So when we step out into the night and pause on the sidewalk in a silent precursor to that moment where we both awkwardly prod to see how much further the other person wants to take this, I don’t even hesitate. I don’t want to just break the touch-barrier, I’m gonna barrel right through it.
I grab the back of his neck and pull him down to me. The kiss starts gentle and slow—a thank you, a question, a suggestion. His lips are soft against mine, though there’s a rough patch of stubble under his bottom lip that drags sinfully against my delicate skin. He tastes a little spicy from our meal. I don’t know if that’s what gets me going, or if it’s a reminder of just how amazing that date was, but it lights a spark in me.
I step into him, opening for the kiss and stretching my body so I can wrap my arms around his neck, and his response is instant. Fusing his mouth to mine, his body curls around me as he finds my waist and grips me hard enough to send a little zing to my pussy at the force. His body is so firm and warm through hisshirt. I hug him tighter so the world doesn’t slip away around me, and one of his hands comes up to cradle the back of my head, threading into my hair. I gasp into his mouth at the slight tug—the smallest show of force, driven by a desire too desperate to be polite. I suddenly want to tear his clothes off with my teeth like some kind of animal.
Someone wolf whistles, reminding us we’re out in public. We pull apart, but we’re still both so locked in that neither of us bothers to look for the catcaller.
“Whoa,” I breathe, panting a little.
His eyes are wide, too. In the dim light of the streetlamps, his pupils have almost taken over the green-gray of his irises. “Whoa,” he agrees.
Swallowing, he releases my hips. I unwind my arms from around his body, shivering a little when the slow drop from my tiptoes drags our bodies against each other for a few painfully short inches.
“I’ll walk you back. I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he swears.
I grin. “Dios,I hope that’s not true,” I say, sliding my hand up his chest because I just can’t seem to help myself.
“How close do you live?” he rasps.
The urgency in his demand makes my nipples prickle.So close. A bed is only a few blocks away if we can make it that far. Though if we can’t, I won’t be too mad. I’ve never fucked in an alley…
I’m so turned on and ready to go, I can barely believe it when what comes out of my mouth is, “Too close for a first date.”
It’s not that I’m a prude—fucking obviously—or that I think dating ought to be some kind of game where the woman withholds sex. Honestly, I’m not sure what’s holding me back—maybe that he’s almosttooperfect. Maybe that I actually want to know him better and I’m afraid that having sex might change that somehow…
This is new territory. I wasn’t expecting tolikehim so much.
I start to pull away. He groans in sexual frustration, covering my hand with his much larger, warmer one and stilling my retreat. “Fuck. I…” he runs his free hand through his hair, disheveling it. “Christ, all I want to do is try to convince you to change your mind, but that makes me feel like a tosser. All right. You said no. I can respect that. Just…”
I don’t even have time to be completely fucking charmed by that because, in a blink, he sweeps me back into his arms. This time, he holds my face. I love how delicate it makes me feel, and how warm his palm is against my skin. It’s like being cradled, especially when the side of his thumb caresses softly over my cheekbone. He holds me still and brushes his lips so gently across mine that I try to lean in. I moan softly when I can’t.
He pulls back, staring down at me intensely. My need is a hollow ache, and he’sright hereoffering to fill it. What kind of stupid idiot turns down an offer like that? I’m kicking myself.
“Text me?” I ask, sounding just as bereft and eager as I feel.
He laughs. “I’ll text you.”
10
Wesley
I’m… compromised.
I follow her home because I’ll be damned if I let her make the five-block walk alone. Unguarded. Looking like that? Fuck no.
After I confirm that she’s safely inside her building, I trot back to where I parked my bike. The ride to the van—parked a few miles away in an abandoned strip mall across from a garage—is short, but Madison has already changed into pajamas by the time I get my screens up. As I settle in, I turn over the events of the evening with a half-smile I can’t seem to wipe away. And the night isn’t over yet.
I had to be very careful when I slipped the sedative into her drink. I’m partial to a bit of sleight of hand, but if anyone had caught me, it would not have ended well. Difficult to explain. But I managed, and the carefully calibrated dose should be just enough to lull her into a very peaceful sleep in about an hour. She’ll be deeply under when I break in to clone her phone and sneak onto her computer. And then, once I have what I need, I’ll take it back to the house and sift through Madison Cooper’s private life and discuss with my team whether or not we’re taking the hit…
Dread and disappointment curl together and sit heavily in the center of my chest—which, obviously, is the wrong fucking response. She’s atarget. Always has been. But deep down I think I knew from the moment I saw her that Madison was going to be a big problem for me. Our date only confirmed it.
Physically, she’s exactly what I like in a woman. But she’s not just beautiful; she’s also confident and funny and witty. She’s quick, she doesn’t back down, she knows what she wants, and if you step out of line, she’ll knock you right back into the place whereshedecides you go. She made me work for it; she made mewant towork for it. Flirting with her felt so much like verbally sparring with my mermaid, I didn’t want the date to end.
And that kiss? I was half hard on the street as she sauntered away. Still am.
I lean back in my seat and shut my eyes, squeezing my thigh as the familiar fantasy crops up. In my mind, it’s always mermaidav—whoever she is. The one woman I can’t have. She kneels before me, half under my desk, face partly obscured by some randomly generated hair. Sometimes it’s blonde, or red, or something more eye-catching and unnatural, like purple.
This time, mermaidav is wearing Madison’s face. This time in the fantasy, her hair is thick and dark with green streaks as I wind it around my hand. I’ve barely been able to get the sounds of her sweet moans out of my mind—and now that I know how she feels in my arms, how her soft curves press into me, how she tastes…
