He smiles. “What are your favorite types of books to read?”
“It would be a tossup between fantasy and rom-coms. I love disappearing into a new world and experiencing things that don’t exist. I also love romantic comedies, where funny things happen to bring a couple closer together.” I ask, “What are your favorite types of movies?”
“Comedies first then action movies, and occasionally I like to watch sci-fi, depending on what the movie is about.”
“What is your favorite movie of all time?’
“Die Hard.”
“Such a guy.” I roll my eyes, and he chuckles, taking a sip of his beer while leaning back in his seat. I take a sip of wine, amazed at how relaxed I feel. This morning, I was a nervous wreck even thinking about going out with him. But now, I feel surprisingly at ease, even with the constant flutter of butterflies in the pit of my stomach.
“What are you thinking about?”
“This is easier than I thought it would be,” I say truthfully, and he tips his head to the side questioningly. “It probably hasn’t slipped your notice that you make me nervous, but I’m not tempted to run away, or fumbling around knocking over glasses and tripping over my own feet.”
“If you run or if you fall, I’d catch you,” he says, holding my gaze, and my heart begins to pound while my blood warms, making my cheeks hot. “I love it when you blush,” he adds quietly.
“It’s annoying.” I duck my head and fiddle with my napkin on my lap.
Warm fingers touch my cheek and I look up. “It’s adorable and refreshing.”
“Why?”
“It shows that you’re worried about what I might think and are interested in me enough to care. Most people try to hide how they feel; that way, if things don’t work out like they want, the person responsible for hurting them doesn’t know they ever had the power to hurt them. You can’t hide how you feel. Your emotions are written on your skin.”
“I think you just proved why my blushing is annoying,” I say, and he smiles.
“You can think that, but just know I feel differently about the cute way your cheeks get pink,” he tells me, smoothing his thumb over my warm skin, and I lean into his touch. “You should know I’m just as interested as you are.”
“Ahem.” Simon clears his throat, and Gareth’s eyes locked on mine fill with frustration before he looks up at him standing at edge of our table. “Sorry to interrupt.” He places a plate of fried tomatoes between us then bows and backs away quickly, looking nervously at Gareth, and I almost laugh.
“I wonder if that’s what it’s like for royalty?” I muse, spearing one of the fried green tomatoes and placing it on my plate.
“If it is, that’s probably why they always look so pissed,” he answers, and I giggle.
We talk about random things as we devour our appetizer, and when our meals arrive, we pick food off each other’s plate without permission. Once we finish, we agree to share the chocolate molten lava cake and vanilla bean ice cream for dessert.
“Oh my God,” I whisper as warm chocolate and cold ice cream meet my tongue.
“That good?” Gareth asks, and I look up at him, about to make a joke, but the look in his eyes is so hot I feel it sizzle against my skin, making my toes curl.
“It’s good,” I whisper with nothing else to say. He nods, not even lifting his spoon to take a bite. Instead, he lifts his chin to someone over my shoulder, and a moment later, Simon appears.
“Can we get the check?”
“Mack insisted your meal be on the house this evening,” Simon replies, and Gareth’s jaw ticks.
Reading his expression, I reach for his hand and he looks at me. “You can always leave a tip.”
“Are you finished?” he asks. Even though I wouldn’t mind having another bite of cake, the shortness of his tone tells me I shouldn’t, so I nod. “Let’s go.” He stands then offers me his hand to help me from my seat, and I take it. I turn to grab my bag from the table as he tosses two hundred-dollar bills down, and my eyes widen.
Feeling a little awkward about what’s happened the last couple of minutes, I look at Simon and smile. “Thank you.”
The older man pulls his eyes off the money waiting for him and grins at me. “Come back soon.”
I make a non-committal sound as warmth and pressure are applied to my lower back to lead me away. When we reach the parking lot and stop at the passenger door of his SUV, I look up at Gareth and break the silence. “I think a two-hundred-dollar tip was overkill.”
