Trent’s sneakers squeaked when he vaulted over the hood of the Fastback and landed by the front tire, a few pieces of loose gravel skittering as he straightened. “I am not getting any younger,” he mused, putting a hand to his back like some oldie.
“Well, I think you’re sexy as hell,” I said, stepping up so close that the toes of our sneakers knocked.
“Yeah?” he asked, his voice low and rumbly. Sexy as hell.
I nodded. “Uh-huh.”
Gaze darkening, he slid his hands into my open leather jacket to palm the sides of my waist. The battle the sun put up for summer lost the second it dipped below the horizon, and autumn stole the night, leaves rustling against the moody backdrop of darkness and filling the air with its sharp bite.
“Kiss me like you mean it.”
I didn’t have to, but I pushed onto my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck, my elbows bending at how close I pushed. Instead of going in for the kiss immediately, I glanced up to the sky and dragged my chin across his lips, tickling them with my scruff.
He groaned deep in his throat, and I smiled, doing it again because this man was such a sucker for my beard and I loved riling him up. The pads of my fingers grazed the back of his jaw, and his warm breath whispered across my skin.
“Mask,” he warned in that sexy-as-fuck tone.
The second I lowered my chin, he was on me, lips like Velcro affixing themselves to mine and gripping like they would never let go. I melted against him, loving the way his muscles locked up to support mine while his tongue did a thorough search of my mouth.
There wasn’t a place inside me this man hadn’t found, but he was never complacent, always searching, always willing to take on more.
I loved him so intensely some days it felt like my heart beat just for him. It didn’t matter how much love I gave to everyone else. I always had more because the reason my heart knew love at all was him.
His hands slipped around to the small of my back, pulling me closer, and I rubbed against him, the scent of his familiar cologne mixing with the leather of my jacket and?—
Beeeeeeeep!
Our lips popped apart when I jolted back, the air slapping against my damp lips and making me shiver.
“I got you,” Trent murmured, not even shaken by the loud interruption.
“Get a room!” someone yelled.
Trent stuck his arm in the air, his middle finger on clear display as his free hand palmed the back of my head and pulled me back in.
The warmth of his lips made me sigh, and I kissed him again while he held the rest of the world at bay.
When he was done, he pulled back slowly, dropping two final kisses before lifting his head. Mind fuzzy, I blinked as the sounds and scents of night came back.
“How about those fries?”
The urge to snuggle into his chest and beg to be held was right there on my tongue, the craving suddenly stronger than fries. But this was date night, so I held out my hand and let him lead me inside.
You know what I’d learned since waking up from a coma?
Since my life was irrevocably changed and I became a husband and a father?
Giving up control to someone else once in a while didn’t make me weak like I thought it would for so long. It was just the opposite. It made me stronger.
The radio was playing oldies, and it competed with the busy line cook flipping burgers and chopping hashbrowns while the dishwasher clinked dishes and tossed silverware around.
A few booths were full and there were people at the counter eating pie, but Trent didn’t let go of my hand, just walked confidently toward the back of the bullet, our arms stretching between us as I followed.
When we got to the booth in the back, he smiled and picked up a piece of wide-ruled notebook paper with the wordreservedscrawled across in black pen.
“Thanks, Ernie!” Trent called, waving the paper toward the counter.
I had no idea if that was even the guy’s name or if it came with the place when he bought it, but we always called him that and he always answered. Today, his answer was a whistle followed by laughter.
