The last date I was on happened at a little café on 9th Street. We drove separately. Endured an hour of stifled, forced conversation. Paid separately. Then went our separate ways. Even the drama major I dated took me on the most unimaginative, zero-effort style dates. Most of the time his idea of the perfect night together was binge-watching Game of Thrones while I sucked him off and he hastily returned the favor. Though I will say that one time we role-played Khal Drogo and Daenerys was kind of hot …
But still. It wasn’t a date. It never was with him.
This date is barely a couple of hours old and already it blows every other date I’ve ever been on completely out of the water.
“You’re quiet,” Talon says after another block. He squeezes my hand. “What are you thinking about?”
If I tell him, I’ll be showing my hand. I’ll be laying down all of my cards and giving him full advantage.
But what the hell.
Maybe Aunt Bette is right.
Maybe I should live a little.
“I’m just thinking … that I’m surprised at how easy it is to be with you,” I say.
I wait for him to say something since he’s always ready with the perfect thing to say at the perfect moment, but instead it happens so fast—my back against a brick building wall, his hands in my hair, his body pressed against mine, pinning me with his uncaged desire.
His mouth claims mine, but to be fair, I’m offering it on a freaking silver platter—his for the taking. He kisses me hard and soft, fast then slow, and through his jeans I feel the outline of his arousal. While part of me wants to resist, wants to put up a fight—the other part of me is deliciously powerless with his touch and loving every minute of it.
Someone passing behind him yells at us to get a room, but we ignore him.
“You drive me wild.” Talon’s lips curl into a smile against mine. “And I love every fucking minute of it.”
Chapter 16
Talon
We sit in my idling car in her aunt’s driveway just past midnight. I swear I blinked and the night was over. Now her hand rests reluctantly on the door handle and it’s time to walk her to the door.
“You have a good time tonight?” I ask. “Better than you expected?”
Her full mouth lifts into a sleepy smile, all the confirmation I need.
I climb out of the car and trek to the passenger side, but she’s already let herself out. I’ve never been big on the old-fashioned shit but I thought I needed to pull out all the stops tonight, take her on a date unlike any she’s ever been on.
Assuming, of course.
I have no idea what kinds of dates she’s been on. I only know that most guys won’t take the time to plan anything remotely memorable. It just so happened that my father’s namesake art exhibit fell on this weekend and I’m well aware of the fact that Irie’s interests align with that. It also just so happened that the owner of Ultra is a huge PVU Tigers fanatic and all I had to do was make a phone call and he found room for us on the guest list. I wanted our date to be as intimate as it was memorable, and taking her to any old bar wasn’t going to cut it.
Placing my hand on her lower back, I walk her to the door.
We stop on the front stoop of her aunt’s bungalow, under the soft glow of a single outside light. Her mouth is still swollen from that kiss we had against that building on 27th Street earlier and I can still taste her on my tongue.
What I wouldn’t give to take her home with me for the night.
But judging by the dreamy look in her eyes and the way her teeth bite into her ripe lower lip, I know it’s only a matter of time.
Reaching for her face, I graze my fingers along her jaw before coming in for a kiss.
I leave her with something tender this time. I don’t ravish her.
I need to leave her wanting more of me so when she finally caves it’ll have been worth the wait—for both of us.
“Goodnight, Irie.” I trail my fingertips down her arm.
“Goodnight,” she says, eyes bright in the moonlight as she watches me walk away.
By the time I get back to my car, she’s inside, and before I head back to my apartment, I check my phone for the first time in hours. It’d been going nuts earlier, vibrating every fucking five seconds, and finally I had to shut it off.
The instant I power it on, I find at least twenty-eight messages … mostly from my roommates, a few of the players, and a handful of acquaintances who are convinced we’re bros.