by Jordan Marie
“We have got to stop running into each other like this,” he laughs. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just in a hurry. I’ll see you later, Gavin,” I tell him, pulling away and walking around him. I’m totally lying. I probably won’t see him again. It’s been almost a week since he had me pinned up against the wall and Gloria came in and interrupted us. I have never been so glad—or sad—to see someone in my life. If she hadn’t come in when she did, I probably would have done something stupid. Like kiss Gavin O’Leary.
“Hey! Don’t run off. I’ve been looking for you. You’ve been hiding,” he says, following me in the store.
“I’ve not been that hard to find,” I laugh, but the laugh is fake. Thankfully he doesn’t know me, not really. I doubt he can tell the difference.
“Not true. You’re gone every evening when I get off work and I never see you in the mornings. I was starting to think you quit after all, but Aden tells me you’re still doing his makeup. It’s starting to feel like you’re avoiding me.”
“Now you’re being stupid. Why would I be avoiding you?” I ask, completely—totally avoiding his eyes, as I answer.
“I’m not sure Moth-girl. Why don’t you tell me?” he asks.
“You haven’t changed,” I sigh, stepping around him to go the counter. “I’ll have an iced coffee with a white chocolate drizzle and a shot of cherry please. Oh and a blueberry muffin.”
“You do have a sweet tooth, don’t you?” he asks.
I shrug. “Have you ordered?” I ask.
“Nope, I’ve already had my coffee this morning, that’s not why I’m here. Why do you ask?”
“Well you were coming out of a place famous for coffee.”
“True, but I was only here to find you.”
“Um, sure. Whatever you say,” I laugh, paying the lady as she hands me my order.
“I’m serious,” he argues and I seem to be helpless to prevent myself from looking up at him. It’s unfortunate I choose the moment I take a sip of my drink. In that small space in time, I have no idea which hits me harder. It could be the decadent taste of my coffee and the fresh kick of cherry, or the deep mesmerizing look in his blue eyes that causes butterflies to surge to life in my stomach.
“Why were you looking for me?” I ask, doing my best to pull my gaze from his beautiful eyes that shine like a sunny California day—well minus the hazy fog of the city.
“Did you miss the portion of the conversation where I told you that I keep missing you and how I think you’re avoiding me?” he asks earnestly.
I give him a half-smile, walking to the back of the small store. There’s a sectional in the back, made of leather, and shaped like a half circle. I’m always excited when I find it empty on a Friday morning. The director has been closing productions on Friday. That will change soon, but for now it’s yet another reason to love my job. Three day weekends!
I’ve made a habit of sipping my coffee and enjoy my breakfast muffin or croissant—whatever I order that particular day—and reading the latest magazine I’ve picked up, or a book. It usually relaxes me. Today is different and I don’t feel relaxed as Gavin follows me and sits down beside me. Today I’m not relaxed, I’m on edge and the reason has to do with the blonde haired, blue-eyed, stuntman across from me.
“Nothing to say for yourself?” he asks, draping his arm over the back of the sofa and curving into me, while reminding me of our conversation.
I take a sip of my drink, putting the container, with the muffin inside, down beside me. I take a minute to enjoy being this close to Gavin. I’m not exactly a small girl. Still, I rock my size fourteen curves. Gavin however, manages to make me feel tiny.
Small. Feminine. Perfect.
That’s a dangerous feeling for me—especially with Gavin. He was my kryptonite in high school. I had Superman-type restraint when it came to other boys, but not with Gavin. That one night on the football field was the highlight of my entire adolescence and the crowning memory of my teenage years. Apparently he has the same effect over the adult me, as he did back then.
This is bad. Very bad. Because now I’ve caught his attention. Attention that makes me feel alive and attention…I like.
