Her mouth opened, the words coming without conscious direction from her brain. “I’ll keep an open mind. I promise.”
*
Ty had never spent more than half an hour getting ready for a date. Even his pre-prom prep (shower, change into suit) had taken less than twenty minutes. He hadn’t stressed about what tie to wear or whether Annabelle would think his jokes were funny. He hadn’t even bothered making dinner reservations.
This time around, he couldn’t stop thinking about their date. He’d tried to chill at Joe’s Java with his morning coffee, but he kept seeing girls with Annabelle’s hair or eyes or that same subtle sway in the hips. Watching the waves at Ocean Beach made him think about the walk he and Annabelle had taken along the water after prom. He’d tried to check his email, but found himself on the web, researching restaurants, bars, and clubs to find a place Annabelle might like.
He’d waited impatiently for seven PM, and even now that he was climbing the stairs to her apartment, time was still moving too damn slow. He cursed his bum leg. He didn’t usually mind the leisurely pace—at least he still had all his limbs—but tonight, he needed to see Annabelle.
She pulled open the door before he could knock. “You didn’t tell me where we were going, so I didn’t know what to wear.”
He took in her outfit—a top with straps so thin he could rip them off in a single tug, jeans that hugged her ass, and a pissed off expression that almost hid her terror.
His impatience evaporated. For the first time all day, he was where he was supposed to be.
He wanted to pull Annabelle close enough to investigate if her top was as flimsy as it looked, but instinct told him she wouldn’t find that reassuring. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “That’s the good thing about the drive-in. You can wear whatever you want.”
Her eyes widened. “Why are we going to the drive-in?”
“Because it’s private enough that we can make out, but public enough that I won’t get too carried away. You get my note?”
She swallowed.
He was gonna kiss her right there, at the base of her throat, where he could see her muscles working. Only not yet.
“Where did you find a drive-in?” she said, finally. “I’ve never seen any around here.”
“You’ve never been to the drive-in?”
“Of course I have. Only not…you know. In this area.” Even under the dim porch light, the red spreading across her skin, between those skimpy shoulder straps, was more than obvious.
He grinned. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Then what would you call it?”
“It might have been a slight hyperbole. But that’s not the same thing.” She glanced behind her, like she was mapping out her retreat.
No way. Not happening.
He grabbed the knob and pulled the door shut. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s get a move on. I don’t want to miss the previews.”
“Maybe I should bring a sweater.”
“It’s seventy-five degrees.”
“The sun just went down. It could get chilly.”
“I’ll keep you warm.” He slung an arm around her shoulder.
Shit. Big mistake.
That thing she was wearing instead of a shirt was so thin it was like having her naked body plastered to his side. A body that had gone rigor-mortis still as soon as he’d touched her.
All hints of desire fled his system. The last thing he wanted was to make her nervous.
He loosened his grip. “Okay. What if I promise to give you full control of the heating vents?”
For a second, he thought she wasn’t going to respond, but then, in a voice that only trembled slightly, “Are you sure that’s wise? You give someone control of the heating vents, and the next thing you know, they’re messing with the seat adjustments. Even changing your radio stations.”
“Here’s what a generous guy I am. I’m gonna give you full control of my stereo too.”
“You don’t even know what music I like. I could listen to Amber Watts.”
He chuckled at the mention of the pop star his twelve-year-old cousin idolized. “What makes you think I don’t listen to Amber Watts?”
“Twenty-five-year-old former Navy SEALs do not go to Amber Watts concerts.”
“Never said I went to her concerts. But if that Satisfy Me song happens to come on the radio while I’m driving, I might turn up the volume and sing along.”
She snorted, and the tension eased out of her shoulders. “That I have to see.”
“Then let’s do this thing.” He started to walk, willing her to follow. Come on.
Her steps synced with his, and then everything was perfect except for his leg, which was—once again—moving too slow. He didn’t want Annabelle to have any extra time to change her mind.
Finally, they made it to his truck. He yanked open the passenger’s door, too eager and clumsy to count as chivalrous, but all he really cared about was making sure she got inside instead of making a run for it.
He kept her in his sights as he pulled onto the street, watching for the slightest hint that she was beginning the freakout cycle. She seemed fully occupied connecting her phone to his stereo.
The opening chords of Satisfy Me blasted through the speakers, and he burst out laughing.
Annabelle’s gaze met his. “I don’t hear you singing.”
“Give me a second.” Amber got to the chorus, and he belted out the words along with her.
Annabelle’s eyebrows jumped. “Holy crap! You’re a terrible singer. Not just bad. Like, really, spectacularly awful.”
“I know.” He grinned. “Impressive, huh?”
“It is, actually.” She gazed at him speculatively.
He didn’t want to look away, but he had a truck to drive. By the time he glanced back, her eyes were closed. She reclined against the bucket seat, singing along with Amber, and he got this weird feeling in his chest, a heat that wasn’t entirely physical desire.
After they’d left the prom, she’d kicked off her heels, curled her legs under her, and sung along with the radio while he’d recited the names of the presidents in his head, trying to keep from getting too excited. That had worked about as well then as it was working now. In other words, not at all. Good thing traffic was light.
