She leans across the counter, reach
es for my shirt, and pulls me close to her.
“I was thinking I wish you would fuck me or let your friend do it,” she says. Her lips are so close to mine I can smell her cherry lip gloss.
“What time do you get off work?” I ask.
“Eleven.”
“Meet me outside.”
“Fine.”
She releases me then and smiles. It’s a satisfied, smug, full-of-herself smile and I love it. My heart is racing a million beats per minute, but I love it.
What the hell just happened here?
Seriously, if this isn’t love, I don’t know what is. I’ve been with a few girls before, but none of them were anything like her. None of them were so forward, so blunt, so honest about what they wanted.
I can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen when she gets off work. Part of me thinks there’s no way in hell she’s serious, but there’s something mischievous in her eyes and I want to find out what.
We wait for our coffee in silence, then Jason and I take our drinks and leave.
“Um, so I guess you should take me back to my car,” he offers helpfully.
I just laugh.
“Yeah. I guess I should.”
***
I’m leaning against my car smoking when she comes out.
“Those are bad for you,” Bailey plucks the cigarette from my hand and tosses it to the ground. Before I can protest, she pushes me against the car and presses her lips to mine.
Oh, fuck yeah. It’s on.
For someone who’s being completely aggressive, she kisses me softly, almost tentatively. Suddenly, I get the feeling she doesn’t have a lot of sexual experience, but we’re going to change all of that.
I flip us so her back is against the car and I’m the one kissing her, and Bailey moans.
“Are you always this excitable, spitfire?” I ask.
She giggles. She fucking giggles in the middle of the kiss and it’s the best damn sound I’ve ever heard.
“You might say it’s been a crazy week,” she whispers, and I kiss her more.
Finally, I pull back and just look at her. She’s got light brown hair that falls past her shoulders and these bright, beautiful eyes that are practically glowing in the moonlight.
“Where should we go?” I ask her.
Bailey shrugs and looks around. The parking lot is deserted. It’s just the two of us and a couple of parking lot lamps.
“I live on base,” I tell her. “In the dorms,” I add with a cringe. It’s not my first choice, but it’s required until I get promoted. All the young single kids have to live in the dorms whether we like it or not.
“My apartment is close. Drive me?”
“Of course.”