Problems at work? It’s no big deal; we can get it figured out.
My chocolate isn’t setting right, and I have to start over because subpar product isn’t an option? No problem, it’ll be smoother the second time around.
I swear my thoughts are so damn sweet that I’m kind of sick of living in my own head. I’m not the kind of person to get swept away by extended eye contact and attention. Or maybe I just told myself that because it meant not missing those things. Or craving them.
This positive outlook on life started after my date which wasn’t really, apparently, a date. It was nice. It was easy. It was simple. It felt right.
And it scares the hell out of me.
Because I’m not used to things going smoothly. I’m used to having to claw and fight for every inch and proving myself the entire time. I’m used to working harder and longer to get half as far. It’s been the way of my life for so long now that I’m not sure what I would do if it were different.
I wouldn’t trust it, that’s for sure. Which is why I’m wary when it comes to Joss.
Another woman, one whose trust can be easily won or bought, would jump in with both feet, and never look back. I’ve learned that is the worst thing to do when trying to avoid being hurt.
I’ve had enough disappointment in my life. I’m not interested in learning the same lesson twice.
And then after our casual, informal, unofficial date, Joss followed me back to my house. When I tried to argue with him about it and insisted, “You don’t need to do that. I can get home all on my own.”
He reached out then and caressed my cheek with the back of his knuckles. The soft look on his face almost had me believing I was special.
“Please,” he murmured, “let me do this. If I don’t follow you and ensure you get home safely, I won’t be able to relax. I’ll be worried about it the rest of the night. Then I’ll agonize over whether I should call you or not. Let me do this,” he was so insistent and earnest.
There was no way I was ever going to be able to refuse him.
When I pulled into my driveway, Joss was there at my door before I even realized it. He opened it and offered me his hand. That electric storm struck again as I slipped my hand into his and he helped me out.
I offered him a small smile and squeaked, “Thank you for dinner. It was just what I needed after today.”
“Anytime, Sugar,” his voice was rough and it felt like he was holding back. “Do you need help getting things inside?” He nodded toward my car as he asked the question, but I was already shaking my head.
“No, I’ve got this,” I assured him.
He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push either. I was grateful for it because I needed some time and space to process everything. Like how easily the conversation between us came. Like how I didn’t feel as if I needed to be overly aware of my words and mannerisms. Like he wasn’t judging me or thinking I was too much or not enough. Like I could just be me.
His large hands came up and cupped my face. I wanted to squirm at the contact, while also shrinking away from him. I’ve always found my face to be exceptionally and overly round. Chubby cheeks is how some would describe me if they’re being kind. I didn’t want him touching me there.
But I couldn’t move out of his hold when I looked up into his brown eyes to find lust swirling with forever in his gaze. He whispered, “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” I breathed out.
And then his lips were pressed against mine. Something sparked to life in the middle of my chest at the contact and I gasped in surprise. Joss took full advantage of the opportunity and slipped his tongue between my lips.
The kiss was soft and measured with a hint of playfulness and the type of abandon I had only dreamed about previously. My entire being sunk into the kiss and got lost. I never wanted it to end, but then he pulled away slowly.
Even though I could see the conflict in his eyes, he kissed my forehead, bid me goodnight, and walked away. I wanted him to stay. But I didn’t stop him.
And now I’m waiting for him to pick me up for our first date-date. In my heart, though, I’ll always consider the other night as our first date. Even if all we have is two, it’s more than I had before I met Joss.
When he shows up, on time—I was just neurotic and got ready very early—I’m practically bouncing up and down on my toes and minutes away from crawling out of my skin. The anticipation is too much. It’s a feeling I would usually dread and avoid, but this feels different. It doesn’t feel as dangerous somehow. Maybe because it’s him?
Joss’s dark eyes sweep down my body and then back up. He looks at me with lust written all over his face. It’s not something I’m used to at all, but I can see myself becoming addicted to his reaction. It makes me feel powerful.
And gorgeous.
I’m not normally someone who feels gorgeous. I have a lot of amazing qualities, but I’ve never considered beauty to be one of them. With Joss looking at me the way he is, I may just have to reconsider.
“You look stunning,” Joss rumbles the words and there is a swirl and twirl in my gut. It’s a strange sensation, but I like it.
