by R. C. Martin
“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“That depends. Do you like surprises?”
“Mmmm—yes. Well, so long as they’re the good kind.”
“This is the good kind.”
“Okay,” she concedes.
“That was easier than I thought it was going to be,” I chuckle.
I see her shrug out of the corner of my eye before she confesses, “I trust you.”
For the duration of our ride, we talk about the places she’s been since she’s moved to the city. Her list isn’t long, and I find myself wanting to change that. Denver has a lot to offer, and the state itself has far more. She should get to experience as much of it as she’d like. I don’t say as much, not wanting to jump too far ahead of myself. This is only our first date, and I have no idea where things will lead. However, I’ll admit I like where things are headed so far.
“What is this place?” she asks as I pull into the packed lot of Mile High Station.
“Mile High Station,” I answer, like a smartass.
“I meant, what are we doing at this place?” she laughs.
After finding an empty stall, I pretend like I’m too busy concentrating on backing into the spot to answer her. When I put the SUV in park and kill the engine, I smirk as I finally reply, “This is Denver’s annual brew fest.”
Her gorgeous eyes grow round in wonder, her jaw falling open in awe before she gasps, “Like a tasting?”
Speaking through a cocky grin, I reply, “Yup. All local brews.”
“Oh, my god. This is the greatest idea.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, leaning toward me over the console before she murmurs, “Are you ready for number four, now? You deserve it.”
I manage to contain my smile long enough to press another kiss against her plump, soft lips. Then she’s hopping out of my vehicle with enough energy and enthusiasm to assure me that I made a damn fine choice tonight.
Fuck me, I like this woman.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, locking the doors as I make my way toward her. I press my hand against the small of her back and guide her toward the front of the building. There are a half a dozen food trucks lined up along the sidewalk. “Figured we could grab a quick bite before we went in.”
“That sounds good. Are you in the mood for anything?”
“We’ll check them all out and then decide. I’m in no hurry.”
Smiling up at me, she murmurs, “Me neither.”
We only make it to the second truck before Sigourney turns and gives me those fucking green eyes, her message not only clear, but also unbelievably adorable. I applaud her choice, the menu at The Colorado Pig Rig truck worth the stop. She orders the green chili pork tacos and I get the Miss Piggy, adding a serving of Pig Rig’s tater tots for us to share. We sit at a table set up just beyond the truck, and she talks about the food here versus the food she misses from home. I insist that she hasn’t been out enough, reminding her she’s only lived here a month. She agrees, and then makes jokes about how her boss forces her to work too much.
Talking to her is easy, and she makes me laugh. Even joking about work doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable or like we shouldn’t be here like this, together. I’m not worried about us putting the state of our professional relationship at risk. It doesn’t feel like it is. Being with her is just fun—and I can’t remember the last time a woman was able to hold my attention for this long without taking off her clothes.
“You ready to head inside?” I ask as I gather her trash and pile it on top of mine.
Tilting her head to the side, she replies, “That’s a rhetorical question, right?”
Fuck—I like this woman, probably more than I should.
Definitely more than I should.
And as for the consequences? I have not a single fuck left to give.
WHEN WE WALK inside, Dane buys our admission tickets, and we’re each given a necklace full of pretzels. It makes me laugh and think of Ellery. This sort of thing would have her rolling her eyes, but I already can’t wait to get home and tell her about tonight. Dane and I have only been out for an hour, and the words I said to him earlier still ring true—this is the greatest idea for a date.
The venue is crowded, vendors forming an aisle in the grand room, each tent a different brewery handing out samples. I’ve never been to something like this before, and I’m impressed that there are so many local breweries. At the very far end of the room, there’s a stage where a live band is playing, and the vibe of the entire event is incredible.
“How do you want to play this, babe? We won’t be able to hit every tent, as I have to drive, and I’m betting you’ve never gotten drunk at this altitude before.”
