“I wanted to.”
I wait until she sits, then step behind her and wake the computer. My pulse pounds loud in my ears as I pull up the file and hit play. The video opens on an overhead shot of two people walking down a sidewalk, their hands brushing, and their steps falling naturally into sync. No faces, only a date in motion. It cuts to a park as a small group gathers under the sun, talking and laughing. Another transition follows a couple pushing through double doors and into an event.
Nora goes still in the chair, her gaze never leaving the screen. “What is this?” she whispers.
“A promo video.” As she stares at the screen, unmoving, I’m suddenly worried it’s not good enough. “For OneDate. I asked my sisters and brothers-in-law… the SBL guys, some friends too. They helped me create various scenes of different reasons why someone might need a date.” The video keeps rolling. Wedding lights. A holiday party. Two people laughing as they pass a line of family members who look ready to interrogate them.
Nora’s breath catches. She turns slowly in the chair to look at me, eyes wide. “Oh my god. Miles… this is amazing.”
“Yeah? You like it?”
“This is—” Her voice wavers, and I hate that she’s the one getting emotional when I’m the one who should be sweating. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. And you did it without me asking.”
I glance down at her and smile. “It’s nothing?—”
She stands, the chair tipping back and smacking the floor with a thud. Her fingers fist the front of my shirt and tug me down, her mouth meeting mine. For half a second I freeze, stunned by the intensity of her mouth on mine, but then I kiss her back. Whatever she came here for fades into the background.
Her hand slips beneath the hem of my shirt, her cool fingers against my warm skin sends a shiver through me. She breaks the kiss. “Follow my lead.”
I nod, and she’s kissing me again. Her hands glide over my bare stomach, up my ribs, and to my back, pulling me closer. I stop holding myself back and do what she told me. My fingers trace the heat of her skin, and my mind shifts from cautious to hungry. She pulls away just long enough to lift her sweatshirt over her head, slow and deliberate, revealing pale pink lace and the soft curve of her breasts. And I forget how to breathe.
“You’re thinking too hard,” she murmurs.
“Only because I don’t want to mess this up.”
Her smile is slow. “You’re not.”
She takes my hand and slides it up her stomach, guiding me, showing me exactly where she wants it. Every small movement feels intentional. With her hand on mine, she slides it up and between the valley of her breasts. My pulse roars in my ears as my breath becomes uneven, caught between wanting to slow down and wanting everything at once.
I pull back just enough to meet her eyes. “Are you sure?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “I am.”
Something in me snaps. My other hand slides to the back of her neck, drawing her into me as our mouths collide in a hot, bruising kiss. She moans against me, and when my tongue presses at the seam of her lips, she opens without hesitation. Just like the beach.
My hand glides over the swell of her breast, my thumb brushing over her nipple once, then again. I still abruptly. “What’s that?”
“It’s a piercing.”
I blink. “Your nipples are pierced?”
“Yes.”
My voice drops. “Can I see?”
She slips her fingers into the cup of her bra and draws it down, revealing the small silver barbells against her skin.
“Can I touch it?”
She nods. “Yes.”
I run my thumb lightly over the peak, and her breath hitches.
“They’re sensitive,” she murmurs.
I do it again, slower this time, and her eyes flutter closed.
“Miles.”
