by D. Kelly
Once we’re inside, she kicks off her heels like she does each night after work. We sit together on the couch, and I pull her feet into my lap. When I start to rub them, she releases a groan that makes my cock ache.
“Can I ask you a strange question?” I ask, while kneading her foot with my fingers.
She moans again, and I reposition her foot so she can’t see what effect her noises have on me. “You can ask me anything you’d like as long as you keep massaging my feet.”
“Seems like a fair trade.” I flash her a smile before hitting her with the question I’ve been dying to know the answer to. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately—not in a creepy way, I promise. I’m just trying to put all the pieces together about your dating life. We’ve never really talked about certain things, and I’m curious. If you were saving all your firsts, why did you lose your virginity to some random guy?”
Bexley exhales, and when her eyes meet mine, it’s with a weary gaze. “Besides not wanting to be a virgin anymore, which was the main reason, I didn’t want to find the man of my dreams and lose him because I was inexperienced. It’s stupid, I know, but it’s how I felt. How I still feel.”
“I wish you would have asked me,” I confess without looking away.
“You? W . . . why?”
“Because I love you, and you’re my best friend. I would’ve made sure it was special for you. I hate that something so important to you was done with some random guy, and you ended up doing the walk of shame the next morning.”
She pulls her feet away, tucking them beneath her, and props an arm on the back of the couch. After brushing a wayward curl from my forehead, she meets my eyes again. “What is going on in your head tonight? Talk to me, Tris.”
“I’m trying.”
“Start with telling me why you made me promise not to date without talking to you first.”
Reaching forward, I caress her cheek, and she leans into my touch. “Date me next.”
I use the tone she calls the commanding one, and her eyes dilate. Fuck . . . it really does turn her on. How did I never notice that?
“Tristan, that’s a really bad idea.”
“Why?”
“Why? For starters, you’re my best friend.”
“Exactly.” I weave my fingers into her hair, and she moves closer to me. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll be fine, I promise. I won’t let this get in the way of our friendship.”
“You say that now but—”
I bring my finger to her lips to silence her. “No buts; we’ve been through so much already. We can handle seven dates.”
“You’re assuming you’ll make it to the seventh date.” As I smile, she gasps. “That’s why you made me promise.”
I’m about to lay all my cards on the table. “Yes. Bexley, I want my chance to win your heart.”
Her eyes close for a long moment, but my hand is still at the base of her neck, my fingers entwined in her curls. “I’m scared, Tris. What if you do something that’s a deal breaker?”
“That’s always a possibility, but if I do it in the first six dates, you have to let it go. If I do it on the seventh, well, that’s a risk I’m willing to take, I suppose. Either way, nothing is going to come between us. Nothing.”
The air snaps between us. This has become a defining moment in our relationship, but it’s one I think, deep down, we both knew was inevitable.
“Would tonight count as our first date?” She still hasn’t opened her eyes.
“That depends. Do you kiss on your first dates?”
Her eyes finally snap open, and I’m met with a lust-filled gaze. Damn, I’ve never seen this look on her, but now I don’t ever want to see her without it. “Sometimes, I do.”
“Well, if you want a kiss good night, then we can count this as our first date. Otherwise, tomorrow can be our first date.”
The rise and fall of her chest becomes noticeable as her breathing intensifies. She squirms, and I realize she’s turned on. Part of me wants her to say no, this isn’t our first date, because I’d love for it to be special to her. But another part of me wants to take her mouth with mine and kiss her until morning.
“Are you a good kisser?” she whispers, inching even closer to me. Bexley watches intently as I lick my lips ever so slightly, moistening what I want to give her.
“I’ve never had any complaints, but there’s always a first time for everything.” I cup the back of her neck and pull her closer to me—so close, she’s only a whisper from my lips. “It’s your call. What do you want to do?”
She moves forward and presses her lips tentatively against mine. In the course of every relationship, there is a make-or-break moment, and this one is ours—I feel it to my core as her apricot scent envelops me. I’m a lost cause.
“First date it is,” I whisper against them before wrapping my free arm around her waist and pulling her even closer.
As my tongue slides against her lips, she whimpers so sweetly I want to devour her. We kiss chastely a few times as we begin to find our rhythm. When she opens her mouth for more, I dip my tongue in slowly, needing to savor each millisecond of this moment in time. I’m going to remember this night for years to come.
Our mouths move together as our tongues meet in tandem, and this kiss obliterates any other kiss I’ve ever had. She moves her hands to my shirt and clutches onto it as if her life depends on me. A sense of pride surges through me at the thought. If there’s one person I want to depend on me, it’s Bexley.
Her whimpers increase as our kiss deepens, and when she slides her hands up my shirt, I can’t hold back the growl that escapes me. There is no doubt in my mind I could kiss her like this until sunrise, but that wouldn’t be first-date appropriate. Not the kind of first date she deserves anyway.
As much as it pains me to do so, I bring my hands to her cheeks and slow the moment down. It’s for the best. If we keep going, we may end up naked between the sheets, and that’s not my goal. Not this week anyway.
