"You," she said, stepping forward with the audacity of a black cat, poking him in the chest. "You are the reason I forgot that danger could be lurking for me out here." She poked him again and he stood his ground as he looked down to where her finger was pressing into his chest. "You show up here with a nonchalant date and a nonchalant woman who, by the way, looks like she could star in a Jane Austen movie."
He looked back at her, confusion on his face. "Is that a good thing?"
"It is a very good thing! She's absolutely lovely! And you're kind and interesting and actually funny, where most guys are moderately funny and we mostly laugh out of trained obligation or insecurity." Her finger then poked his belly, which was frustratingly taut, "You actually make me laugh."
His large hand caught her finger. "Would you stop poking me? And you're yelling nice things with an angry voice and it's very confusing," he said back, his own voice rising.
She scrunched up her nose, pulling her finger from his warm grasp and poked him one more time in the middle of his chest and glared at him.
A dare.
His eyes were bright pools, and she wondered how deep they were because as they were locked in a staring contest she feared she might drown.
"She is lovely but she is also nothing to me," he said, his voice gentled as his eyes roved her face.
"That's a horrible thing to say," she replied.
He took a step toward her and her hand dropped as she took one step back. Her heart was knocking against her ribs like a minuet, starting to triple its beat.
"Ask me why she's nothing to me," he said, his voice coming out softer, brushing against her and urging that minuet beat of her heart to pick up.
"Why?"
"Ask me," he repeated as he took another step and then another until she had to lift her chin to look up at him, her chest only inches from his.
She licked her lips and his eyes dipped to watch the action causing her breath to shutter out between her parted lips. She was hot again, and she might have feared another hot flash incident if she weren't so engrossed in this man's blue eyeslooking at her like she was this wild and beautiful creature he was trying to fathom.
"Why?" she finally asked, the word barely coming out as a solid word.
"Because I don't see anyone else. I hadn't seen anyone in too long, until you. From the moment you sat at my table at The Black Cat, I had no choice but to be captivated by you."
She swallowed thickly as his hand wrapped around the nape of her neck, the touch searing and somehow soothing. Its intimacy sending sensation throughout her entire body. "You come into town, this little force of wildness and frankly, a disturbing amount of emotional stability," the right side of his mouth pulled up as he shook his head. "You are odd and interesting and beautiful. And all I want is," he stopped, shaking his head again as his gold eyebrows pulled together.
"What?"
"You have to know."
"I try not to make assumptions," she whispered back.
He smiled wider, that dimple coming out. "Wise. But let me show you." And before she could react, he was pulling her up into him, a hand at her neck and the other on her hip as his mouth descended on hers, taking without pause and without agonizing question.
She melted. She was made of snow, and he scooped her up into his warm palms so that he could experience her.
Her mouth opened to his gentle prodding; it was slow and delicious and it was like sweet oranges and perfectly roasted marshmallows.
She stepped into him, her body fitting against his flawlessly and the answering gruff sound at the back of his throat and his pause made her pause.
A second ticked by.
Then another.
And then he crushed his mouth to hers in a taking that was on the other side of gentle. It was raw and earthy, primitive. The notes of smoked hickory took over, rolling around with sweet marshmallow and she hummed. He answered.
They were a bonfire, everywhere they touched scorched.
He maneuvered them and she followed, letting him pick her up in a flowing move, two dancers under the old antique street lamp until she felt something solid against her back. He pinned her, the feeling of her softness being molded between two strong forces pulling the smallest moan from her throat.
He answered.