“That was our first date. If I couldn’t afford to take you there, I wouldn’t have.” The angry tone in his voice surprises me.
“Okay.” My brows draw together in confusion.
“I have two boys I’m raising on my own, and everyone who knows me knows that my ex walked out and left me with bills, a mortgage, and two boys to take care of.”
I shake my head, unsure of the point he’s trying to make. “And?”
“And I don’t like people feeling sorry for me,” he growls.
Realization slams against me, making my temper flare, and I turn to face him fully. “You think your friend Mack offered dinner on the house because he felt sorry for you?” I know my voice is full of disbelief. He doesn’t respond with more than a twitch of his jaw. “My dad owns a construction business; he’s always getting free stuff from the people he works for. It’s the way of the world. When you help someone, they want you to know they appreciate you, and if they are able to give you something to show it, they do.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it? Why? Because you’re a single father whose ex left him?” I laugh without humor. “Maybe instead of feeling thankful the next time I get a gift card from one of my students’ parents, I should be offended that they think I’m a poor teacher who can’t get a cup of coffee from Starbucks without their help.”
“Again, that’s different.”
“Is it, or is your ego so big that you can’t accept a gesture of gratitude without thinking someone is doing something for you, not out of kindness but pity?”
He looks away.
I sigh, wondering how we got to this point, when tonight was going so well. Feeling disappointed and frustrated, I turn to open the door.
“You’re right,” he says, surprising me, and I stop to look at him over my shoulder.
“About which part?”
“All of it. When my ex left, I had to depend on people to help me out, and it ate at me every time I had to ask someone for a favor.”
“You’re lucky you even had people you could lean on,” I reply quietly.
“You’re right.”
“I know I am.”
“Fuck,” he clips, tipping his head back toward the sky. “I shouldn’t have given that guy two hundred dollars.”
“You really shouldn’t have,” I agree, turning to face him.
“Especially after he kept fucking interrupting us.”
The statement erases the tension between us, and I throw my head back and laugh. Once I have myself under control, I wipe the tears from my face.
“He was our waiter. It was his job to deliver food and check on us.”
“He was annoying.” His fingers curl around the side of my neck and he dips his head toward mine. “Are we good?”
“I think so. Are you over being angry?”
“Yeah.” He brushes his lips across mine then uses his hold on me to tip my head farther to the side and deepens the kiss. When he pulls back, I’m panting for breath. “You ready to get home?”
I force my eyes open as my mind screams no.
“Yes.”
“Come on.” He keeps his hold on me and uses his free hand to open the door then, just like earlier, he lifts me off the ground with ease and places me on the seat. I smile down at him, tucking in my feet, and he smiles back before slamming the door closed. When he gets in behind the wheel, I buckle up, hating that our date is over but loving that it went as good as it did, even with the
bit of drama.
“In case I forget, you should know I had a great time,” I tell him as he backs out of the parking space, and looks over at me.
“Me too.” He reaches for my hand, and once he has it in his grasp, he kisses my fingertips then locks our hands together. He rests them on his hard thigh, keeping hold of me as he drives us across town.
When we reach my place, my nervousness once again kicks in as the energy between us zaps with an undercurrent of heat, making my skin tingle and my heart pound. Without a word, he gets out and comes around to help me down, and after my feet are firmly on solid ground, we walk hand in hand to my apartment. As soon as I have the door open, the heat between us is ignited, and whatever has been keeping us both in check is forgotten.
I’m not sure who kisses who first, but I memorize his taste as his tongue thrusts between my lips and moan as he slides his hands down my body then back up to slowly peel my dress off over my head. I help him out of his shirt with fumbling fingers, and when he’s free of the garment and it’s discarded on the floor with my dress, my palms skate across his warm, muscular skin. We stumble toward my bedroom, devouring each other at a frenzied pace, touching, nipping, gripping anything we can get our hands or mouths on.
