I ran a finger down her cheek. “Never gonna forget, Tal. Sweet for sweet.” I peeled her fingers back and placed the box on the nightstand. “Save them, don’t wanna rot your teeth.”
“Looking out for me.” She giggled and then pouted.
Those puckered lips were far too tempting to leave without a kiss. A little moan escaped from her mouth. Ah, screw the Hot Tamales. I could have devoured her. Instead, I circled to the other side of the king-sized bed and turned off the lights. Her eyes were already half closed.
“You don’t have to wear your dress pants to bed, you know. We made it this far and I trust you.”
We barely made it this far and the night wasn’t over.
“Trust me, no choice here.” One commando to another, she got me. An explanation of the boundaries to my cock was another story and I figured a layer of fabric was essential. This was so far from the way I envisioned tonight ending, but somehow any and all preconceptions I might have had were surpassed ten fold. I untucked the sheets and climbed into pure heaven, and not the twelve hundred thread count. Talia molded perfectly against me and hummed a little more Aerosmith as she dozed off. I, on the other hand, didn’t want to close my eyes and I sure as fuck didn’t want to fall asleep. I squeezed her tighter as I watched the slow rise and fall of her chest. I brushed away the loose blonde wisps from around her face and lightly kissed her eyes. I didn’t want to miss one thing. Never again. Even if it went against every motto I had ever lived by.
Chapter 9 Dating
So I had the simple fix. New weekend, new place. Fuck the ten states that separated us. No one said we had to date like everyone else: do dinner, and a movie, hold hands, and gaze into each other eyes. Nah, we weren’t everyone else. Never would be.
The first weekend we hiked the Grand Canyon and explored the spectacular Havasu Falls without another soul in sight. Vigorous, but romantic. The hundred foot plunge into the blue green waters were asking me to strip her bare. I tried and failed at getting her naked. My argument that the water temperature never deviated from seventy degrees all year long didn’t stand. That was what I got for attempting to woo in the winter. By the time we trekked back to the cozy warmth of our resort, we were no longer alone. Talia’s unexpected friend paid a visit. I couldn’t have cared less, that’s what towels were for, but she wasn’t as enthused. The only upside was her disclosure that she had an IUD that made her friend’s visits extremely short and infrequent. Sweet. Even sweeter was the conversation that followed. I never rode bareback. Ever. The risk wasn’t worth it, and to be brutally honest, I never got to know any of the women I was with well enough to trust them. Trust wasn’t an issue with Tal. I almost shot in my pants when she shared my sentiment.
“I trust you, Ash.” That was all that needed to be said. Eight thousand, six hundred forty minutes and counting.
Six days later, I made sure our weekend date was a little warmer and less rugged—Sonoma Valley, celebrating all things olives. Bring on the Martinis. We had a different type of olive in every damn glass. We got drunk, laughed our asses off, and stumbled to our room. We kissed, holy shit, did we kiss … until she incoherently mumbled about sharing something before she passed out. Cold. Luckily there was no hair holding required, but the only banging Tal experienced the next day was her head’s not-so-gentle reminder of her golden rule: Prosecco only, and in moderation. Wished she would’ve ‘shared’ that little detail sooner. Poor thing, I was a schmuck. Another hangover was not the gift I intended on giving her or us, for that matter. I loved kissing and touching every inch of her body, but damn, by the end of the weekend I could have dipped her pretty little ass in a martini and licked her dry. We were dating and taking things slow, I got that. And in my opinion we had done a fucking brilliant job at it. So at this point I was left with four words. So. Fucking. Over. Dating.
My turf this weekend. Tal took the red eye, but Lili insisted on picking her up to squeeze in their mani-pedi-soak-in-mud-rub-me-down naked day. And why did these spa days only involve women? I would have happily partaken in soaking and rubbing. Hell, I could have helped out. As much as I was jealous of sharing our limited time, I was psyched she was bonding with Lili and Sierra. And I had a shitload of stuff to catch up on at work anyway, or so was my excuse for why she was minutes from me and not within my grasp. I couldn’t complain, she fell back into my life and made me reevaluate everything I thought I was about. I wasn’t gonna lie, it still felt foreign.
Tonight was going to be a little more low-key, more normal. Dinner was at eight. My place. I was cooking.
“Ash, I can smell it through the door. Hurry, open up.” I grinned like an idiot at the sound of her voice. “I’m starved.”
Me too. For one thing only. She was a craving I had no intentions of ever satisfying.
“For what?” I swung the door open to a huge ass smile. Fuck me, if this was what came from a spa day—fucking live in a spa. I thought there was no way she could ever look more beautiful. I was wrong. My breath seized and I grabbed the top of the jamb to steady myself. She didn’t have one stitch of makeup on, yet the glow radiating off her skin was blinding. Her hair was blown pin straight and she was dressed in skinny jeans and a short black blazer over a tight white T-shirt straining against her tits. Her impeccable simplicity made it that much more seductive.
She poked my chest. “Hey, you. Miss me?” Without a moment of hesitation, she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me softly. Her silky lips against mine weren’t enough. I picked her clear off the ground and buried my head in her neck, inhaling the only scent that mattered.
“You didn’t answer my question, hungry for what?” I mumbled into her neck, licking and sucking back up to her lips.
“You,” she murmured against my mouth. Hell yeah. “But first food.” The sexual tension burst and I laughed out loud and squeezed her ass. She giggled.
“Tease.” I stole another kiss.
“Good things come to those who wait.” Her smile went a little crooked and she batted her lashes. The last month was filled with the hopes of this dream coming true. Hell, I might be able to shower at a normal heated temperature. She stepped around me and headed toward the kitchen. She peeked in the pot. The waft of steam went up into her face. She inhaled deeply and moaned. Top two sexiest things she has done thus far. And I was doing so well controlling my situation. I poured her a glass of Prosecco—not making that mistake again—and popped the top of my beer for distraction. “Better things come to those who feed me.” She spun around looking dead serious. I roared. “Ace, I’m serious. I soaked in mud and sucked on lemons all day. Look at me. I’m wasting away. And Sierra made me do Zumba too. What the hell is that?” she hissed. I laughed harder. “I love them both, I do, they’re great and I can’t wait to hang out with them again, but I’m not in my twenties anymore. Cucumbers on the eyes can only last so long before they get nibbled on.” I shook my head. She was too fucking much.
“Sounds like spa day was a blast, cheers.” I slid her glass across the counter and lifted my beer. I ignored her age reference, well, because it deserved to be ignored. No offense to Lili and Sierra, but Tal gave sexy new meaning at thirty-seven. There was something about the faint creases where her smile met her eyes that highlighted her sparkle and screamed life confidence, not to mention her killer body with a perfect distribution of firm and soft in all the right places. Our ‘dating’ gave me enough of a preview, but even without the unrestricted access, I was hoping to score tonight. Bottom line: thirty-seven trumped twenty-nine. And if Chase hadn’t practically declared Lili’s birthday a fucking national holiday I would’ve never known their ages. Age never mattered to me, still doesn’t. But for Tal, her September birthday made her the baby of the four of us, and while growing up, her life mission revolved around bitching about being last for everything. It was ironic how when you’re younger you would do anything to hit those crucial numbers, eighteen, twenty-one, but when you’re older—and you weren’t me—you wanted to slow it the fuck down. Finally I got it. Finally I wanted to fucking savor it too.