“Chuck Norris or the new guy?” Not that it matters. I’m not the TV type. Or the Texas Ranger type.
“Norris?”Her brow cocks and she tilts her head. The light catches her just right, and it’s like she has a halo. I’m so backed up, I’m cockeyed. Literally.
“Nah.” I can’t even manage a word that’s more than a single syllable.
“New guy?”
“No.” And now I grin. She is the kind of woman who can make a manwantto grin. Hell, she’s the kind of woman who makes a man want to buy her a car. And I would bet if she tries, it’s a grin that won’t wipe away with a squeegee and a bottle of Windex.
“Okay.” She looks over her shoulder and this time I glance back with her and one of her friends waves. Belle spins around and I get another whiff of her as I wave back at her friend.
“Can I buy you a drink, Belle?” I’m usually a lot smoother with women, but this one has me off center.
“Actually, no. But I have to kiss you.” She frowns for a second then looks at me again, almost like she’s playing it this dilemma inside her head. It probably has something to do with her friends telling her to get my number and her asking for a kiss, instead. And thank fuck for it.
“Kiss me.” I don’t know for sure if this is my lame way of questioning her or if I’m doling out an order.
“It’s a double dog dare.”
“Uh-huh.” I nod. “Well, a double dog dare. That’s serious business.”
“Oh yeah.” She nods, and if she asked me to jump off a bridge with her right now, I’m kicking off my shoes and going all in.
But if I’m going to do this, this kiss is going to be double dog dare worthy. It’s going to be enough to talk her out of that skinny little skirt and keep her in the fuck-me shoes. It’s going to be–
She pulls me to my feet and her lips crash against mine all in one move. And it’s the best move I’ve ever benefited from. Her body presses against mine and her fingers curl in and out against my scalp. Then her tongue swirls around mine and my entire body catches fire.
“Holy hell.” It isn’t my voice and it isn’t hers and I don’t fucking care about whoever has dared speak. I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck. About anything other than this woman and this kiss.
Her cheek is soft and smooth under my thumb, her hair like satin in my fingers. My free hand is at the small of her back and I press her closer. This is the kind of kiss that a man thinks of when he’s kissing someone who can’t kiss. This is what he imagines. And my imagination has never done it justice.
And it’s over too soon. Not soon enough that if she steps back I won’t be sporting a very noticeable boner. And remarkably, I don’t care. All I care about is touching her. Holding her. Lowering my head and kissing her again. Over and over. All night long.
When she steps back, I feel like I’ve been gut punched and my only satisfaction in that second is the glaze over her eyes. But then it clears and the haze over my mind fades to nothing, and I miss the days when I smoked. I could use a smooth, Marlboro menthol right about now. Fuck. That was a kiss.
“I need your number.” I say the words softly because I’m afraid of exactly how much I need her number. When I look down, her hand is in mine and I don’t want to let go, don’t want to break the touch.
She nods at me. “Give me your phone.”
And now I have to let go or use my free hand to reach across to pull my hand from my opposite pocket. Shit.
But I release my grip because I’m not about to full fool in front of her, but I’m going to be damned disappointed if I can’t figure out how to hold her hand again.
I lay my phone in her extended palm, and she calls hers with it.”Now you have mine, and I have yours.” She’s holding my phone out facing me, and I take it, add her name to my contacts with the number I’ve already got memorized.
I’m sure my staring is creepy. I’m equally sure I can’t help it. I like looking at her. Would like to do a lot more of it.
“What’s the bride’s name and when’s the wedding?” It’s going to sound like a line, but I’m not kidding.
“Maisie. And a few weeks. Why?”
And I shoot her the girl-getter. It’s my signature, half-lidded, just the tip of my tongue poking between my teeth smile and it works better than booze. And that’s no exaggeration. This thing doesn’t fail. Mom says it’s because of the money she paid for braces and I’d better settle down and find a woman before the smile doesn’t work anymore or before the women who fall for my charms are too old for baby making. “I’m going to need to send her a gift.”
I’m not a love at first sight believer, but if I was….
Sap.
Oh, the laugh. My jeans are so tight right now and my dick is so hard that if the bar caught fire and there was an immediate evacuation, they would find 185 lbs of burned Walker in the rubble.
