by S. M. West
The taste of him overwhelms and terrifies me. It’s too easy to get lost in him, and no kiss has ever been as good. Gray is an excellent kisser.
Last night, when we’d kissed for the first time, I never wanted it to stop. And now, I feel much the same way, turning into his body without any regard for where we are.
We’re no sooner chest to chest than he groans, leaning his forehead against mine. “Behave yourself.” His voice is a low, pained rumble.
A smile blitzes my mouth, and I love how I affect him as much as he does me. I’m lit up from the inside at our strong, fiery connection.
“I could kiss you all night.”
“Daze.” He grabs me by the waist, hauling my body hard against his, and his head bends to nip at the column of my neck. “You’re killing me.”
Smashing my lips together, I suffocate a squeal and lower my head, suddenly conscious of the petite hostess, looking on with a neutral expression. She doesn’t give away a thing, whether amused or appalled with our public display of affection.
My date doesn’t miss a beat, and before I know it, we’re following the woman through the intimate, yet relaxed candlelit dining room. She deposits us at a table for two in one of the many nooks and crannies scattered throughout the room. Perfect for privacy and romance.
The table settings are across from each other, but Gray unceremoniously picks up his silverware and puts it next to mine before lifting his chair to do the same.
“There’s no way I’m sitting across the table from you.”
Again, I find myself giggling like a lovesick teenager and take my seat beside him. His hand rests lightly on my knee and I’m home. His touch is natural and right.
“Yes, this is much better.” I stare at his lush lips and want to kiss him again. It’s my new favorite pastime and I feel like I am a lovesick teenager.
Someone clears their throat and my gaze snaps to our server, a young man standing at the edge of the table. He smiles, takes our drink order and leaves us to look at the menu.
At first, I’m silent, eyes glossing over the array of delicious choices to eat. When Gray picked me up tonight, I nearly swallowed my tongue.
I mean, he’s gorgeous and definitely a rock star with the longer hair on top, constantly tousled and flopping onto his forehead, tall, lean, and tattoos everywhere. He usually completes the look with his timeless attire of jeans and a T-shirt.
His wardrobe is basic yet he’s devastatingly sexy. His ass is a thing to drool over. Women have literally been brought to screaming tears. No one wears jeans like Gray.
Tonight, I get a different version of him. He’s wearing a Tom Ford black suit, without the jacket. Instead, he’s in a waistcoat, or like us common people would say, a vest, and the sleeves of his white button-down shirt are rolled up his forearms.
I’ve seen Gray dressed up before, but because we’re now dating, it’s like I have permission to fawn over all the things about him I’d forced myself not to notice when we were in the friend zone.
He stood at my door, and I was speechless yet also filled with a happiness I’d only ever felt with my son. And now, I’m with him, tolerating sneaky glances from strangers at other tables, barely able to contain my joy.
“Do you think it’s weird that this doesn’t feel weird?” I squeeze his hand, almost as if to make sure he’s real.
He glances up from the menu, and under the table, one callused finger rubs lazily along the inside of my knee. Suddenly, I’m on fire.
“You mean the date?”
“Yes, also…all of it. You and me.”
“What does it feel like to you?” He’s intrigued, blue eyes never straying from me while he closes the menu.
“Perfect,” I blurt and at first, his eyes smolder. “It feels right. Comfortable.” But it’s a poor choice of words as his flame fizzles.
He frowns. “Oh, great, so boring.”
“Oh, God, no. I’m excited.” My heart is a racehorse, thundering in my chest and ears. “I just mean, I don’t have the questions or uncertainty that come with a first date. Usually, it’s nerve-wracking with so many unknowns. Things can seriously bomb.” My stomach backflips at his warm chuckle. “But with you, I know it won’t.”
“Oh yeah?” One side of his mouth kicks up, eyes twinkling. “And you’ve been on many first dates?”
