I thought it was an odd choice at first—until she informed me that it was trivia night. I can honestly say that I had an absolutely phenomenal time tonight. Sarah was hilarious and so fucking competitive. Her face would light up as soon as the questions popped on screen. I swear, at one point, she was pressing the button so hard that I thought she was going to break it. The best moment, though, was when she started cussing after someone buzzed in before she did. I haven’t heard words like that used since the high school locker room. She immediately looked embarrassed when she saw that I was watching her. But her cheeks really turned red when I informed her how much a love a woman with a dirty mouth. My tone might have made it a sexual innuendo, but she didn’t seem to care either way.
She’s right. We did destroy them. I’ve always been a bit of a history buff, so that paired with her brains about pop culture and science made us an unstoppable team.
"I have no idea how the hell you knew some of those answers. I think you might be overqualified for your receptionist position," I tease as we walk arm in arm to my car.
"Yes, but my vast knowledge of Mariah Carey and the latest in celebrity sex tape scandals isn’t exactly in high demand these days," she says, stopping me just before we reach my car. "Thanks for tonight." She loops her arms around my waist. "I haven’t smiled that much in a really long time."
"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing." I tuck a stray hair behind her ear as her smile nervously fades.
When she rakes her teeth over her bottom lip, my attention hones in on her mouth. Slowly, she rises to her tiptoes. While nothing about Sarah was exactly shy tonight, she always seems a bit nervous when it comes to affection. I’m not sure if she’s overthinking it or what, but as much as I want to rush her home and into my bed, I’m willing to let her have this move. I stand completely still as she presses her soft and timid lips to mine. The gentle touch ignites me.
God damn, I want this woman, but I’m not doing this in the middle of a parking lot. I quickly shove a hand into her hair, holding her firmly against my closed mouth. I don’t allow her to take the kiss any deeper, but that doesn’t mean I don’t kiss her with everything I have, breathing her in as if I will never feel her again.
When I’m able to drag myself away from her, I rush out like a caveman, "Home. Bed. Now."
"Okay. Yeah," she says shakily while smoothing down her hair.
I walk around the car and open her door, careful not to touch her again. I just need to get her home—and hopefully naked.
IT SEEMS that the kiss in the parking lot was exactly what Sarah needed to loosen up. It wasn’t a long ride back to my apartment, but, surprisingly, she held my hand the whole way. In moments when she would use her overly animated hand gestures while talking, she never truly released me. Instead, she very purposefully placed my hand on her thigh. I’ve never been so turned on by such a simple gesture—or grateful that the darkness cloaked the hard-on I was sporting most of the way.
"You want something to drink?" I ask as soon as we walk in.
"Nah, I’m good," she replies, eyeing me as I walk to the fridge and retrieve a beer for myself. "You’ve never asked me why I don’t drink. Why is that?" she asks curiously.
"I figure you’ll tell me when you want to," I say quickly.
But I know exactly why she doesn’t drink. There’s a lot I know about Sarah. However, those aren’t the parts I want to talk about tonight.
"What if I were a recovering alcoholic?" She walks over to the kitchen to stand directly in front of me. "You’ve never asked about drinking in front of me either."
I can tell by the twitch of her lips that she is just giving me a hard time, but the gleam in her eye exposes her insecurities. Insecurities I plan to put to rest.
"You agreed to meet me at a bar on our first date," I say simply while tipping the beer to my lips. "I’m assuming that, if you were a recovering alcoholic, you wouldn’t have chosen a sports bar tonight either."
"Oh, yeah. Probably not." She gives me a weak smile.
I place the beer down on the counter and grab her hips, sliding my hands down to splay across her ass for the very first time. Her eyes go wide, but she doesn’t back away. Instead, she casually rests her hands on my chest.
"Just so you know. If you were a recovering alcoholic, it wouldn’t bother me in the least." Leaning forward, I place a soft kiss to her lips. Then I slide my hands up her sides and guide each of her arms around my neck. "Because the fact that you no longer drink would mean that you have overcome it. It would mean that you struggled, just like we all do, and that you didn’t succumb. You would’ve had to fight to get where you are today, and that kind of strength should not ever be interpreted as a weakness. That kind of strength is a rare thing of beauty."