When my back hits my bed and his warm body settles over mine, I whisper his name, and he kisses me before moving his warm mouth down the column of my throat to my breast. I arch into him and whimper when I feel the fabric of my lace bra between his warm, wet mouth and my skin. Reading my distress, he slides the material down then captures my nipple between his teeth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. I almost come from the contact and dig my nails into his back.
When he pulls away, we’re both panting with need and the desire between us is saturating the air. “Ember.” The look in his gaze is questioning.
“Gareth.” I raise my hips and wrap my legs around his waist in answer.
“Jesus.” He grinds his cock against my still covered pussy, and I shiver in need.
“Please don’t make me beg.” I dig my nails into his skin, and he slides his hands down my hips, dragging my panties off. The moment the material is gone his fingers slide over my clit, my inner muscles spasm.
“You never have to beg with me.” He kisses me once more then the sound of a condom being torn open rips through the silence, and seconds later, he fills me in one smooth stroke. I cry out in pain and pleasure. He’s huge, wide and long, and I feel every single inch of him branding my insides, making them his own. When he pulls back with just the tip of his cock resting against me, I lift my head and capture his lips while using the heels of my feet to bring him back into me. Every part of us is in sync as he fucks me into oblivion, and when I start to come, I know he’s capable of touching a piece of me I didn’t even know existed until him. “Oh, God.”
“Jesus. Give it to me. Let go,” he growls, thrusting harder and faster.
“Gareth,” I hiss his name, not sure I’m capable of handling what I feel coming.
“Let go, Ember. I’ve got you.” He moves his thumb to my clit, and that’s all it takes. My mind blanks and I feel nothing but the piercing pleasure of my orgasm as it radiates from my inner core outward to each cell in my body, lighting me up. As I let go, I disappear over the edge, panting for breath with my eyes closed, not wanting to miss out on one second of what I’m experiencing. “Fucking Christ, you’re perfection,” he rumbles, smoothing my hair away from my damp face. “I’m close, baby.”
I force my eyes open and stare up at him, mesmerized by how feral he looks with his head back and jaw tight. I lift my fingers to the side of his neck and his eyes open. The moment his focus is on me, I lift my head. “You’re beautiful.”
“Fuck,” he groans, tipping his head down to take my mouth in a kiss that leaves me shattered. His muscles bunch under my hands, his fingers dig into my flesh in a way that I know I’ll have bruises, and he growls down my throat as he comes. When he drags his mouth from mine, I gasp for air, and he tucks his face into the crook of my neck then rolls to his back, keeping me wrapped in his arms and holding our connection.
Exhausted, I rest my cheek against his chest and listen to the sound of his heart beating hard against my ear as his fingers begin to slide up and down my back.
“You going to sleep?” I hear and feel him ask, and I nod my cheek up and down against his skin. “Fuck, I hate that I can’t stay and sleep with you just like this.”
My stomach rolls as real life pops my euphoric bubble. How could I forget? How did I forget he’s not just a normal guy who can stay out all night without having plans in place to do so? How did I not remember he has two boys at home that he needs to get back to?
“It’s okay.” I start to lift up to move off him, but his arms tighten around me, holding me prisoner.
“I didn’t say I gotta go right now. I just hate I gotta go at all,” he says gently, gripping my chin to get my attention.
But I keep my eyes averted, not wanting him to see exactly how I feel about him having to leave. “I understand.”
“Yeah, then look at me.” I do, and when I see the torn look in his gaze, my chest grows tight. “I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t have to.” He slides a piece of hair behind my ear and shakes his head. “I’m a package deal, baby. If you get into this with me, you gotta know I come with two boys who are a priority.”
“I know you come with kids,” I whisper. “If I wasn’t okay with that, I wouldn’t have gone out with you tonight. I know you can’t sleep over and that you need to get home to them.”