Arching a brow, I shake my head and smirk. “Not really. I’ve maybe had half a dozen. In high school, I had two boyfriends, and once I went to Europe, there were a few first dates but nothing serious. I just know they aren’t comfortable, in a good way, like this,” I rush to add. “I don’t like first dates. What about you? Have you had many?” No sooner do I ask than I regret it.
Jealousy sinks its claw into me at the thought of Gray with another woman. I’m not naïve enough to think his Trojan days were tame. All the guys in the band were sought after, and I’m sure he’s had his share of groupies.
But we’re talking first dates, not random, casual hook-ups. Ugh. Okay, maybe this wasn’t a good topic. Nothing about Gray and other women is comfortable.
“Nah, I didn’t really date. I had one girlfriend in high school for two years and then we parted ways when we graduated. And when I was with Trojan, there really wasn’t a chance to have any dates.” He shifts awkwardly in his chair.
I wonder if he’s thinking what I am. A model and a rock star—we both led what some might think are self-indulgent and excessive lifestyles…and it can be if you let it take hold.
Did he give in to all of that—sex, drugs, and who knows what else? I could ask. He’d tell me the truth. Although does it really matter? I’m not a virgin nor a saint, and I wasn’t one before modeling.
He cuts through my thoughts.“You said you know we won’t crash and burn. How can you be so sure?”
Before I can answer, our server returns to take our order. I’ve barely looked at the menu, and I ask Gray to choose for me. He knows what I like.
Once alone, he turns to me. “I want you to answer my question. How are you so sure our date isn’t going to tank?”
“Because I already know everything about you that matters. Dating is a way to get to know someone. To see if there’s something beyond a physical attraction, if you’re lucky enough to even start with that. You know, to see if you click. That isn’t us.”
A smile buds on his closed mouth, and I can’t tell if he’s interested in what I’m saying or amused or maybe both.
“Are you making fun of me?” I pull back to get a better look at him.
“No. Never. I feel the same way. Nothing about tonight feels weird or unsure but it’s also…what did you say? Exciting.” He lightly pecks my cheek.
This feels good and while I don’t want to ruin the mood, my curiosity gets the better of me. “You know I don’t need this, right?”
“Need what?” Confusion swims in his eyes.
“The fancy restaurant. Dates. I love being with you no matter what we’re doing.”
“Yeah, I feel the same way, but who doesn’t need a night out? I love spending time with you and Henry, but this is for us. And I didn’t want this shift in our relationship to just be more of the same.”
“Oh, it isn’t going to be.” I grin and my hand slides under the table to squeeze his hard thigh, taking a liberty I never had before—to touch him whenever I want to.
Now that we’re dating, he’s mine. And I’m bombarded with sensations and tingles just thinking about our kisses and our touches and the way his muscled thigh heats my palm.
His lips part, eyes darkening, and the air stops moving in my lungs. I can’t seem to bring myself to remove my hand or go any farther. Not that I should be groping him—we’re in a public place for crying out loud.
He heaves out a long, ragged breath and closes his eyes for a blink. “I’m going to an early grave because of you.”
“Don’t say that.” I start to breathe again as my hand, with a mind of its own, squeezes his toned leg once more before sliding down
to his knee and letting go.
“It’s true. Your hands on me…” He leans in close, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, and his warm lips brush the shell of my ear. “Fuck, I want you so badly. When you touch me…the fragile control I’m trying to keep a hold of…Daze, I’m about to snap.”
“And that’s what I mean.” I turn my head and our lips are now a breath apart. “Even without this amazing dinner, we’re discovering each other in new and just as exciting ways.”
He swallows thickly and I prepare for a kiss, the one I so desperately need. But sadly, once again, we’re interrupted by our server with our appetizers. I jolt away from Gray, hands in my lap as I sit up straight and force a casual, I’m not doing anything inappropriate smile.
For most of the meal, we stay close but manage to keep our hands to ourselves. We share the king crab tempura while sipping on champagne, and for our entrees, Gray has the seared yellowfin tuna with a beer. I have the grilled salmon, and we share the parmesan truffle fries—to die for.