“Tristan.” She gasps for air as our foreheads remain touching.
“Bexley.” I’m equally breathless.
“Are we . . . I mean . . . that was . . . beyond words.”
“Good end to our first date?”
She sighs softly, her breath caressing my lips. “Best end to the best first date ever.”
“That’s high praise, coming from you.”
She giggles, and it’s the sweetest sound. “So are there kisses at the end of the second date?”
The eagerness in her voice is exactly what I hoped to hear. “If we play our cards right, there very well could be.”
“Do you have it planned already?”
I pull back slightly so I can see her eyes. “I was thinking we could wake up and plan it together?”
She’s been out on so many dates. I don’t want to do anything repetitive or associated with bad memories, but most of all, I think Bex would enjoy having a say instead of the constant way she stresses about what to wear and if she’ll like what the men in her life do.
Her smile confirms I was right. “I’d love to plan something together. Thank you.”
She yawns, and after last night, her long day at work, and the drinks she had at the bar, I know she’s sleepy. I stand and hold out my hand, which she eagerly takes. “Let me walk you to your door.”
I’ve held Bexley’s hand a thousand times, but this time is different. This is the time I’ll always remember. “Can you do me a favor?”
When she looks up at me, her eyes dance with happiness. “I’ll try.”
“When we go out on our dates, and I inevitably do something that lands me on your naughty list, come home and write it down. But for every one strike against me, I want you to make a note of five things I do right.”
She cracks a grin but easily agrees. “Okay.”
“Thank you,” I reply, before sliding a finger under her chin and tilting her head up. My mouth covers her
s, and my tongue dips inside for one last brief taste of her until next time. “Good night, Bex. Sweet dreams.”
“Night, Tristan.”
When I finally make my way into the kitchen, it’s after ten in the morning. I haven’t slept as well as I did last night in a long time. There are fresh donuts on the table and coffee in the pot.
Once I’ve got the perfect ratio of cream and sugar in my cup, I open the box of donuts and groan.
I’m going to have to go to the gym if I eat these, but there’s no way I’m not eating these. I pull two of my favorites onto a paper towel and lose myself in memories of last night’s kiss.
Over the years, there have been times when I’ve wondered what it would be like with Tristan. There would be something incredibly wrong with me if I didn’t. He’s kind, loyal, and giving. He’s a serial monogamist and dates with purpose—not just for sex. Occasionally, he’ll have a one-night stand, but they’re the exception – not the rule. Plus, with his caramel-colored curls and his blue eyes, not to mention a dimple to die for and the chiseled jaw of a runway model, the man is gorgeous. He’s confident and cocky, but not in a bad way, and he would do anything for the people he cares about.
So yeah, of course, I’ve thought about being with Tristan, but once I get past all the plus sides of a potential relationship with him, I arrive at the negatives. Not negatives like tasseled shoes; negatives like screwing everything up and losing him from my life forever.
Even though we shared a life-altering kiss last night, I’m not prepared for a reality without him. It’s too late to second-guess myself now. Sure, he’d let me back out, but I don’t want to be that fearful girl anymore. I want to be the kind of woman who deserves a man like him.
“Hey,” Tristan says as he towels off in the doorway. Sweat drips down his forehead, and his abdomen glistens before he wipes the perspiration away.
“Way to make me feel like a slob. You left me here with my biggest weakness, and you’ve been out running.”
His laughter lights me up, and fuck, that smile has a sinful effect on my lady parts. “Didn’t you notice there were already four missing? If I hadn’t gone for a run, you’d have to roll me out to our date tonight.”
Tristan doesn’t actually like running, but he does it when he’s anxious or when he needs to process something. He says once he hits his stride, it’s like his mind goes into fast-forward, and when the endorphin rush kicks in, everything begins to make sense.
“Why did you go for a run?” Please don’t say it’s because you regret last night.
He steps forward and tilts my head toward him, pulling my gaze from the inside of my coffee cup. “Because it was the only thing keeping me from waking you up and kissing you good morning.”
“Oh.” That was unexpected.
“You’re welcome.”
“Who says I would have minded?”
He grabs a water bottle from the refrigerator and chuckles. “Bex, I’m going to try my damnedest to follow appropriate date protocols for the next six dates.” Then he leans down, his lips ghosting over the shell of my ear, and in that sexy fucking tone, he lights my soul on fire. “If we make it to an eighth date, I’m not going to be a gentleman. On date number eight, I’m going to make you beg, and you’re going to love every fucking minute of it.”
I have no words. Literally none, and I don’t need any as he leans down and kisses the top of my head. “I’m taking a shower. We’ll talk about what you want to do tonight when I get out.”
Once I hear the shower turn on, I ditch my coffee and donuts and dash to my room. I find an unused notebook and open it, then title seven pages with date numbers. After drawing a dividing line on each one, and labeling the top half of the page good and the bottom half bad—I’m ready to begin.
For now, I skip the first date page and go straight to the one assigned to our second date.
In the good part, I write the first of five good things.
