“You were looking?”
“I was.” He chuckled. “Very nice, but also filthy.”
“Okay, so obviously my place. You cooked last time. I can pull something together for dinner. I could maybe do rice and chicken for Tank?”
“Yes to your place, absolutely no to your cooking.”
“Scared?”
“Terrified,” he said with an easy smile. “Pizza? I do need you to run by my house so I can pick up my car. Thunderstorms are in the forecast for tonight, and I don’t want you on dangerous roads alone in the dark, and it’s a weekend, so it’s hard to get a taxi to come out to the burbs. I’ll go home, feed Tank, and pickup a couple of pizzas. I just have to know what you’re in the mood for.”
Rylee turned her face as if she were checking her mirror. She absolutely didn’t want Dakota to see the lascivious glimmer that must be sparkling in her eyes.
What was she in the mood for?
Ever since they were rubbing thighs over two hundred yards, feeling the power of his body against hers, she knewexactlywhat she was in the mood for, and pretending otherwise only made the ache deeper. “Whatever looks good on the menu, I’m game. No pineapple or sardines, though, please.”
He held out his phone, the map app open, showing the route to his house, where she left him off.
At home, she had to do a quick run-through of the rooms because she wasn't company-ready like Dakota had been.
She jumped in the shower where she did a power prep, shaving and moisturizing, swiping on deodorant, throwing her hair up into what she hoped was a sophisticated messy bun before tugging on a pair of oversized sweatpants that hung low on her hips. For her top, Rylee chose a lacy bra and a little cami. Easy access, and hopefully the only invitation Dakota would need.
Then she lit a fire and dimmed the lights. “I just have to know what you’re in the mood for,” he’d said.
She was in the mood for everything.
She was in the mood to talk to him. And look at him. And touch him. All of it, all at once.
“Slow your damned motor,” Rylee whispered as she answered Dakota’s call.
“Hey, I found a place to parallel park down the street from your townhouse. Can you open the door and call Tank so he runs to you? You don’t want the smell of wet dog in your house.”
Rylee grabbed a towel from the guest bath. “Ready,” she called, leaning out the door.
Off in the distance, she saw Dakota open the back door, and with her call, Tank raced down the street and inside, where Rylee rubbed him dry while Dakota jogged in with the pizza protected by an extra-wide umbrella.
They decided on a picnic in front of the fire.
“Good?” he asked as she peeked into the boxes.
“Perfect.” But when she said, “I’m starving,” she was looking Dakota in the eye.
The blush. The smile. So damned cute.
Rylee, leaning back against a chair and crisscrossing her legs, lifted a slice to her mouth. “Thunderstorms set the stage for pillow talk.” Then she took the bite.
“Yeah?” Dakota settled against the chair, facing her. “I’m game.”
Tank lay on the cool slate in her foyer, where he’d been banished while they were eating.
“Why don’t we catch up on all the things we would already know about each other, if we were, say, two months into a dating relationship?”
“Interesting.” Dakota reached for a napkin and pulled a slice of pizza from the box.
“Isn’t it?” Rylee asked. “I’ll start. You were with special operations forces. Why did you choose to be a little-known Special Warfare Combatant-craft Crewman and not go for the SEAL Trident so you could have life-long bragging rights?”
“I don’t know. I wanted to be on a special forces team, and I’m not great at swimming in black water. I’d rather be sitting in a boat.”
