We stood in the kitchen, the last of the day’s light still seeping in through the matte-glass panes of the arched windows. I studied his face, noting the tension in his jaw and the thin lines on his forehead. I thought he was going to kiss me again, but instead, he reluctantly stepped away.
“Want to make a few more and eat out in the backyard?”
Fifteen minutes later, we stepped out onto the grassy patio with full plates and cups of water in our hands. Some gardening had been done here as well. Long flower beds looked ready to sprout, and an ornate fountain stood in one of the corners, the sounds of the water filling the air around us.
Jamie placed his food on a small picnic table and grabbed a folded blanket from the bench beside it.
“It’s beautiful here,” I told him as he spread the blanket over the grass.
He looked back at me, smiling. “Let me turn on the lights.” The string lights that crossed above our heads flickered on and started emitting a warm orange glow.
“It’s kind of magical,” I said, turning in place to take everything in. “Did you do all of this yourself?”
He guided me to the blanket, and we sat down across from each other, his legs crossed, while I tucked mine under me. “Yeah. I spend a lot of time at home, so I wanted to make it comfortable. I’ve been doing a lot of gardening, too.”
The thought of Jamie digging at the flower beds with a tiny shovel was impossibly endearing, and I grinned at him. A flush crept up his cheeks, even as he tried to laugh it off. “I went from one extreme to the other, didn’t I? Crazy front man of a heavy metal band to a lonely domestic weirdo.”
Something moved inside my chest at his words. “There’s nothing wrong with being weird or domestic,” I said. “And you have me here, so you’re not alone.”
His eyes held that elusive warmth again as he nodded. “You’re right. You’re here.”
The realization that this evening meant something to him hit me in that very moment like a hundred-pound sledgehammer. My hands grew clammy in my lap. This wasn’t some casual hookup for him. He didn’tjustwant to fuck me. This was a man who had gone through a lot, and he was letting me into his world despite having no reason to trust me. He liked me, and, yes, he wanted me, but he was looking for more.
If I were a better person, I would excuse myself and tell him this was a bad idea, but as I watched him pop a piece of sushi into his mouth, I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to leave. This unexpected date was the most fun I’d had with someone of the opposite sex since that goddamn tour. In fact, I wasn’t totally sure that I’d hadfunon that tour. My feelings during those two weeks hadn’t been exactly joyful. They’d just been potent and pervasive and transcendent compared to anything I’d ever felt before then.
Jamie paused mid-chew and raised a brow at me, probably wondering why I hadn’t started to eat. I snapped out of my trance and picked up the chopsticks, but to my horror, my hands shook.
“Are you all right?” Jamie asked, concern laced through his voice.
I put the chopsticks down and reached for my glass of water instead. “Great.”
When I forced myself to look at him, he was frowning. “Ivy, I’m not expecting anything, in case that’s what you’re worried about. If you’ve changed your mind about me, I understand. I half expected you to run out of here by now.” He looked off to the side. “I’m not exactly a great catch at the moment, and I know our history is more than a little mes—”
I didn’t know if it was the guilt I felt or the fact that I was so fucking attracted to him, but I shoved the plates aside and climbed into his lap. He stopped talking mid-word, his mouth slightly parted as he gazed at me.
“I haven’t changed my mind,” I said. “But you seem intent on doing so. Why are you talking yourself down?”
He exhaled a long breath and moved his hands to rest on my thighs. “I haven’t been with anyone since rehab. A kind of self-imposed punishment, I suppose. For a long time, I didn’t feel like I had anything to offer to another person, and I didn’t want to risk hurting anyone else. Then you came along. I know I should’ve pushed you away last night, but I couldn’t. I can’t. So a part of me is still hoping you’ll change your mind.”
My heart hurt for him. However harsh I’d been with Jamie paled in comparison to how harsh he’d been with himself, and I wasn’t having it. Maybe he wanted more than a hookup, and maybe I didn’t, but I knew I wanted to show him that he didn’t need to punish himself anymore. “And the other part of you? What does it want?” I asked.
Tightening his grip on my legs, he glanced down my dress. “To tear this pretty dress off and make you tonight’s main course.”
I clutched his shoulders, savoring the hard edge of his voice. “You’re in luck.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because dinner is served.”
His eyes flashed with hunger, and then my back was against the grass, and he was spread above me, his wide, strong body hiding the stars and the sky from my sight. His lips met mine and moved with confident force. The soft, controlled Jamie was gone, and in his place was a man made savage with desire.
He pulled away, putting space between our chests so that he could unbutton the dozen or so buttons that ran down my front. His fingers kept working while he lifted his eyes to mine, and the primal need I saw in them made me gasp. I wanted him to look at me like that when he buried himself in me. I didn’t want him to be careful, or God forbid, change his mind about doing this. For once in my life, I wanted to desire and to be desired, and to bring that desire to an explosive fruition without any fear or doubt or restraint.
Swearing at the remaining buttons, he tugged the dress open, ripping the fabric. I didn’t care, didn’t give him a chance to apologize, although at this point, I think we were both way past apologies.
He hooked his fingers around the straps of the dress and my bra and pushed them down to my arms, leaving me exposed to the mild evening air. I loved the harsh breath he sucked in at the sight of my breasts. I loved the way he traced my nipples with both of his thumbs before tugging on them just enough for it to sting. I loved the sight of the massive bulge in his jeans, even as some part of me curled in fear of what it would feel like to have that pushed inside of me.
“What do you want?” he asked, his right hand cupping my breast while he dragged his left hand down my stomach to where the skirt of my dress hugged around my hips.