Ten minutes later, he exited the freeway.
Amber started singing about some guy who’d left her, and Annabelle went silent. She opened her eyes when he stopped at a light. “What movie are we seeing?”
It took his sex-obsessed brain a second to process the question. “Whatever’s playing at the drive-in.”
“You don’t know what movie it is?”
“Does it matter?”
“I guess not.” She snuck a glance at him. “As long as there aren’t too many explosions. Or car chases. Or car chases that end in explosions.”
Her words started to run together, telling him her nerves were back.
He turned into the drive for Skyview Cinema. “You’re in luck. Looks like we’re watching a cartoon about a frog.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that I won’t even have any decent eye candy in between the explosions and car chases?”
“Don’t worry.” He handed the girl manning the entrance booth twenty bucks, drove in, and chose a spot in the back of the lot. “I’ll keep you entertained.”
She snuck a glance at him from her fortified position, hunkered down in her seat, belt still fastened tight. “I guess I can live with that.”
Nervous but interested. He could work with that.
The first thing to do was to get her comfortable.
Keep your distance. Let her come to you.
Fuck that—you gotta get closer. Get her used to your touch.
In the end, it wasn’t a choice. He had to touch her.
“Hey.” His hand found her cheek. Turned her toward him. “We’re about to watch a movie about a cartoon frog. And if that’s all
you want to happen, that’s all that’s gonna happen. It doesn’t matter what I wrote in that stupid note. You know that, right?”
She nodded.
Her cheek brushed his hand, a glancing pressure that rushed through his body like fire burning up a fuse.
Fuck, he wanted her. But he wasn’t a horny sixteen-year-old, and he’d meant what he said. He was gonna wait until she was ready.
He forced himself to draw back. “If you recline your seat, you’ll have a better view of the screen. And for the love of God, woman, lose the seatbelt.”
She swallowed. Her hand moved to the belt release, but she didn’t press the button. “I…I don’t want to.”
Damn. He was pushing her too fast. “No worries. Whatever you—”
“No!” There was a click, and she shoved the belt off. “I mean, I don’t want to watch the movie. I hate cartoon frogs. And I want….” She sucked in a breath. “I want to stick to the lesson plan.”
He couldn’t stop himself from touching her—not after that. He traced the column of her neck until he reached the base of her throat. He was gonna kiss her. Right there.
But not while her pulse was racing like she’d take off if he made the wrong move.
He kept his hand on her—a light touch, but he knew she could feel it. He sure could. “This is gonna be a lot like dancing. When you have a strong lead, all you have to do is follow.”
“And you’re a strong lead?”
He hoped so. Whatever she needed, that’s what he wanted to be. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m a real strong lead.”
“Then I’ll follow you.”
The need in her voice made his whole body tighten.
“Let’s get you comfortable.” It went against every urge he had to let go instead of drawing her closer, but he somehow managed it, reaching over her so he could grasp the lever to tilt her seat back. He eased it as far down as he could.
Annabelle reclined against the leather, and he was honest-to-God shaking. He wanted her under him. Over him. Any way he could have her.
Light flashed on the screen. The coming attractions. Coming attractions for the movie at the public theater he’d taken her to so he’d remember to slow the fuck down.
He forced himself to breathe, nice and deep, like when he was coming down after an op. Finally, he got enough oxygen flowing to his brain that he trusted himself to touch Annabelle.
He leaned in, moving slow, giving her plenty of time to evacuate. She didn’t move. Her heart pulsed in that sweet place at the base of her neck, and she pulled him in with her gaze. Closer. Closer.
The gearshift jabbed his side, an inanimate chaperone, but he didn’t care because Annabelle was here with him.
He buried his face in the hollow between her neck and her shoulder, and—damn. She smelled sweet and clean, and he wanted to get her dirty.
“Annabelle? I’m gonna kiss you now.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Okay. But I’m not a very good kisser.”
The resigned certainty in her tone broke his heart. He hated that she believed that bullshit. And he was going to do everything in his power to change her mind. “Then don’t kiss me back.”
“Don’t…?”
He lifted his head enough to see the shadowy outline of her face. “Lie back. Let me do the work.”
She thought about that for a second.
“Okay,” she said, finally. There was more, but watching those sweet lips form words was more than he could handle right now.
He kissed her. She was still talking, those full lips moving against his as she tried to get one last word out, pulling a groan from his chest.
He slid both hands through her hair, putting her where he wanted her.
Damn, that was good.
Soft, he told himself. Sweet.
His dick throbbed. All he could think about was getting some part of himself inside some part of her.
It wasn’t soft and it wasn’t sweet. It was hard and hot and more vital than breathing, generating so much heat they had to be fogging up the truck’s windows.
Annabelle trembled against him.
He froze, but she was pulling him closer, not pushing him away. Pushing her tongue inside his mouth.
He hadn’t thought it was possible for him to get any harder, but that did it. He rolled toward her.
The gearshift jabbed him in the stomach.