“Did you tell India you’ll play for her album?” I place the last of the fries in front of him.
“Yeah.” He shoves a golden potato into his mouth.
“And? Was she happy? When do you start?” I ramble and my nerves are sparking, still a little troubled by the sexy songstress.
“We start recording tomorrow, and yes, she was happy. So was Silas.”
“That’s great.” I nibble on my lip, playing with the edge of my napkin, trying not to think about all those hours he’ll be with India.
I trust Gray, that’s not my concern. I don’t trust her, and I wouldn’t put it past her to make an even bolder move now that she’ll have him for hours on end.
“Hey.” His warm hand rests on top of mine and I lift my gaze to meet his. “This is strictly business, always has been, and I’ll make sure she understands that. I’ve been more than easygoing where India’s concerned but I’m not interested.”
“I know.” And I do, but it’s a relief to hear him say the words yet I don’t leave well enough alone. “But you haven’t exactly stopped her from groping you.”
He raises a brow and drops the French fry back onto the plate. “India loves to make a scene, and telling her to back off would definitely bring one. That’s why I haven’t bothered until now.”
“Now?” I cock my head to one side, hands clammy in anticipation.
“Yeah, before, I was single, and she didn’t do anything beyond touching in friendly ways to let me know she was interested. She didn’t exactly grope me.” His smile is wry and while I could argue the point, it isn’t worth it. I want to hear what he has to say more. “If she had taken it too far, I would have said something. I didn’t want the drama. And now I will make it clear to her that I’m with you, and I’m pretty sure my girl doesn’t want another woman making any moves on me.”
I don’t miss the hint of a question to his tone, not wanting to assume I’m territorial or give a damn. Damn, I do.
“You got that right.” I snatch the fry from his plate and pop it into my mouth.
I’m full, and eating the last bit of potato is difficult, but I’m making it known that he’s mine as are his fries. It’s silly, but also my way of lightening the mood. He laughs, smiling as he brings my greasy fingers to his lips to lick them clean.
My insides combust, toes curling as his tongue strokes and sucks on my fingers. I quiver with need, my core pulses, and I’m hungry, ravenous for this man.
Fortunately, the server comes to take away our plates, and I excuse myself to the restroom where I run cool water on my wrists.
12
Daisy
This feels holy
Dinner is divine, and we pass on dessert. I’m sinfully full by the time we leave at well after ten o’clock. Henry’s sleeping at Silas and Pansy’s again so we don’t have to end our date here, and I wonder what Gray has in mind.
His car pulls up in front of my house, and I shift in the seat to face him. “You going to come in?”
“I shouldn’t.” His hand grips the gearshift so tightly, his skin whitens.
“What if I said I want you to come in?” I place my hand on top of his and slowly, I pry his fingers loose, one at a time.
He laughs and with the now relaxed hand, he gently pushes my hair off my face. “I meant it when I said we should take things slow. If I come in…”
“And what if I don’t want to go slow?” I can’t believe I’m whining, but it doesn’t stop me from leaning into him.
My mouth covers his, hard and fast, and I deliberately pull away before he can deepen the kiss. If he feels remotely like I do, a quick peck isn’t enough. It’s a match to gasoline. He’ll burn with a want for more. I want more.
I hop out of his car, sauntering to my house, hot and aching in places I’ve neglected for far too long. I don’t need to check if he’s behind me. The heat of him, his fiery need, is at my back as I unlock the front door.
He follows me in, shutting the door behind him, and like a tornado, he grasps my hips, twirling me clear off the floor. My head spins and heart thumps in my throat while he carries me through the dark house toward my bedroom.
Yes. Has he finally let go of his silly notion of slow? Is he finally giving in to our mutual desire?
He tosses me onto the bed, and shocked, I release a yelp and a laugh, not pausing once my backside hits the mattress. I scramble up to the side lamp and turn it on.
