“I um, wow, I’m sorry … wow.” She was flushed with fuck me hair, stumbling over her words. So it wasn’t just me. She was adorable. I probably looked like a fool.
“I’m a lot of things right this second, but sorry isn’t one of them.” My head finally kicked back on. She laughed at my candor. I pressed my palm to her warm cheek and she kissed it.
“I didn’t mean to say that, I’m definitely not sorry either.” Phew. “I um, just thought we should maybe consider taking things a little bit slower.”
“I can do slower.” I can do anything you need.
“Besides, I wouldn’t want you to think I put out on the first date.” She wryly chuckled and played with the hem of her tank. “I told you I’m not that promiscuous high school girl with daddy issues anymore.”
I never saw her that way. “Psst, look at you all self-reflective. Was psych your back-up plan if the whole acne healer thing didn’t work out?” She hit me in the face with a throw pillow. We both laughed.
“You sarcastic ass, ha.” She rolled her eyes, but they radiated genuine affection. “More like a few dozen hours and few thousand dollars in therapy to point out the obvious. I was pissed at my dad for cheating on my mom, so I slutted it up for a summer.” Her facetious tone didn’t mask the disappointment in her eyes, a look that needed to be erased.
Hell, as far as I knew, I thought she only slept with two guys the summer before she left New York. Far from slut territory.
“Some friend you are. You were putting out back in the day and didn’t hook me up?” I caught the pillow mid-air this time and tickled her back on my lap. Her laugh sounded almost as sweet as her singing.
When I was sure I tickled the nonsense out of her, I showed some mercy and released.
“What am I going to do with you?” she challenged, winded from giggling. Her body laid draped over mine, and her head rested against the arm of the sofa. Her eyes sparkled something fierce.
“You’re going to date me.”
“Date? How old are we?”
“Old enough to know I was the moron not to ask you out when we were kids, so yeah, we’re going to date.” I brushed a stray hair off her face and she bit her lip. I wanted that job.
“I like bossy Ace.” She laced our fingers. I kissed them.
“As opposed to?”
“My perfect gentleman.” All I heard was my.
“Trust me when I say that I will always treat you with respect, Tal. Always. No promises I’m going to be a gentleman in the bedroom though.” I might have winked, but I was serious. Her eyes widened, she knew it. And undoubtedly she liked it. I leaned over and gently touched our lips together.
“So we’re officially dating then,” she whispered with genuine happiness behind her grin. Beautiful.
“Yup.”
Her fingers ran the pleats in my shirt. “You do realize we live three thousand miles apart?”
“I’ll get a bigger plane.” Her smile reached those damn eyes and she licked her lips. That combo was going to be the fucking death of me. Then she raised her head and kissed me. And I let her. But not for long, once her tongue sought entrance, I took over. We made out like horny teenagers for entirely too long. No doubt our mouths were going to be chapped tomorrow. Somehow I managed to keep my hands on her waist, but any and all conversation with my arousal was futile.
“You know this counts as the first date,” I murmured between kisses. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
She shifted back an inch, panting, and opened her eyes. I already had them pinned. “Oh, we’re on the same page.” Something about the way she said it stirred an unfamiliar tight sensation deep in my chest. This was seriously unchartered territory.
I sat us upright and kissed her forehead, not wanting to push my luck, especially after she got spooked earlier. I couldn’t blame her. We were risking a lifetime friendship. “Happy New Year, Tal, I have a gut feeling it’s going to be a good one.” Then I stood to get ready to leave. It was almost three AM.
Talia tucked her lean legs underneath her. Her voice was laced with promise when she said, “Do you know what I’d really like?” I put my jacket back down on the desk and turned to give her my full attention. Of course I wanted to know. “I’d really like to know what it feels like to wake up in your arms.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and almost looked embarrassed. “Well, without vomit in my hair this time.” She remembered.
Done. I toed off my shoes and undid my tie. She stayed put and clocked my every move. I unbuttoned my cuffs and then my shirt. Her eyebrows rose when I slipped it off, clearly enjoying the view. That once-over alone solidified I would never skip a workout.
With two strides back to the sofa, I held out my hand the way I did when we started the evening. “Time to sleep, Teeps … don’t get any ideas.” I smirked. “Sweet dreams only.”
She smiled and unfolded herself off the couch, steadying her rise with my hand. She released her grip almost immediately and traded it for a tight embrace. Barefoot and much shorter, her head nuzzled right into my shoulder. She was so small in comparison to me, soft, but not waify. Even though we were separated from skin on skin by her paper-thin tank, her tits felt amazing pressed against me. Suddenly I felt cheated by the night and not from my lack of release. “You owe me a slow dance.”
She squeezed tighter. “There’s no music.”
I wanted it that way. “Sing for me.” There were few things in this world I would beg for, hearing her sing again being one. She didn’t make me.
The vibration heated my chest before I heard her quietly humming. The sound was unmistakable. Perfectly controlled and smooth with a simple raspy rawness that was sexy as hell. Just like her. Our bodies swayed in unison, small movements, our feet never leaving the floor.
Then she started to sing, in a hushed tone, but I knew it instantly. Aerosmith. That was my girl. There was no point in hiding my hard-on, it wasn’t budging anytime soon, and I wasn’t wasting a second of holding her this close. I wasn’t missing another thing. She was perfect.
But before she finished the second verse, this moment was interrupted by her phone bouncing around the glass coffee table.
“Who’s calling you at three AM?” We both looked down at the table, Paul flashed on the screen.
“It’s midnight in California,” she responded. As if that answered the bigger question.
“Want to answer it?”
“No.” She wiggled her nose against my chin. “Since I know you’re a gentleman and won’t ask, Paul’s the um, douche—I think that’s what you called him—that I ended things with months ago, who still doesn’t get it. But he’s harmless. And since I’m technically on a date, probably the best first date of all time, by the way, no, I don’t want to answer it.”
Fan-fucking-tastic answer. My chest puffed out a little, a completely primal and involuntary response to male ego stroking. Honest.
“This gentleman is taking you to bed now.” I kissed her temple and led her into the bedroom. “Wait a sec. I do believe I just got to hear your sweet pipes...” She crawled under the fluffy white covers and waited for me to finish. I jogged back out to the living room and dug in my jacket pocket.
“I’d know that shake anywhere, Ace,” she yelled from the bedroom. I laughed. Totally addicted. I sat at the edge of the bed and put the box of Hot Tamales in her hand. “You are the best. God, I missed you.” She rested her head against the cushioned pillow. “You always had them for me, after every gig, every single time. You never forgot, not once. Thank you for that.” She looked a million miles away as she reminisced.