“I owe you a dance.” Boaz licked the spoon clean then stuck it to the end of his nose where it hung while he waggled his eyebrows at me. “There’s a new club on River Street. Interested?” He puckered up like an asphyxiating guppy and leaned close. “Or do you want to cut to the making-out part?”
“Knock it off.” Shoving him back, I took the spoon and set it on the table. “Goober.”
“I’ll have you know I’m at my peak sexiness after dessert, when your body can’t differentiate between the sugar rush and me.”
I covered a snort with the back of my hand. “Oh, I can tell the difference.”
I had meant the comment to be flip, but it came out too soft, and he heard the ache.
His voice gentled, probing for open wounds. “How?”
“The sugar rush fades,” I answered honestly.
“I’m going to kiss you now.” His left arm slid behind my shoulders, and he hauled me up against his side while his right hand cupped my cheek. “Trust me?”
All I could do was nod and twine my fingers in the fabric of his shirt to hold on for the ride.
This was actually happening. My first real kiss. With the boy of my dreams.
His lips brushed mine, a gentle pressure that had me chasing his mouth for more of the delicious taste of him—chocolate and man with a hint of trouble. He let me pursue him, a chuckle in his throat, until I retreated on a frustrated sigh.
I’d spent a lifetime chasing him. It was past time he returned the favor.
“Get back here.” With a growl in his throat, he stalked me, pressing me against the wall at my back, unwilling to break contact. The hand on my cheek roved down my neck, my shoulder, my arm and eased under the table where it palmed my hip and rolled me against him. A heartbeat later, he cursed into my mouth and yanked back his hand. “Damn rules.”
I laughed at his frustration, and he thrust his tongue between my lips to tangle with mine. He surrounded me—his scent, his taste, his warmth—and my head spun faster than a merry-go-round. I drank in his groan when I nipped his bottom lip, and grinned when he murmured my name in a guttural tone I had never heard from him. That I wished no one had but me.
“The owner asked me to toss some ice water on you,” our waitress said blandly. “Can you two behave or do I need to go back and grab my pitcher?”
Ignoring her, he kissed me once more, twice, before resting his forehead against mine. “Why haven’t we done this before?”
The answers were all too grim for a moment like this, so I kept thoughts of heartbreak, of Atramentous, of Volkov, locked away so as not to tarnish this perfect memory.
“It wasn’t a bad first kiss.” I patted his cheek, not about to stroke his ego, then turned to the waitress. “We can behave—”
Boaz threaded the fingers of his left hand through my hair and hauled my lips crashing back to his while his right stroked my hip, tracing the top edge of my panties through the fabric of my dress. Penned between him and the wall, a trap I did not mind falling into at all, I forgot how to breathe.
At least until ice-cold liquid splashed us in the face, and I gasped against the water plugging my nose.
“Worth it.” The devil was in his smile, and this time he didn’t apologize for breaking the rules. He looked like he was debating when he could do this all over again and wondering if I’d let him. “You were saying?”
“I was saying—” What had I been saying?
“That was all the warning you get.” The waitress hooked a thumb over her shoulder, indicating a wrinkled gentleman gazing at us with jolly eyes and a sly grin. “I do what the boss says, and he says it’s time you got a room, Boaz Pritchard.”
The use of his full name snagged his attention, and he eyed the woman. “Do I know you?”
“You knew my little sister for about ten minutes.” Her gaze swept down him, clearly not impressed. “If that.” Her smile turned mean. “Though you might remember me from the baseball bat I took to your bike when I found you passed out on top of her in the kitchen, we haven’t been formally introduced.”
“Dana Higgins,” he said without missing a beat, and I could tell the woman was stunned he remembered his exes’ names at all. “We met our freshman year.”
“Sweetheart,” she sighed in my direction, determined not to award him points for having that much decency. “He’s only going to break your heart.”
“Oh, he already has,” I assured her. “Smashed it, really.” He recoiled so hard from me, he bumped his head on the back of the booth. I reached up to rub away the sting, enjoying the bristly feel of his scalp against my palm before I ruffled the longer strands on top. “But you know what? He’s worth it.” I held her gaze. “I bet your sister said the same thing.”
All the girls who contracted Boazitis understood it was a lifelong condition with no cure. They might yell and cuss and rail at him, they might even hate him for not loving them back, but none of that mattered in the end. Boaz had only to crook his finger, and they would all come running back for seconds. I was terrified, having had my first real taste, that I would be the same.
“She never had a lick of sense.” The woman slapped our ticket down on the table. “Guess you don’t either.”
I used a few napkins to blot my face dry. “Guess not.”
Boaz paid, arguing that since he had asked me out, it was his job to cover the tab. I left the tip, and I was generous. It took guts to stand up for your sister, let alone for a total stranger you worried might be in over her head. Plus, knowing Boaz, he probably deserved the ice water.
The owner patted Boaz on the shoulder when we passed him on our way to the door. “Come back any time, son.” He hooted. “I haven’t seen Lisa that riled up in years. Just call ahead so I can pass out ponchos to the customers in advance. We’ll charge extra for folks who sit in the splash zone.”
“Looks like you made a new friend.” I chuckled under my breath. “I expected him to start yelling for an encore at any moment.”
Boaz kept walking, making his way toward Willie. “Yeah.”
“Hey.” I grabbed his arm. “You okay?”
“What happened in there doesn’t bother you?” His stricken expression made me wonder what distressed him most. That the waitress had called him out or that I’d had a front-row seat. “I deserve what I got. I’m not contesting that. But you didn’t.”
“It was only water. Our clothes will dry.” I raked my fingers through my damp hair. The humidity was having a field day with my not-exactly-curls. “Besides, how many girls can say their first kiss was so steamy a concerned bystander doused them with ice water?”
Boaz looked torn between his trademark cocky smile and a vulnerability that pierced my heart like a crooked arrow. “You’re not upset?”
“Why would l be?” I took his hand and led him to Willie. “I know you, Boaz. The good, the bad, the ugly.”
He didn’t say another word, just handed me my helmet and put on his.
I climbed on behind him, certain this would be the end of our night, but he surprised me by aiming for River Street. I was still deciding if dancing would restore his mood when the fine hairs lifted down my arms. I tipped back my head, following a hunch, and spotted Cletus fluttering above me.
Oddly reassured, I held Boaz tighter and let the night wash over me until he found us a parking spot.
Music poured out into the street, soft and inviting, but we didn’t head toward the club.
The pensive edge of his mood hadn’t lifted, but he put on a decent act. “May I have this dance?”
“Yes, you may.” I accepted the hand he offered and let him lead me into a waltz that fit the bluesy music about as well as our soggy attire would fly in a ballroom. I stumbled once or twice, well out of practice, but his steps were sure, and he made a fine partner. “I hope you didn’t need that toe.”
“Technically, there are no toes on that foot. Squish all you want.”
That somehow made me feel worse that my two left feet had decided to tag team his prosthetic foot.
“How are you still so good at this?” I asked through a spin that ended with my back trapped against his chest. “I’m as rusty as barn nails.”