“Yeah, but we have time before I gotta do that.” He lifts his head and looks around then frowns. “Where is your clock?”
“On my phone?”
“You don’t have an alarm clock?”
“I do; it’s also on my phone.” I smile.
“Smart ass.” He rolls me to my back and I lose my connection with him, which makes me mewl in disappointment. “You’ll get me back.” He smiles smugly, touching his mouth to mine. “Do you know where my pants are?”
“On the floor somewhere.”
He smiles then leans over me, crushing me to the mattress with his weight as he reaches down over the side of my bed. A moment later, he comes up with his pants and reaches into the pocket. Once he retrieves his phone, he clicks on the screen and I see it’s just after nine.
“Two hours.”
“What?” I struggle for breath, and he leans back, grinning at me, and then gathers me against his chest. He rolls us once more so I’m straddling his hips.
“After I get rid of this condom we have about two hours to do that again.”
“Oh,” I whisper, enchanted by his words, our new position, and the feel of him under me.
“Oh yeah.” He tangles his hand in my hair at the nape of my neck and drags my mouth down to his. For the next two hours, we don’t waste a moment talking. We spend each second exploring each other in the best possible ways, and when he kisses me goodnight at my door, I’m pretty sure I just had the best first date in the history of first dates.
Eight
December
I PULL OPEN the door to Jones’s, a small restaurant that is nestled between other businesses on Main Street, and am immediately bombarded by the chatter of talking patrons and the scent of breakfast foods coming from the open kitchen. I scan the small space and find my sisters along with my mom all seated in a booth near the window, drinking coffee and waiting for me to arrive.
I force my feet to take me forward, hoping no one can tell what happened last night just by looking at me. When I reach the table, Mom gets up to hug me, and when she lets me go, April nudges her elbow into May’s side, forcing her over so I can sit next to her.
“Sooo, how did it go?” April lets the first word drag on, and I tangle my fingers in my lap.
“Good.” I accept the cup of coffee my mom slides toward me and she winks. Crap, she totally knows what I did last night, the same way she knew everything I did when I was growing u
p.
“You didn’t call me until almost midnight, and then all you said was you were going to bed and would talk to me in the morning. So I’m guessing the date went better than good,” April states as I take a sip of coffee.
“Okay, it went better than good.” I sigh, wishing I woke up in time to get some caffeine into my system before I had to leave my place. Unfortunately, I slept through the three alarms I set in fifteen-minute increments and still pressed Snooze on the last one, which left me only minutes to get showered, dressed, and in my car to make it here.
“So,” June cuts in. “Did he bring you peonies?”
“I think you all already know he did,” I say, looking around the table and feeling overwhelmed when I see everyone waiting for me to elaborate.
“We knew he asked for your favorite flower, but we didn’t know if he’d actually buy them for you, since they aren’t exactly easy to come by,” July pipes up, looking happy.
“Where did he take you for dinner?” Mom asks, and I pull my eyes off my sister’s smiling face to look at her.
“Flame,” I reply, and Mom’s eyes widen with awe. “He knows the owner. We had dinner on the rooftop, which has been enclosed with glass, and were the only people there after the owner’s parents left.”
“Was the food good?” May asks, and I look around April at her.
“It was one of the best meals I’ve ever had.”
“Peonies and dinner at Flame,” Mom says, and I find her shaking her head. “He’s not messing around.”
“Can we please cut all this crap and get to the good stuff? What happened when he brought you home?” April asks, raising one brow.
My chest gets tight and my face warms. It’s one thing talking with my sisters about sex. It’s completely different with our mom present.
“April,” Mom scolds.
“What?”
“You know what. We talked about this.” Mom narrows her eyes in disapproval, and April shifts uncomfortably next to me.
“I see the last of you has arrived,” a waitress says, appearing suddenly at the side of our booth, and I couldn’t be more thankful for her interruption. “What can I get you ladies to eat?”
Until December Page 9
