“Who knew gramps was so sexy?”
It’s late September and the night has gotten chilly. My arms hug my middle, and Drew’s arm is draped over my shoulder. But I want more. I want both arms to be around me and I want to taste him. So my devious mind goes to work, and I pretend to stumble on an imaginary something or other. It works beautifully. He reaches for me, hands on my hips, to stabilize me, and we stand facing each other. My arms circle his neck and he dips his head until our lips graze against each other’s. It’s not enough for me. I want more of Drew McKnight. I want all of Drew McKnight. But I’m not the most experienced so I let him lead.
He leans back and whispers, “Tell me this is okay.”
“It’s way more than okay.”
His mouth presses to mine, tentatively at first, testing the waters. His lips, which are soft yet firm, nip at mine, and then his tongue peeks out. He runs it along my bottom lip and I open my mouth. Suddenly, we’re kissing. Aggressively kissing. He pulls my body up against his, arms wrap tightly around me, his head slants, and the kiss deepens. He explores my mouth as his body presses fully against mine. I feel his hardness and strength through the thin fabric of my dress. My body becomes a live wire—goosebumps erupt from my neck to my ankles; my belly clenches; my nipples stiffen; and for the first time in my life, I get wet. From a kiss. Holy sexy hell.
We’re moving. Drew lifts me up and we’re moving as we kiss. I’m not sure where, and I don’t care, as long as he doesn’t stop kissing me. When my back hits something, we stop. Every time he takes a breath, he nips my lips, making me want more. Then one hand slides down to my hip and squeezes as he grasps me tighter, pressing me to his body. He jerks his mouth away from mine.
“Fuck. Cate. Catelyn. Cate, Cate, Cate.” A litany of Cates.
Then his mouth is back on mine for only a second and I moan in protest when he pulls away. The thought occurs to me that this is more than a mere kiss. My body tingles and my knees are weak. My fingers sink into his shoulders so I don’t crash to the sidewalk. This is something poems are written about and erotic novels are penned over. I am wet between my thighs and the only things he’s touched other than my face are my mouth and hip. Once more his lips find mine and passionately kiss me, tongue sliding against mine, turning my stomach into a knotted frenzy and making my head spin. This time when he stops, it takes me a second to collect myself.
“Come to my room with me. Please. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I swear. I just want to hold you. And stare at you. And wake up with you. And maybe I sound like some pussy whipped bitch, but I’m not ready to send you home.”
My brows must hit my hairline and I giggle. Only because I’m drunk—drunk on his kisses. I hate giggly girls, but the idea of him being a pussy whipped bitch makes me die laughing.
“Yes. Okay, I’ll come. But I won’t fuck you,” I blurt out.
“No. No fucking at all. Not one tiny little bit of fucking. I solemnly swear. Scout’s honor. God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”
This man is perfect. He’s like my dream guy. And to think I almost didn’t go out with him! I wasn’t looking for this but what a huge mistake that would’ve been. He links our hands and we walk back to his room. I hope this is real and not the alcohol making me feel this way. I stop for a second and pinch my arm.
“What’s wrong? Did a bug bite you?”
“No. I only wanted to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.” And in an instant, his arms wrap around me, his mouth hovering over mine.
“You’re not dreaming, Cate. This is the real deal.” And he kisses me again, stealing every bit of my air away. When he finally breaks the kiss off, I run my fingers over his lips.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why I didn’t jump at the chance to go out with you? What the hell was wrong with me?” Then I realize I’m sounding stupid and I’ve said the words out loud. I need to shut my mouth before I scare the poor man away.
“That’s why I had that goal, Cate.”
“I have a confession to make,” I say, as we start walking again.
“Yeah?”
“I tripped on purpose. I wanted an excuse to touch you.”
He stops, and faces me.
“Seriously?”