I tilt my head to the side, thinking back on my last girl’s night with Ava. I only had the one glass of wine. When she offered me another, I couldn’t take it. At the time, I hadn’t thought about the altitude. Now, it makes all the sense in the world.
“You’re right.” I pause, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by our choices. “Well, how about we do just the ones you’ve never tried before. That way, we’ll both be trying new ones.”
“Solid plan. I’ll lead the way.”
A zing of tingles rushes up my arm when he reaches for my hand and starts walking through the masses. The smile that pulls at my lips feels bashful, and I can’t help but to give his fingers a squeeze. I like the way my hand feels swallowed up by his. More than that, I appreciate how assertive he is. It shouldn’t surprise me, given what I know about him, but it does. There’s something about his affection that makes him seem less guarded—like maybe he’s letting me in a little.
We spend the next hour waiting in line, tasting different beers, and eating the pretzels from around our necks. After we’ve been to all the tents that are new to the both of us, he insists I should keep tasting until I feel ready to stop, so I do. It’s not long before I’m tipsy and on my way to drunk, but I’m having so much fun that I don’t want to leave. Besides, I’ve learned a new trick. If I look up at him just right, he’ll slide his hand around the side of my neck and kiss me. It’s totally addicting.
When I’m in need of yet another bathroom break, he’s a gentleman and walks me over, waiting patiently for me to return. I decide that’s another thing I like about him. He treats me like a lady. No—it’s more than that. He treats me like a lady with whom he enjoys spending his time. The feeling is definitely mutual, and I find myself hoping over and over again that this will not be our last date, but merely the first of many. Tonight, he’s not my boss. He’s just a man whose kisses I crave.
IT’S A FEW minutes after ten when Dane pulls into an empty parking stall in front of my apartment. He shuts off the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt but doesn’t make a move to get out. Much like our first late night at the office, I get the impression that he doesn’t wish for me to leave—so I don’t. Before we left the venue, I toppled over the tipsy line and fell into a drunken state, but I feel pretty cognizant of how I feel and what he might be feeling. So I simply unbuckle my seatbelt and turn toward him in my seat.
“Thank you for taking me out. This was really fun. Almost as fun as pizza and case files at the office.”
He peers at me through the darkness. The only light shining into the SUV comes from the lamps illuminating the lot. At first, he doesn’t speak, and I wonder if I’ve said something wrong. Then he leans toward me and whispers, “Come here. I think it’s time for thirteen.”
I do as he says, giggling as I press my lips to his. I lost count of our kisses a while ago, but it makes me happy to know that he’s still counting. The moment he sweeps his tongue across the seam of my mouth, seeking entrance, I’m no longer giggling. Rather, I’m trying desperately not to moan too loudly. He slips a hand around the side of my neck, pulling me close even as he leans closer. When I stroke my tongue over his, I can feel myself growing wet, his kiss turning me on like never before.
His hand slides down my neck and over my arm until he’s f
ound my waist. He grips me greedily, making me wish I wasn’t so far away, and I reach for the lapel of his sports coat to tell him as much. Then, before I know what’s happening, he pulls away from me with a grunt. I watch in confusion as he reaches for a button on the side of his chair.
“Get over here,” he demands as his seat slides back.
I’m sure that if I was sober, I’d hesitate. Luckily, that’s not my problem right now. I don’t care how ridiculous I look climbing over the center console. All I want is to be closer to him. The instant I straddle his lap, his hands are wrapped around the outside of my thighs, sliding up and around my ass. He pushes me down, and I whimper into his mouth at the feel of his erection pressing between my legs.
I lose track of time completely as we make-out like a couple of teenagers. I’m so hot and worked up, I know the windows must be starting to fog, but I don’t care. I never want him to stop kissing me. He’s so good with his mouth, it makes me wonder where else on my body he could make use of it. That thought leads to another, and then another, and I know that if I don’t stop now—I might not stop at all.