The dark is nice, but I want to see him. I need to see him. Unknowingly, I’ve wanted this for so long, this man, and now I don’t want to miss a thing. I want to see it all. All of him.
Tugging on my ankle, he pulls me down the bed and I give in to him, dropping my back onto the bed so I’m now sprawled out for him. The mattress shifts with his weight and Gray’s now kneeling above me as an exciting thrill shoots through me.
Every inch of me aches for him, and while he’s so close, he also feels too far away.
His beautiful eyes smolder as they skate over me. “Daisy, I told myself we’d take this slow.”
“Fuck slow,” I blurt out on a saucy grin, and he grunts a laugh, eyes widening.
“Why Ms. Dobson, you shock me.” His teasing tone does wicked, twisty things to me and I rub my legs together, fruitlessly trying to satiate my need. “I might just have to do something about that filthy mouth of yours.”
“I think you should.” It isn’t a taunt but more a plea because just one look from him sets me on fire.
One hand curls around the back of my neck, lifting my head to bring my mouth to his, and the other caresses my breast through the material of my dress. At his touch, my nipples harden and he makes a satisfied sound, but it isn’t enough for me.
I whimper, thrusting my chest into his palm, and his lips fasten onto my neck, tongue darting out for a teasing lick. Then he sucks hard, but it doesn’t hurt—not much anyway—and it’s more pleasure than pain. Delicious pleasure ziplining straight to my core.
My hips buck off the bed, and he releases a deep throaty moan, catching my bottom lip between his teeth. His fingers grab fistfuls of my hair, knuckles kissing my skull, and his hot mouth scorches a path along my jaw and chin.
Together, we grapple to remove his vest and shirt and my dress and bra without pulling away from each other. Now on my knees, only in panties, my hands glide over his defined chest, broad shoulders, and around his neck.
My breasts press into the heat of him, his hard lines and unyielding muscle. My nipples are pointy peaks, sensitive and blazing, and my fingers tangle in the ends of his hair.
Fingers hooking into the sides of my panties, he drags them down my legs, and I’m completely naked, bared to him. He pulls away to gently place my back flat on the bed.
Then he drops down onto his elbows and forearms, sliding onto his stomach like some kind of military maneuver. The lower half of his body hangs off the bed, and opening my legs, he’s face to face with my sex.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
I’m not a religious person, but this feels holy. Prayer feels like something I should do. I fist the sheet, suddenly conscious of how exposed I am to him, truly bared. But I don’t want to shy away.
“Everything about you is beautiful.” His voice is husky and reverent and my girly bits clench with arousal.
Blond hair falls forward, hiding his face from me, and I need to see all of him. I push onto my elbows and slide my gaze down my body to where he is, between my legs.
A hand reaches for him, fingers threading into his hair as I push the locks away from his face. He stares at me, eyes intent and blazing, before he breaks the connection to dip down to my core.
“So fucking pretty. Your pussy is so pretty.” A hand cups my sex, and the press of his fingers sends a hot flood of arousal through me when he runs his fingers through my cleft. “I want a taste. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to taste you?”
All I can do is whimper approval, or at least I hope that’s how he understands it. I want that too—his mouth on me, tasting me.
My legs are aquiver as he kisses his way up the inside, all the way up from my knees. Up and up, first one leg and then the other. His warm, firm lips and wet tongue pave a path along my inner thighs.
He presses his face against my mound, inhaling my arousal and kissing my sensitive flesh once. I flush from the inside out, and everything within me short-circuits. Mouth molding to the lips between my legs, the tip of his tongue drags through my folds.
Every single part of my being narrows to that single sensation. His mouth and tongue on me. Nothing else registers or matters. Nothing exists but this right here, Gray and me, in this room.
His lips suck on my clit, and one finger pumps slowly and purposefully into my body. It’s glorious and not nearly enough. Then two fingers slide in and out of me, and the need for him, for more, surges within me like a tsunami.