His words make me smile stupidly at my phone. I roll over, tuck my phone beneath my pillow and close my eyes.
Chapter 16
The rest of the week passes in a blur.
James keeps me busy at work, but not as busy as before, and I can’t decide if I’m grateful or frustrated by the reprieve. We don’t talk about what happened in his office, but the tension is there. He watches me, and I watch him back, waiting to see if he’ll make another move.
I still haven’t figured out what he wants from me.
Maybe he hasn’t either.
By the time Saturday comes, I’m excited to focus all of my attention on Nash and our date. We meet in front of a small art house theater on the other side of town.
It was our safest choice, presumably far from the usual haunts of anyone we might know at the office.
“Hey,” he says, leaning in for a quick, casual kiss that sends a shiver through me.
For a moment, I stand there, feeling giddy and unsure of what to do with my hands, which he solves by taking one in his and leading me inside.
The lobby smells like popcorn and old carpet, and there’s a small crowd of hipsters and college students. I feel a rush of relief. The anonymity makes it easier to breathe, to let myself be in this moment with him.
We buy tickets, and Nash insists on buying snacks, his arms full of various candy as we make our way into the dim theater.
We find seats at the very back, far from an older couple and a pair of teenagers. The velvet seats creak as we sit down, and Nash passes me a box of Milk Duds.
“So, an indie film? Let me guess, you bring girls here to make them think you’re deep and intellectual?”
“You’re the only girl I’ve brought here, Avery. And no, I didn’t bring you here so you’d think I was an intellectual. I brought you here because I knew the theater would be mostly empty and dark.”
“That sounds ominous.”
He grins and lifts the armrest between us, placing his hand on my thigh furthest from him, pulling my body flush against his. I can feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt, and he smells good enough to lick. I relax against him, resting my head on his shoulder as the movie starts.
As the film plays on, I remove my gaze from the screen to watch the light dance across his face. It feels good being here with him. He turns suddenly, catching me staring, and grins.
“You’re not even watching the movie.”
“Maybe I’m not here for the movie,” I say, running my fingers teasingly along his chest, tracing the defined lines of his pectoral muscles, letting them drift down to the ripples of his stomach, and stopping just above the waistband of his pants.
I press my lips against his neck, eliciting a soft sigh.
He shifts in his seat, slackening just enough for me to slide my hand beneath the hem of his shirt and splay my fingers over his lower stomach. My hand slides lower, palming his erection over the top of his clothes.
“Avery,” he whispers.
It almost sounds like a warning, but I know he won’t stop me.
“Shhh,” I whisper back, undoing the button and zipper of his pants.
He shifts beneath my touch, and I know the exact moment he stops caring about the movie.
Pulling him out of his boxers, I stroke him slowly. His breath hitches, and I feel his hand find the back of my neck, dragging me toward his mouth.
We kiss, and it feels like fire.
Like we’re teenagers, reckless, groping in the dark.
I move my hand faster, letting the thrill of the moment take over. His hips lift slightly from the seat, and I break our kiss, moving my head towards his lap.