“I don’t really know what you’re talking about, so I guess not,” I tell him innocently. Truthfully, I’ve not been hiding from him. That much. Our hours on the set are different and he’s apparently part of the stunt crew, which means special effects does his makeup—not me. Which is good, I wasn’t sad at all when I found that out. Really, I wasn’t.
“Whatever. You suck at playing innocent Moth-girl.”
“I have a name you know,” I tell him, taking another drink.
“I know. Trust me. I’ve been calling it out as I jack myself off at night,” he answers like he’s talking about the weather.
I choke mid drink. I cover my mouth, my eyes watering as I try to un-strangle myself. Gavin pulls me into him, his hand going to my back where he gently taps it. I pull away—sadly—and cough a few more times, before I look up at him, tears still sliding from my eyes.
“You did not just say that!”
“Too much honesty for our first date?”
“Our first…I don’t remember you being insane in high school,” I sigh, opening up my blueberry muffin. Gavin immediately takes it out of my hands. “Hey! What are you doing?”
“I decided to taste it first. I wanted to make sure it was safe for you to eat.”
“Safe for me?”
“Yeah. Don’t you read those romance novels? People are always poisoning food and things. I only want to make sure you’re protected,” he grins and then bites into my muffin.
“I think I hate you,” I mournfully sigh, watching as he takes the muffin away from his mouth, now with one large gaping hole off the top of it. “And this is definitely not our first date.”
“Well I didn’t want to be presumptuous and say this was our third date.”
“Our third date? How do you figure that, pray tell?”
“Pray tell?” he laughs. “I really like you Moth-girl.”
“Whatever,” I grumble, reaching up and pinching off a bite of my muffin and refusing to enjoy the fact that Gavin O’Leary said he liked me. “Explain this whole third date thing.”
“Our first date was obviously in high school.”
“I don’t think that can be classified as a date.”
“Of course it was.”
“Um. No. No it was not. I was there alone. We talked at the football field and you left me when your actual date came outside looking for you,” I remind him.
“That’s semantics,” he smirks, taking another bite of my muffin—and looking really good doing it. The bastard.
“You are seriously unhinged,” I sigh, enjoying this conversation way too much.
“I’m also double jointed. I’ll show you that later,” he winks.
“Be still my heart,” I sigh dramatically, rolling my eyes heavenward, which causes him to laugh and give me a big smile that makes it feel like I’m the only girl in the room. That in turn makes my damn heart speed up and my panties wet.
Which is annoying!
“Date number two obviously happened when you plowed me over in the alley.”
“Excuse me? I plowed you over?”
“Damn straight. I can’t remember ever seeing a more beautiful woman. I was plowed over…blown away, knocked on my ass, my socks were knocked off, I—”
“I get the picture. You’re way too smooth, have I mentioned that?”
“Thanks.”
“It wasn’t actually a compliment,” I mutter.
“I’m only saying, I agree. This is our third date, not first. But there’s so much pressure with a third date and expectations. I was trying to go easy with you.
“Pressure? Expectations?”
“Of course. You know it’s an unwritten rule that the girl is duty bound to put out by the third date.”
“Oh my God.”
“He
y, I was trying to give you a little slack since the time between our first and second date was so large.”
“Thoughtful of you, really.”
“I’m a prince of a man,” he says with a wink.
“It might surprise you, Gavin, but I have never put out on the third date in my life.”
“So you’re saying I’m your first?”
“I…How am I supposed to deal with you?”
“Agree to go out with me tonight. If you say yes, I won’t even expect us to have sex.”
“That’s sweet of you.”
“You have no idea. My dick is getting tired of my hand. I’m willing to make the sacrifice, however.”
“If I agree to this date, will you leave me alone to enjoy my morning in peace?”
“Now I ask you Moth-girl, is that really what you want?”
“I wanted my muffin, but that ship has sailed,” I answer him, watching as he finishes the last crumb of it.
“True, but I’ve proved something to myself.”
“I’m afraid to ask, but I can’t seem to stop myself. What did you prove?”