Another whimper spills from my lips as I force myself to pull away, pushing both of my palms against his chest. I can feel his racing heart, and I grow weak, leaning into him once more. Speaking into his mouth, I pant, “I want you. Right now, I want you—but I’m drunk, and you’re my boss, and this was only our first date, and I don’t sleep with men on the first date from fear of being labeled easy, and I don’t want you to think I’m easy—you think I’m intelligent, and I want you to keep thinking I’m intelligent, and I am—I really am, so I think—”
He shuts me up with a kiss I don’t have the will to deny. In fact, he pulls away before I’m ready, running his nose along the length of mine as he speaks. “Babe, I hear you. I won’t come in. Pretty sure my hard-on is all the proof you need that I want you, too; but that wasn’t in my plans for tonight, either.”
“Really?” I breathe, lifting my head enough to peer into his eyes.
“Really. Whatever this is, let’s not fuck with it. We can go slow.”
“God,” I moan, cupping my hands around his scruffy jaw. “Don’t say stuff like that—it’ll make me want to do the opposite,” I confess, initiating another kiss.
He chuckles into my mouth, his arms wrapping around me as he crushes my chest against his. For a moment, I wonder how on earth I’ll manage to force myself to get out of his lap. Luckily, he’s a man of his word. After we kiss for a few more minutes, he brings our make-out session to a close and opens his door, helping me out. He then reaches over to pick up my purse and hands it to me before escorting me inside.
I twist my locks free and push open the door, dropping my purse on the floor. Turning to face him one last time, I murmur, “Thanks again.”
“I’ll call you.”
“You will?” I ask, genuinely surprised. I mean, I work with the man. I see him practically every day.
“Yes, Sigourney, I will.” He bends slightly, as if he’s going to kiss me; except, before his lips touch mine, he smacks my ass, causing me to squeak in surprise. He grins, his chuckle reminding me that I’m still wet, and then orders, “Get inside. Lock up. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“’Kay,” I whisper, turning to do as I’m told. He watches me as I close the door. Before he’s out of sight, I tell him, “Have a good night.”
I hear it when he starts to walk away—not a second before he hears me slide the deadbolt home—and I practically swoon. Immediately reaching down for my purse, I search for my phone so that I can call Ellery. It’s Friday night, so I’m sure getting a hold of her will be totally hit or miss. She’s been so busy with work lately, it wouldn’t surprise me if she was still at the office; and with Pryce working his final shifts at the restaurant, she could also be out. When my call rings only twice before she picks up, my drunken state prevents me from being able to stifle my squeal of excitement.
“Mi bella! You answered!”
Speaking through a giggle, she says, “I got home fifteen seconds ago, I’ve got exactly twenty minutes to change and head back out for drinks at the restaurant with some of Pryce’s friends, and I haven’t heard your voice in too long—I thought I’d multitask.”
“Mmm, yes. You’re always so good at that.”
“And you sound like you’ve been drinking already. Ava?”
I bite my lip, my stomach clenching at the thought of Dane. Part of me is giddy beyond belief; but as the truth starts to fill my mouth, there’s another part of me that’s nervous about what Ellery might say when she finds out where I’ve been, who I’ve been with, and what we’ve been doing.
“Promise you won’t burst my bubble,” I demand on a whisper, slowly making my way toward the couch.
“Sticks? Why would I do that?”
“Just promise, okay?”
“Okay. I swear. Tell me,” she insists impatiently.
Throwing myself across the cushions of my loveseat, I prop my feet on my ottoman as I admit, “I went out on a date. And it was perfect—absolutely perfect.”
“What?! And you’re just now telling me? Who did you go out with? I didn’t even know there were any prospects.”
“Actually…it was Dane.”
“Dane? Dane your boss, Dane? Dane your boss, whom you’ve seen half naked?”
