We laughed probably more than ever before as we made spaghetti from scratch, and we joked the whole way through the lesson on the different sauces. It's a miracle this meal is remotely edible.
He seems to have thought of everything, right down to making sure that we sat at the same table as we did that night, not that where we ate would have made any kind of difference to me, but the thought was definitely there, and I appreciated it.
Conversation flowed so easily between us over dinner and before we knew it the place was getting ready to close and we were one of the last couples still seated and slowly sipping a glass of wine and talking like we have known each other our whole lives.
Tonight has been nothing short of magical compared to how things have been with Drew recently and as much as I want to try and find a reason to doubt his motives here, I just can’t. I can see that he's trying and what more can I ask for. Does that mean that I'm ready to just move back in with him and carry on as if nothing happened? Absolutely not.
I am nowhere near ready to just forgive and forget what happened, but I am willing to let him try and show me that things can and will be different moving forward.
When we leave the restaurant Drew rounds the car in front of me to open my door for me, making me arch a brow at him in question.
“What? I can be a gentleman.” He shrugs and closes the door behind me as I settle into the passenger seat of his car. Nerves hit me then, what is going to happen next, will he just drive me back to my car? Is he expecting I’ll just go home with him? My head snaps up and out of my thoughts as Drew slides in behind the wheel and starts up his Volvo.
Apparently he can tell that my nerves are dialed up to a hundred as he rests his hand on my knee squeezing gently.
"I'm just going to take you back to your car, Ryan. As much as I want to bring you back to our bed, you aren't ready for that. We aren't ready for that," he assures me with a soft tap on my leg before pulling away from the curb into the evening Denver traffic and heading back to Savage Ink and to my car.
Everything up to this point has been somewhat familiar and comfortable territory. Now, standing with my back pressed against my car, keys swinging from my fingers I can see Drew shifting from side to side. It’s like we’re not sure what to do or say. We are both acting like awkward teenagers. It's ridiculous.
“So, umm, thank you for tonight and the idea for the show. I think Gavin will go for it, and I was thinking the guys and I could maybe paint a mural or something at the shelter, get the kids involved, you know...” My words get cut off with his lips pressing to mine. I feel strong hands holding either side of my face as he kisses me. His lips are firm but soft, confident yet tentative all at the same time.
It's a wisp of a kiss, but my whole body lights up. I swear my heart is pounding out of my chest like a Looney Toon character. I'm breathless just from the contact of our lips. I feel Drew trembling before pulling back and resting his forehead against mine.
"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" he asks in a hoarse whisper as he blows out a breath, I'm guessing in an attempt to keep himself in check. There weren't even tongues involved in that kiss, but I feel just as affected by it as he looks, and if the steel rod in his jeans I can feel rubbing against my own is any indication, I'm right. Our foreheads are still connected as we both look down between us at the visual representation of how attracted we are to each other.
“Was I talking? Really?” I can’t think about anything else other than his lips on mine. He wants to continue our conversation. Fuck that. I want to continue that kiss.
Drew has other ideas. Stepping away from me, his lips slightly lift at the side, making me clench my jaw as I try to suppress a groan.
“Have a good night, Ryan. Drive safe. I need you all in one piece for our next date.” His grin is wider now, taking over his face before he turns and walks back to his car.
Oh no, you don’t.I go after him, stopping him before he can open the car door. Spinning him around, I crash our mouths together, walking his body back until I feel him leaning against the side of his car.
His groan is deep and guttural as he responds immediately by sliding his hand into my hair, taking control of the kiss like I knew he would. Fuck yes, I missed this.
Opening for him without hesitation, our tongues fight for dominance, each of us wanting to taste every inch of the other's mouth. My hands drop to his hips as I press my lower body against his. Our cocks connect, and even through the heavy denim of my jeans, the friction sends tingles to the base of my spine, and I moan like this is a scene in a bad porno.
Again, he pulls away. “I want you to know,” he starts, as he once again leans his forehead against mine, his hands gripping tight to the denim at my hips as he pants to catch his breath before continuing.
“I don’t want to stop, fuck I really dont want to stop.”
“But?” I ask with a laugh. My breathing is not much better than his right now.
"But, we shouldn't get too ahead of ourselves. I want you to see, really see, how much you mean to me, and a quicky in the back of my car isn't going to show you that."
“Ughhhh,” I groan, knowing he’s right. “Thank you for tonight. It was…” I don’t know how to say what I’m feeling.
“Yeah, it was, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon,” he leans and whispers his last words into my ear, “Pretty boy.” I visibly shiver at the term as he opens his door and enters the car.
I'm still standing there long after he drives away. To say I'm stunned is the understatement of the year. I look sideways, realizing that the life around me is still going on. Cars are passing by, and people are chatting happily among themselves as they walk down the street, like the world hasn't been flipped upside down.
I finally turn around and head to my car, reliving the events of the night. How I want to believe this could always be like that. Is it possible?
I drive on autopilot. Thank God the traffic is low because I'm so distracted by the battle that's waging in my mind. I probably shouldn't have gone after him and kissed him like that. I should have just said goodbye and held on to what little dignity I have left.
A week ago, I walked away from Drew, determined that it was over and that I wasn't going to be lured back with pretty words from him. My mind was set, and the decision was made. Yet after just one date, I'm mauling him in the street, and I can't seem to stop fucking smiling about it. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Wow,” Nyx says as I step through the door, not bothering to get up from her seat in front of the TV, a blanket draped around her knees and a bowl of ice cream empty in her lap.
