away.
Laughing, I follow, and when I catch up, she’s staring at some dancing game. She looks back at me then down at my knee, frowning.
“You wanna play?” I ask, and she looks at me hesitantly.
“No, it’s okay. We can come back sometime when you’re off your crutches.” She starts to move on, but I hold out a crutch to stop her.
“Go play,” I tell her. “Plus, it’s not like it’s going to be a hardship watching you.”
A devilish look fills her eyes as she looks down at my groin area. “Then I’m not doing it right,” she teases, placing a kiss on my cheek and moving towards the game.
I find a seat to rest my knee, thankful for the reprieve.
The music starts, and as the machine lights up, Ariana tries to match it step for step. Unfortunately, the rhythm she has in the bedroom doesn’t translate to when she’s vertical. Not that it matters, because even if the machine isn’t appreciative of her moves, I sure as hell am. As she jumps, bounces, and wiggles, my eyes never leave her ass, not even when the machine signals the end of the song.
“Hey, stud!” I hear and look up to see her grinning at me. “Eyes up here.”
“Can I get an encore performance?” I ask.
Her shoulders shake with laughter as she tells me, “No way.”
Holding my hands to my heart, I give my best pout. “Please?”
“Oh fine,” she says, giving in and turning around to play again.
This time, she doesn’t seem to care about hitting the right steps, instead shimmying and shaking it just for my benefit. As she lifts her arms in the air and then slides them down her body, I notice that I’m not the only one appreciating her dance moves—or the body that’s performing them. A couple of guys have stopped to watch, and I’m instantly pissed off. One, because I’ve had to tear my attention away from her, and two, they’re looking at her in a way only one man is allowed to look at her—and that’s fucking me.
Just as I’m grabbing my crutches and standing up, she finishes and notices the other guys standing there. Her face flushes, and then she looks over at me, immediately reading my expression. She hops off the machine and runs towards me, jumping up in my arms and wrapping her legs around my waist. The crutches crash to the floor, but I barely register the sound as her lips come down on mine, her tongue forcefully entering my mouth, seeking my own. She finds it easily, and she kisses me with a fiery hunger.
My dick hardens as my hands grasp her ass and she rocks into me. A soft moan escapes her mouth, and then she slows her kisses, giving me one last peck before pulling away. Her arms are around my neck, and she looks down on me, a slow, wicked grin forming on her face.
“Who am I here with?” she whispers, confusing the hell out of me. She must see it in my expression. Her hand comes up to cup my cheek, her thumb caressing my skin. “Branson, who am I here with? Who am I’m going home with? And whose bed will I be in tonight?”
“You’re here with me, you’re coming home with me, and I’m going to fuck you so hard when I get you in my bed tonight.”
She shakes her head. “Are you forgetting something? I got my clearance today. It’s my turn to fuck you,” she whispers, giving me a saucy wink.
Someone coughs behind us, and she leans down to place one more kiss on my lips before loosening her legs and sliding down my front.
“I’m here with you, Branson. While it’s kind of adorable to see your jealous side come out, it’s unnecessary.”
“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you,” I growl, and she laughs.
“They have eyes, Branson,” she says, giving me a playful shove. “It’s not like I haven’t noticed women checking you out either. Let them look. I almost feel sorry that they’ll never get the chance to see you naked.”
My eyes narrow. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t picturing it,” I tell her, but she just rolls her eyes at me.
“Yeah, but even in their wildest imagination, they’d never get close to the real thing. I pity them, really.” Before I can respond, she moves past me then turns around to see me still standing here. “Come on, babe. I want to see what else is here.”
I follow and watch as her eyes light up when we come upon Donkey Kong.
“Oh my gosh! This was my favorite game as a kid. My parents didn’t think video games were suitable for children and the only time I could play it was in the summer when we went to my uncle’s house. Do you mind if I play?”
Shaking my head, I lean up against the arcade machine and watch as she tries to navigate herself through the round. She keeps getting stuck at the same part, dying time after time. Finally, she gives up and then catches me trying not to laugh.
“Hey! It’s been a long damn time since I’ve played this game. Don’t laugh at me!”
My laughter only deepens, and she huffs. “Come on, babe. Time to see how good you are with a basketball,” I tell her.
We make our way to the Super Shot game.
“You ready?” I ask, my hand hovering over the button. We’re about to pla
y one-on-one to see who can get the most buckets in the basket in the allotted amount of time. I don’t tell Ariana that I was the starting point guard for three out of my four years of high school.
“Ready,” she says, and the game begins.
Even though it’s been a while since I’ve been on the basketball court, I start sinking buckets with ease. After hitting ten in a row, I look over to see Ari struggling, barely hitting the rim. I take one for the team and let my time keep going as I stand behind her, pressing my front against her back. I show her how to fix her stance and line up her arm in order to make a basket. After she makes a couple, she pushes her ass back against me, telling me that she’s ‘got this.’
“That round didn’t count since you stopped to help me,” she says, and we start again.
Even though I win the next two games, she keeps wanting to play, so we decide to go best three out of five. When I glance over at her, I can tell she’s getting frustrated as more balls fall short of the bucket. She glares at me when she sees me watching and turns back to the game. She lets the next one fly a little bit harder, and it hits the rim hard, bouncing back.
I watch in slow motion as it comes back and hits her on the top of the head before falling to the ground. She looks at me, her eyes wide, her face flushing red, and I have to bring my fist to my mouth to keep myself from laughing. She blinks a couple of times, and I drop my own ball and pull her into me, my hands coming up to cup her cheeks as I inspect the top of her head. I place a kiss on the spot where she hit then another one on her forehead before tilting her face up so she’s looking at me.
“Does it hurt anywhere?” I ask, and she shakes her head.
“Just a little bruise on my ego,” she says, laughing it off. “I think I’ll live.”
“Air hockey?” I suggest.
She arches a brow at me. “I think I’ve had enough of sports. I never was very athletic,” she admits. “I’m much better at things like Wheel of Fortune, where I can use the vast amount of knowledge in my brain.”