A laugh bubbles out of me as I nod. Then, remembering she can’t see me, I reply, “Yeah. I know I said I wasn’t going to even let my mind go there, but it’s totally there. And he’s not just hot and successful and brilliant, Elle—he’s also a phenomenal kisser.” Smacking my hand over my eyes, I giggle some more and confess, “I may have told him that I wanted to have sex with him, but that I wasn’t a first-date-lay kind of girl, and he was a total gentleman about it. He told me we could take it slow.”
“Oh, my god—what the hell did I miss?” she gasps.
“Please,” I whisper, dropping my hand away from my eyes while furrowing my brow at her tone. “You promised.”
“Sally, I’m not looking to pop your bubble. I swear. I know you. Regardless of what I think, I know how you think. I won’t judge you or talk you out of whatever it is you’re doing. You’re a big girl. But now you have sixteen minutes to catch me up. Seriously—what did I miss? Better yet, what have you been keeping from me?”
“Should I start from the beginning?” I ask, grinning with excitement.
“Duh! Oh, wait—red or purple?”
I close my eyes, imagining my sister standing in front of her closet. She’s always talking about my legs, but she’s not without her envious features. She’s a couple inches shorter than me with a body that can’t hold fat. While she claims sweets go straight to her ass, it’s mostly just wishful thinking. Rather, she’s lithe and twiggy. Yet, regardless of my acceptance of the nickname Sticks, she hates when I call her Twigs.
Considering the occasion, along with her gorgeous head full of thick, shoulder length, dark blonde hair, I declare, “Blue—that really tight one. Wear it with your red stilettos.”
“It is a good night for a tight dress, isn’t it?” she asks. I can hear the smile in her voice, and it makes me miss her. Before I can start wallowing in the miles that separate us, she demands, “Okay. You’ve got fourteen minutes. Spill!”
Two Weeks Later…
I’M GOING OVER the finer points of a contract one of my clients asked me to look at when I hear her enter my office. I don’t bother looking up, almost at the end of the document as she crosses the room. She rounds the side of my desk and sets my coffee down, her scent making my chest swell as I inhale deeply. Taking note that I’m in the middle of something, she doesn’t linger—but I catch her around the wrist before she can walk more than two steps away from me.
For a second in time, I take a moment to appreciate the woman who’s almost got me wrapped around her finger. It’s amazing, really; almost incomprehensible. It’s not in the way she flaunts herself, because she’s not the type. It isn’t the way
she seduces me, as we haven’t taken things that far yet. Rather, it’s in the way she respects me. No. It’s not that simple.
It’s in the way she understands me—or what little of me she’s come to understand—and the respect that comes with said knowledge.
She’s not trying to change me. She’s not trying to take advantage of our attraction to one another. Here, in the office, where she is Sigourney and I am Dane Croft, she doesn’t consider herself anymore special today than she was before we fogged up the windows of the Benz. Here, in the office, where she is my secretary and I am her boss, the dynamic of our relationship has not changed. Our first date was almost two weeks ago, and yet our boundaries are so firmly intact, it only makes me appreciate her more.
Not only that, it’s in the way she respects herself. I don’t think she has any idea how turned on I get watching her work her ass off. If anything, since the Monday following our trip to the brew fest, she’s been working harder—arriving earlier, staying later, and not merely because I’m here. I would be able to see right through that. I have seen right through that—which is how I’m always sure of the women in the office my father is fucking.
She waits patiently as I finish what I’m doing, and I shove it aside as soon as I’m done. Pushing my chair back, I shift so that I’m facing her directly and then tug her down into my lap.
She comes willingly, circling her arms around my shoulders as she breathes an exasperated laugh. With the tip of her nose touching the tip of mine, she whispers, “Why do I feel like a cliché right now?”
Scowling at her playfully, I jerk my head back and ask, “Are you implying that you’d rather I not kiss you this morning?”
“No,” she insists, leaning into me, her breasts pressing against my chest. “Never that.”
“Good.” I mumble the word into her mouth, my tongue following shortly after. She opens up for me, like she always does, and I try to keep from getting carried away.