“That you have the sweetest muffin I ever tasted,” he grins. I open my mouth to say something in response, but then shut it quickly when I realize I have no idea what to say. Instead I take a drink and do my best not to blush.
6
Gavin
“I’ve had a really good time with you tonight, Gavin,” Casey says. She stops at her door, her key in her hand and she’s clearly saying goodbye. I should let her go. I find I don’t want to leave. How long has it been since I’ve enjoyed myself this much around a woman—and it didn’t involve sex?
Not that I don’t want sex from her. I do and it has zero to do with that stupid bet I made with Aden. Casey is special. God, she’s killed me tonight. She’s wearing this baby-blue wrap around dress that hugs her body like a second glove. The dress is practically making love to her ass, sliding against it, holding it, teasing it...Doing all the things I want to do to her and giving me ideas for more. The dress is tied at an angle under those full breasts. All night I’ve had to restrain myself from reaching over, pulling her to me, letting my fingers tease the underside of those luscious tits and tugging on the sash so her dress is open to me—so her body is naked for me. What would she look like naked, with nothing covering her from my gaze? That’s one question that I’ve never wondered about quite as much—until Casey.
This is one reason why my dick will now have scars from my zipper along the shaft and why I don’t want tonight to end. The other reasons are more intricate and definitely more surprising. I like Casey. I don’t mean that normally either. I’ve liked other women, hell I like all women—with exception of the nasty ones I’ve come across, Gloria being one of the first to come to mind.
Casey is different though. She is unlike any other woman I can remember, and yeah I know I’m probably repeating myself. Some things need to be repeated. She laughs. When I say that, I don’t mean small laughs. The kind that women give out that are cute and sexy and you think you’ve scored points, impressing her. Casey puts her whole body into her laugh. It’s not soft or delicate. It is fucking joyful. She eats too. Not a salad, not some newest healthy fad that makes me afraid of how she will react if I order steak. You can laugh, but that says a lot. I’ve been on dates where the girl cried for ten minutes after I ordered, because cows are people too. Shit, by the time she was done it felt like the kitchen had grilled my grandfather’s leg up for dinner.
I took Casey to one of the best restaurants on the strip. It usually takes months in advance for reservations. I was a stand-in for the owner on a movie. He and I go way back, so I’m able to get in about anytime I want. I don’t particularly like the food, it’s sushi basically, and I’m not a raw fish kind of guy. Still, it’s a good place and women are usually blown away when I take them there. There can be any number of movie stars dining inside. I wanted to impress her.
I did not.
We sat down, looked at the menus and then, she looked over at me and called me on my shit. The next thing I know we’re walking the strip and eating a hamburger from a little hole in the wall drive-in that I didn’t even know existed—Casey did. It was the best damn hamburger I’ve ever eaten.
“Is this the part where I say I did too, we promise to call and then I leave?”
“Usually,” she laughs. “But you don’t have to lie and say you’ll call,” she jokes. At least I think she’s joking.
I step in close to her, pinning her between the door and me.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks.
“You forgot something,” I murmur, lowering my head down so our lips are close. I watch her eyes. They’re beautiful brown pools of melted chocolate and every now and then I see little specks of green shining like emeralds. Fuck. I know I’m in trouble when I could spend hours gazing into a girl’s eyes.
I watch as her tongue comes out and licks her bottom lip carefully, making it glisten—and irresistible.
“What did I forget?” she asks, her warm breath fans against my skin, drugging me.
“Our kiss goodnight,” I whisper back, deep in this magical spell she seems to be weaving.
“I don’t kiss on first dates,” she answers.
“That’s good, but I’m special,” I tell her with complete honesty. My heart is trying to jump out of my damn chest. I lean deeper into her, our lips almost touching, and her eyes flutter in the slumbered moment of between needing to close, but wanting to stay open.
“Why are you special, Gavin?” she asks, her fingers tangling into my shirt.
