Page 45 of A Really Bad Idea

He leans down and kisses my cheek.

It’s chaste, except for the way his lips linger longer than usual and then glide down to the space just below my ear, making me shiver.

His hands grip me tighter, pulling me into him, his hard body up against mine. My breasts tingle with need as they brush up against his chest, and my core rages like wildfire.

That kiss is followed by a series of light, open-mouthed kisses down the side of my neck, making me mold into him in a pile of goo, and back up to that sweet spot of my jaw.

My eyes are closed, and my lips are parted as he releases me. He didn’t even touch my lips, and that was, without a doubt, the best first kiss to end all first kisses.

When I open them, it’s to a satisfied Christian.

“I’m not ashamed, Meadow. I don’t care if you scream it from the rooftops that we’re going to have a baby.” He brushes my hair that is being blown about by the wind and pins it to the sides of my head with his hands. “I don’t think it’ll feel real for you unless you tell someone, so here’s what I propose. We each tell one person. Are you okay with that?”

I nod. It’s hard not to when he makes everything sound like the best idea in the world. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“No. That would be you.” He takes my hands and holds them in between us.

I chuckle into the wind. “Smooth.”

“Tonight has been the best date I have ever been on. And I once took a woman to Aspen.”

“On a date?” I ask, my eyes wide in disbelief. “How did I not know this?”

He steps down from the bench, his hands still holding on to mine. “You don’t know everything about me. She was a masseuse from Greenwich, and I had a forum to attend. It made for a relaxing weekend.”

I step down and fall against his chest. “Looks like you have stories to tell.”

He laughs as he brings my hands to his lips and kisses the inside of my palms. While the action is intimate, it feels right. “It now feels wrong to tell my tales of past relationships with you.”

I stop and pull him back toward me, making sure he understands fully. “Christian, I don’t ever want you to stop telling me your stories. I love knowing everything about you.”

He grins. “Then, I’ll never stop.”

We continue our walk. When we reach the end of the span, I turn around to walk back toward Brooklyn where we were dropped off, but he pulls me back and points toward our SUV idling on a far corner of Park Row in front of City Hall.

“You think of everything, don’t you?” I tease as we cross the street.

“You have no idea.” He holds the door open for me, and I sit inside, moving over so that he can climb in and not have to get in from the street side.

When he takes his seat, he reaches again for my hand. I lay my head on the seat back and look at our conjoined hands, tracing small circles on the skin with the other. He looks back at me with those emerald eyes, and I find myself mesmerized. Not only has he promised to fulfill my ultimate dream, but he’s also taking care to do it in the most loving way. Tonight, although unnecessary, was perfect.

We pull up to my building, and he’s instantly out his door and around to mine. I step out and feel those butterflies from earlier dance as he walks me up to my building’s door. He said he wanted three dates until we slept with each other, but he’s said nothing about kissing, and after what he did earlier with my neck, I can only imagine what his French kisses will be like.

My heart speeds up, and my body sings with desire. I try to stifle its song, but I can’t. The melody is simmering low in my belly.

I stop at my front door and look up into his handsome face. “Would you like to come up?”

“No, I have to be at the hospital in the morning.” He leans forward and I gasp, my breath halting as he lays a hand on my hip and leans in ever so slowly. “Is it crazy to say, I can’t wait for our second date?”

“What happens on the second date?” I say with a swallow.

“Our first kiss,” he breathes.

My body is a mix of anticipation and disappointment as he places the sweetest peck on the corner of my mouth. It’s barely a whisper. A soft, hot whisper that makes my body scream in anticipation.

My lashes flutter as he steps away and backs up toward the car. “You surprise me, Christian Gallagher.”

He smiles. “Is that a good thing?”