“Dogs and cats. Do you like them?” I pressed on regardless of the fact it made me sound like an idiot. I’d started down this road. I had to follow it to its fruition. Hopefully, though, it was less a road and more like a short lane.
“Will my answer affect whether or not you’ll come into the house to eat?” he asked back.
“No,” I answered then added a partial truth. “I’m coming in because I’m hungry.”
“Then cats, yeah, if they’re the friendly kind who don’t mind being pet and don’t act like they own you rather than the other way around. Dogs, yeah, without any conditions,” he finally answered.
“I’ve known a lot of friendly cats but I don’t know any who don’t act like they own you rather than the other way around,” I shared.
“Then cats, no,” he amended his answer and continued with his own question, “Baby, you wanna tell me why we’re standing outside talking about cats and dogs?”
I didn’t because a smarter conversation would be about birds and bees.
I didn’t share that.
Instead I said, “I’m thinking about getting one. A cat or a dog, I mean.”
“Is my answer a deal breaker?”
“In what sense?”
“In the sense that if I say no, I don’t like one or the other, you won’t come into the house and eat.”
“I already answered that.”
“Yeah, darlin’, but I said no to cats and you haven’t come into the house yet.”
“Oh, right,” I whispered.
I fell silent.
So did Chace.
He broke it.
“Faye, we’re still standing outside.”
That was when I blurted, “I was leaning toward a cat.”
After that was when Chace threw his head back and roared with laughter.
I liked it but still, I bit my lip.
When his eyes dipped down to me, he said through his waning laughter but he said it gently, “Baby, climb up the fuckin’ steps.”
I climbed up the effing steps.
I didn’t get to the top before Chace bent low and took my hand so the last two steps I did it hand and hand with his.
He started to guide me across the porch to the door and I spied two rocking chairs with a table between them.
White picket fence. Nothing but plains and ranches and mountains all around. It was darkening dusk so I couldn’t see but I already knew the views from his house would be astounding from every angle, the kind you would never get used to.
Those rocking chairs would be perfect to sit in and read for hours in the summer. Or sit next to Chace and do absolutely nothing and be happy doing it.
Somehow, this thought and how beautiful it was made me tug on his hand, turn slightly into him and go up on my toes.
His body gave a slight jerk as if he was surprised but he still stopped with me and bent his head as if he knew I wanted his ear.
Which I did.
Because, into it, I jumped the gun and let it all hang out.
“I brought clean panties and a toothbrush,” I whispered and held my breath, not moving, not even to breathe.
Chace didn’t move either. Not a muscle. I didn’t even sense him breathing.
Oh God. Oh frak. Oh God.
Then suddenly Chace moved and he did it to let go of my hand, bend low and I was flying through the air but doing it safe in his arms, one of them behind my knees, one of them around my waist.
I automatically curled an arm around his shoulders, tipped my head back and I did this last just in time for his mouth to take mine.
Holding me, he opened the storm door and carried me over the threshold kissing me.
So I guess I did it right.
*
A phone was ringing.
It wasn’t the first time. In fact, it was the third.
I heard it but I didn’t care. And I didn’t care the other two times either.
This was because I was on Chace’s bed, in Chace’s bedroom, with Chace’s mouth on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his hand down my pants and I was this close to coming.
This had happened fast, starting with the kiss Chace gave me while carrying me all the way to his bed. It was like the kiss he gave me before we went to The Rooster. Wild. Abandoned. Fiery. Exquisite.
Luscious.
But it was more luscious because he was doing it carrying me to his bed.
You couldn’t get more luscious than that.
He kept kissing me as he bent a bit, the light went on and he laid me on my back in his bed, immediately following me in.
I knew he wasn’t controlling this. Not even close. I knew this when his hands went up my shirt and I felt them for the first time, warm skin against skin.
I liked this so I reciprocated, tugging his shirt out of his jeans and my hands pushed inside.
But I liked what they encountered more. Oh my fraking Lord, I liked it a lot more. Hot, smooth, hard with lots of interesting planes and bunches and ridges to trail my fingertips over and discover.