“That’s why it’s the best.”
He shakes his head. “That’s why it’s gross.”
I draw back as if slapped. “Do not tell me, you don’t like pineapples,” I say with mock indignation.
“Okay.” A sly smile spreads across his face. “I won’t tell you I don’t like pineapples.”
“That’s it.” I throw a hand in the air and turn so my body’s angled more toward his, and if my leg happens to press more firmly against his in the process, who’s to say it was intentional? “I’m sorry, Ryan, but I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”
“No?” He angles his body to mirror mine. The warm spicy scent of his cologne fills my nostrils, and that’s when it hits mehow close we are. Way closer than friends would sit. My skin is buzzing. My fingers itch to reach out and touch him.
“At least tell me you’re not one of those crazy people who hates chocolate because that is just wrong on so many levels.”
He chuckles. “Oh, hell no! Those people are freaks. I mean, how can someone not like chocolate?”
“Whew,” I dramatically wipe my brow. “I was worried there for a minute.”
“Though, I have to be honest, I’m more of a dark chocolate kind of guy,” Ryan says, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
Holy shit. I think I’ve stopped breathing. Is it hot in here? I stifle the urge to fan myself. “Okay,” I say, my voice a breathy whisper. “We can be friends again.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.”
I shrug and glance down to where his hand rests on his thigh beside mine. He held my hand the other night. I can almost feel it. His rough, warm skin enveloping mine. I wonder what he’d do if I reached out right now and ran a fingertip across his knuckles. Would he pull away? When I look up again, I find him watching me. His eyes search my face as if he’s taking stock of every freckle. When his gaze finds mine again, I hear his breath catch, and that’s when I know…
He wouldn’t pull away.
“I should probably warn you,” I say. “I have very strong opinions when it comes to chocolate.”
“Alright, lay it on me,” Ryan says, giving me another one of his beautiful smiles.
After we finished our burgers, Emma and Stella talked the others into walking to the ice cream shop a few blocks down. While they all ran ahead, acting like a bunch of preschoolers, Ryan and I hung back to talk. He is sweet and funny and so damn hot. The more we talk, the more I like him. I keep racking my brain for a way to get him alone because I really need to kiss him—like my ovaries might mutiny if I don’t get my freak on with this guy like right the fuck now. But my options, up to this point, have been mostly limited to dark alleys and stinky dumpsters, so my ovaries are probably going to have to wait.
“So,” I begin, clasping my hands behind my back and rotating my torso in a way I know makes my boobs stick out.
Hey, a girl’s got to use all the tools in her arsenal.
“In my opinion, there are really only three acceptable brands of dark chocolate.” I hold up my fingers to count them off. “Lindt, Godiva, and Ghirardelli, in that order. Milk chocolate is allowable only in emergencies or when paired with peanut butter in a Reese’s cup. Oh, and Hershey’s is bottom-of-the-barrel trash and unacceptable for human consumption or even canine consumption.”
Ryan taps his perfect bottom lip. “I think dogs are allergic to chocolate so that’s probably a no-go, regardless.”
“Alright,” I say, feeling pretty on top of my game at the moment. “A man who knows his dogs and chocolate.” I give him a flirty smirk. “I approve.”
He smiles and ducks his head, almost shyly—which is quite the dichotomy for a tough-looking guy covered in tattoos. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye then back down again.
Wait. Holy shit. Am I making him nervous? I, ordinary little Charlotte Hayes, am making this sexy, badass guy nervous? Talk about a heady feeling. I almost want to grab him and kiss him right here and now just to keep him off balance.
We reach the shop and I wish we didn’t have to go in with the others, but though I am an accomplished flirt, I am a complete wuss when it comes to making the first move, or really any move for that matter. I reach for the handle, but Ryan’s hand wraps around mine, stopping me. All thought flies out of my head at the feeling of his big hand enveloping mine. I sense, rather than see him draw closer, the electricity running between us as palpable as his warm skin against mine. I release the doorknob but his grip on my hand only gets tighter as if he’s afraid I’ll pull away. There’s a gravity around him drawing me in, and I don’t even realize I’ve moved closer until his hot breath ruffles the tendrils of hair sweeping my forehead. I tip my head to look up at him, meeting those beautiful blue eyes. The intensity of his gaze steals my breath away. He leans down, slowly as if waiting for permission, and my entire body hums like a struck tuning fork in anticipation.
His lips brush mine, soft as silk, and it’s like someone set off fireworks in my chest. I gasp and he plunges his tongue between my parted lips. The first stroke of his tongue against mine turns my legs to jelly. As if sensing my battle with gravity, Ryan’s hand slips around my waist, holding me upright, while the splayed fingers of his other hand press into my back, crushing me against his hard chest. I let out a soft moan, and he responds by pressing me tighter against his body and deepening our kiss. I run my hands up his chest and around his neck, reveling in the feel of his toned chest and broad shoulders. There’s no awkward fumbling of a first kiss, here. We are completely in sync, our lips and tongues dipping and stroking and releasing as if we’ve been kissing forever. It’s so perfect. He’s so perfect. I never want this to end. I don’t care that we’re standing in the doorway of the ice cream shop or that our friends and any passersby can see us. All I care about right now is the way he’s kissing me—both tender and firm and so fucking intense it makes my toes curl.
With a gentle nip to my lower lip, he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine. Chests heaving, we remain like that for a while, holding each other, neither of us willing to move or speak for fear of breaking the spell.
Finally, Ryan says, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”
I huff out a laugh. “Me too.”
He gives me a bright toothy smile and leans in for another kiss when a bang on the window behind me makes us both jump.