Turned me on in a way I’ve never been turned on before. I don’t know where this version of Tristan has been hiding, but damn . . . I can’t wait to get to know him.
Before closing the notebook, I add one more thing.
Brought me donuts this morning—my favorite ones.
When I make it back to the kitchen, I top off my coffee and curl up on the couch to drink it. I’m pretty sure I know what I want to do tonight on our date, but I’m also pretty sure Tristan will laugh at me.
My phone rings, and Rita’s picture flashes on the screen. I pick up and put my coffee down. “How did your date go?”
She laughs. “Good morning to you too. I’m just crawling into bed now.”
“I take it that means your night went well.”
“Mmmhmm, that man has skills.”
I don’t want to think about Adam’s skills. “Must be all the porn he watches.”
“I know, right? He’s got the perfect job. I’d almost be jealous if I wasn’t reaping the benefits of his profession.”
She is something else. “Are you going out again?”
Rita yawns. “We are. Tomorrow night, he’s taking me to dinner.”
Wow. That’s a big step for Adam; he must really like her. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks. I’m so tired, but I wanted to know what happened with you and Tristan last night.”
My coffee goes down the wrong pipe, and I cough. “What do you mean?” I manage to choke out.
“Oh, come on, Bexley! He looked like he wanted to devour you. I’m talking about him-diving-under-the-table-and-burying-his-face-in-your-panties kind of devour. That man wants to claim you, girl, and with that kind of sexual promise hovering in the air between you, you should let him and enjoy every goddamn second of it.”
My cheeks are flaming hot. “It didn’t get that far.”
She squeals. “But it did get somewhere?”
“Maybe . . .”
Tristan chooses this moment to join me on the couch. The scent of his cologne wraps around me and makes me want to climb him like he’s a jungle gym.
“He’s right there, isn’t he? Don’t answer that; I know he is. Just tell me, did it go beyond kissing?” Rita asks.
“No, not at all.”
“But you did kiss?”
“Yeah, that’s great. You guys have a good time.”
Rita squeals again and then yawns. Sometimes, she acts like she’s still in college, but it’s part of her charm. “Monday morning, you’re meeting me for breakfast before work. Usual place, usual time.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice. Chocolate chip pancakes are the best way to start a Monday. But now, I’m definitely going to the gym. Tristan bought donuts for breakfast today too.”
“Please, you should go to the gym just so you can pay penance like the rest of us. You have the best metabolism of anyone I’ve met in my life. Your curves are in all the right places; you’re not too skinny, and you’re not fat. It’s like the body gods saw you and knew you were such a good person inside and out that they made you with zero flaws.”
Tristan catches me rolling my eyes and snorts.
“You’re being ridiculous. I have more flaws than I can count, but thanks for trying to boost my self-confidence. Get some sleep, and I’ll see you Monday.” I reach for my coffee and put my phone on the table.
“Did Rita just get home?”
“She did, and apparently, Adam is taking her on a dinner-date tomorrow night.” I’m met with a smug grin, and I know what’s coming next.
“I told you they’d hit it off.”
I reach over and smack his shoulder. “Your inner teenager is showing.”
“Like I care. Have you figured out what you want to do tonight?”
“Maybe, but my inner teenager will be showing, and you’re probably going to laugh at me.”
“I’d never laugh at you, Bex.” With an arched brow, I meet his gaze. “Okay, I might laugh at you, but only i
n fun.”
One appealing thing about dating Tristan is that I feel comfortable enough to do things. We already know each other, so we don’t have to do all that awkward getting-to-know-you stuff. “What I want to do is very high school but also sort of advanced for me at the same time.”
His eyes light up as he grins at me. “I’m waiting.”
“This is so embarrassing.”
“More embarrassing than the time Adam tripped me in class, and I flew into Mrs. Langley’s seventy-year-old rack of triple Ds?”
I laugh so hard I snort through my tears. “That was hilarious, and even though I was mortified for you, I was also happy for her. That had to be the most action she’d seen in years.”
He shrugs. “They were comfortable, but most breasts are.” He lowers his eyes to mine, and it’s suddenly hard to catch my breath. “Tell me what you want to do, Bex.”
“Will you take me to the movies?”
“Really? That’s it? We’ve been to the movies a thousand times.”
It’s now or never. “We have, but I’ve never made out with anyone in a movie theater before.”
I wish there was a way to capture his smile and market it as an antidepressant. There is no way you could look at that grin and not have an endorphin rush.
“Jesus, Bex, how is that even possible?”
“I guess there are a lot of things I’ve never done. Outside of high school and college, all my dates have been more of the getting-to-know-you kind. Meals, drinks, walks, etcetera, and while we were in school, it was mostly parties and fast food. Movies, sure, but we never got to the making out stage.”
God, I wish I knew what he was thinking right now. His expression is blank, and I wonder if I made a mistake by asking for this.
“You know what? It’s too much. Never mind—let’s just go to dinner.”
“No, give me a minute. I’m fighting the urge to do something I shouldn’t right now.”
“What’s that?” I whisper without looking at him.
He groans. “Ask me if we make it to date eight, and I’ll show you.”