Goddamn. Never has it felt like someone was raking across every nerve ending in my body when they said my name before. Not until Casey. My name on her lips is sweet enough to make me beg. It makes me feel alive. I’ve always been a lover of women. I enjoy them. But, from the moment I saw Casey again everything has shifted. I don’t know if love at first sight is possible. I never much believed in love to begin with, but I’m starting to think it is. It feels like it is. Casey seems the skittish type though. If I mention love, I think she might run for the hills. Hell, there’s a part of me wondering why I’m not trying to run from this. I don’t want to though. I want to…keep her.
“Because I’m going to be your last, first date,” I tell her right before I claim her lips.
7
Casey
There are moments in time that you know will live inside you forever. Up until now, that night outside on the football bleachers, at my senior prom was it for me. When I thought about Gavin—and I did more than I should have—it was always that moment. Tonight, with the blink of an eye, I know that’s no longer true.
I spent most of my adolescence imagining what it would be like talking to Gavin, being close to Gavin and then slowly I dreamed of kissing Gavin. Tonight something unexpected and completely surreal happened.
Gavin is kissing me.
His lips slide against mine. Wet. Smooth. Tender. Intoxicating.
I’ve always enjoyed kissing. I think maybe the most sensual thing about making love is kissing. I slowly open my mouth to him. That might not be the wisest choice, but it’s done without thought, done automatically. It’s Gavin and he’s always had the power to be my downfall.
He kisses different than any man I’ve ever kissed, and instinctively I know any man I might ever kiss in the future. There’s no immediate rush for gratification. He drinks from my lips first. Sucking them gently into his mouth as if he is afraid he will hurt them. I tighten my fingers in his shirt, unsure of what to do, or maybe, what not to do. I only know I don’t want him to stop. I’ve wanted Gavin’s kiss forever and it doesn’t matter to me that it’s been twelve years since our first real conversation. It doesn’t matter at all. I still want his kiss…
I need it.
I feel his teeth press down softly against the inside of my bottom lip as he sucks on it. His hand comes up to slide against the side of my neck, his thumb fans softly
back and forth on my cheek, making me feel feminine and sexy all at once. When he begins to pull back, on instinct my tongue slides against his lip, not wanting to lose contact with him, needing him to stay—not leave. Maybe that’s what he was waiting for, but that’s when his tongue slides against mine dancing with it in a way that may have ruined any other kisses for me.
I’ve often heard girls say kissing him was like tasting sex. I never understood what it meant. Yet, that’s exactly what kissing Gavin is like. Tasting sex. Forbidden, erotic, earthy, and addicting. It’s all of that and more—so much more. It seems to go on forever and yet at the same time, ends way too quickly. All I know is that by the time it is finished I’m breathless and dizzy. He pulls away gently, but not too far. He keeps me close, which is good because my knees are definitely weak.
“You know how to kiss,” he whispers.
I lick my lips, still tasting him. My lips tingle, but then so do all the other parts of my body. Especially the areas I wish he’d touch right now.
“Right back at you,” I answer, unthinkingly. The most miraculous thing happens. Surprise registers on Gavin’s face. Then he smiles, a big smile, right before he lets out a large laugh. A laugh that vibrates against my hands that are still on his stomach. It’s a laugh that causes these little lines to tighten around his eyes. They’re lines that weren’t there twelve years ago, lines that have been worn into the skin over the years. I thought he was perfection when I was in high school, but the years have truly made Gavin better. It seems unfair, really. I’ve fought with muffin tops and widening thighs, gray strands of hair, and wrinkles slowly beginning to appear. Yet, Gavin seems to have aged to perfection. He has a scar now, a deep one that travels from his temple and lazily down his jawline. That too, somehow makes him sexier.
Damn him.
I rub my lips together again, searching for his taste while wondering how he would react if I kiss him again. His laugh quietens and he places a chaste kiss on my forehead.