“So, a date, eh?” She couldn’t stop herself. It was like a giant elephant between them.
Why had he all of a sudden asked her out? He held her door open, and she leaped up into the cab.
He slammed his own door a few seconds later and turned on the truck. “It’s about time, don’t you think?”
She smiled, a sweet warmth settling into her belly and across her cheeks. They were on a date. “Yes.” She nodded. “It’s about time.”
As far as first dates went, this one was one of the better if not one of the best she’d ever had. Dinner was delicious. Gourmet handmade pasta in a decadent saffron and cream sauce with seafood, peppers and fennel. And then dessert—if she wasn’t already falling in love with the man, the dessert would have sealed the deal. A chocolate ganache tower with raspberry coulis and fresh raspberries, topped with Irish Cream whipped cream and gold leaf.
They chatted about life: baby-proofing, their upcoming prenatal classes and the next midwife appointment. Besides the first appointment, where he hadn’t even known he was a father yet, Brock had been at every one without fail.
The entire night was weird and wonderful, and she felt herself falling deeper and harder for the man the longer they sat there.
He was trying.
He said he was going to try to open up, and he was. She could tell it wasn’t easy for him to let his walls down, to answer her questions without deflecting them, but he tried, and the more he tried, the easier it became.
After dinner, they still had some time to kill before the movie, so they wandered into a grocery store to buy candy and popcorn to smuggle them in Krista’s purse and under her coat. She was already pregnant, so with the giant bag of M&M’s, she just looked like she was ready to pop.
They were snuggled up in the back of the theater, and Krista decided that what she wanted to do more than anything was rest her head on his shoulder. But she was nervous. And then she mentally chastised herself for being nervous.
You let the man do far dirtier things to you, but yet you’re nervous about putting your head on his shoulder? Well, that’s ass-backward.
She shifted closer to him, their arms sharing the armrest, and then slowly, almost timidly, she let her head fall to the side of his arm. He was warm, and the smell of him—leather and … Brock—it was perfect.
He glanced down at her, and at first, she thought he was going to shrug her off because he pulled his hand from the armrest where their wrists were touching. She had to lift her head, and a sudden flood of disappointment raged through her, but he lifted his arm up and wrapped it around her shoulder, pulling her close.
Ah.
Krista snuggled in and closed her eyes, letting her other hand rest on his chest.
The movie sucked. It was boring and corny and in places where they were trying to be funny, it was just plain awkward and uncomfortable. About halfway through, Krista found herself restless and frisky. The night was going so well and she was falling so hard that all she wanted to do was get home and get the man next to her naked. But then the wild child in her started to whisper things in her ear.
“This might be your last night out for a while. Make the most of it. The theater is practically empty. You’re all the way up at the back in the corner. You know what people do in the back corner. You’ll regret not taking a chance.”
She tried to tell the voice to shut up. That she was a cop, a respectable woman and a mother-to-be. But that bitch was loud. And the more she told her to be quiet, the louder she yelled. And before Krista knew it, her hand drifted down Brock’s belly and made its way into the front of his pants.
His free hand landed on hers. “What’s the plan?”
Sassily, she glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. “No plan, just bored.”
A huff of a laugh escaped his nose. “This is dangerous.” But then his hand lifted from hers, allowing her to continue her quest.
He was already starting to rise to the occasion.
“What’s life without a little excitement?” she asked with a feline purr, beginning to stroke him, reveling in the soft skin and the way he grew harder and harder in her palm. She got a serious high knowing she could rev his engine so easily.
“So, uh … should we just get out of here?” His tenor was a little shaky. Krista grinned. Men were so easy.
“Of course not. Let’s finish the movie. Just watch.”
His hand fell back on top of hers. “Krista … ”
But she was too into the moment, too into him, into the date, into the romance of the night, and instead of answering him, she lifted her chin and went in for a kiss. It started out sweet and innocent at first, the soft brushings of lips against lips, but soon it turned heated and frantic, driven by more than just the passion of the night. They were both geared up and ready for more. His mouth was firm and his tongue seeking. Brock Hart definitely knew how to kiss. She took him in, returning the kiss and wishing she could press her body against his, into his warmth and strength. Feel his power. When she was with Brock, everything feminine inside her rushed to the surface—soft and powerful all at once, sending a craving though her that almost hurt.
She rolled her neck to the side, and his teeth scraped up the tendon. He breathed her in, sucking on that sweet spot just behind her ear, the spot that drove her wild and brought out her inner beast.
She thought for sure he was going to scoop her up and whisk her away, tossing her into the back of his truck and ravishing her just to feed the craving until they got home. But instead, he wedged his hands into her pants and began to rub wet and rough circles around her clit.