Gearshift. Car. Public theater.
He levered himself up.
“What…?” Annabelle’s face was beautifully flushed. “Sorry, I—”
“Don’t apologize.” He kissed her again, only vaguely aware of the light flashing on the screen. All he cared about was Annabelle—kissing his way down her neck to see which spot made her the craziest. She liked it when he nuzzled her ear, but when he nipped the place where her neck met her shoulder, she moaned, her whole body straining toward his, and he felt like he’d conquered the universe.
His hands traveled the path his lips had taken until they met her shoulders. Lacy fabric teased him, giving him a taste of the sweet, hot skin underneath. He found a faint ridge—her bra strap. Was it the same paper-thin lace as her top?
Don’t think about that.
He closed his eyes, but that only made it worse, because his mind was playing its own movie. Annabelle in a lacy black bra and panties, her arms wrapped around him, kissing him and kissing him and—
Brrring.
He kissed Annabelle again, willing the volume of the movie way, way down.
Brrring. Brrring, brrring.
Annabelle broke the kiss. “Is that your phone?”
Damn. It wasn’t the movie—he’d left the radio playing Amber Watts’ greatest hits instead of tuning into the station that broadcast the soundtrack. It was his phone, coming through the speakers via the Bluetooth connection, ringing over and over because whichever friend had the piss-poor timing to call now had tried again after getting voicemail.
Brrring.
He fumbled for the phone in his pocket. He was going to throw it out the window.
“Finally.” Sean’s voice boomed through the speakers.
Annabelle jumped, the sudden movement breaking her contact with Ty.
Damn. Ty hadn’t meant to hit the talk button.
“What took so long? Did you get your head stuck up your ass again?”
“I’m busy. I’ll call you later.”
“Don’t bother. Just wanted to tell you I’m taking a road trip. I met this guy at Hannigan’s last night, and he told me about a great cliff diving spot near Reno. So I’ll see you in a week.” The line went dead, right as Sean’s fuck-my-life monotone finally broke through Ty’s preoccupation. His friend didn’t sound excited about this spontaneous vacation to the land of blackjack and strip clubs, and Ty heard Keri’s voice in his head. Are you really going to sit there and watch him self-destruct?
He shook his head, trying to clear it. He was probably imagining it. Keri had planted the idea in his head, and—
“Is it me, or did he sound…weird?” Annabelle asked.
Or maybe it wasn’t his imagination after all. Shit.
“I’d better call him back. Figure out what’s going on.” He was half way through dialing Sean’s number when Annabelle handed him a pair of headphones.
“Here. So you don’t have to talk on the speaker.”
“They’re broken.”
“Do you have any others?” She clawed through the mess of junk that lived in his glove compartment, like if she didn’t find a working set of headphones in the next ten seconds, the world was gonna end.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“You can’t talk to your friend about his private issues while I’m listening in!”
“It’s cool. I’ll introduce the two of you.”
Her eyes widened like he’d suggested she strip naked and do a lap around the parking lot. “You can’t…”
“Sean won’t care. He hates talking about his feelings to friends and strangers e
qually.” Ty finished dialing just as Annabelle unearthed another pair of headphones from the glove compartment.
She grabbed the phone from the cup holder, where he’d left it, and plugged the headphones in. The ringtone sounding in the speakers went silent.
He hooked one of the earbuds in. “Now I can’t introduce you.”
“No point in wasting your time. It’s not like I’m your girlfriend.”
He started to object—just because they hadn’t gotten to the boyfriend-girlfriend stage yet didn’t mean they couldn’t be part of each other’s lives—but then he remembered the agreement. This relationship was supposed to be purely physical.
Bullshit.
Annabelle already had feelings for him.
But before he could explain that to her, Sean came on the line. “C’mon, Easy. I know you miss me when I’m gone, but it hasn’t even been five minutes.”
“Cliff diving, huh? You don’t get enough of that extreme adventure shit at work?”
“Now you’re on my case too? Are you the one who told Keri I went cave diving last week?”
“No. Except, shit…I might’ve mentioned—”
“Because I could’ve lived without that little chat. Tell you what. If you’re in the mood to give someone a lecture, explain to your sister that what I do with my free time is none of her business.”
“Yeah. Because she listens to me so well.”
“Better than she listens to me,” Sean muttered.
“Here’s an idea. Maybe if you seemed like you were actually having fun, she’d get off your case.”
“Of course I’m having fun. Why else would I be doing it?” Sean’s tone was grimly determined, like he was shipping out on a life-or-death mission instead of taking a vacation.
Every single one of Ty’s muscles went tight, choking off his words. Not that it mattered, because he had no idea what to say. Something was wrong—really wrong—and he didn’t know how to even begin asking Sean what it was.
Annabelle’s hand met his thigh. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t even look at him. She just gave him that contact she somehow knew he needed, and his throat relaxed enough to let out words.
“If there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m here.”
“Jesus. Is that why you called? So we could act out some made-for-women TV movie and talk about our feelings?”
Love and Learn (Voretti Family Book 2) Page 9