by Black, Lacey
“Starving. I forgot how much of an appetite you work up,” she says as we make our way to the doorway. From there, we head into the adjoining room where you order food and sit and rest.
“Anything special on your pizza?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” she teases. No, I haven’t forgotten. Not one bit. I actually remember quite a bit of random details about Miss Meghan Summer, but I try not to flaunt it. There’s a fine line between observant and stalker.
“Sausage and mushroom,” I state when we reach the counter. She nods with a grin, which makes me feel a bit like Superman. I could conquer anything if she just keeps smiling like that. It’s a hell of a lot better than the tears I’ve witnessed over the last few years.
“Can I help you?”
“Large sausage and mushroom pizza with two Sprites, please,” I order, pulling my wallet from my shorts. After she hands me my change and our order number, Meghan and I take our drinks and head toward an open table.
“My feet are going to be sore tomorrow,” she says, dropping into the chair across from me. “I forgot how strenuous this is.”
“Me too. Maybe this wasn’t my best idea,” I reply, reaching over and grabbing her hands.
“No, it was a perfect idea. I haven’t been in decades, and I’m happy that I got the chance to skate again. I’m having a great time.”
“You are?” I ask, not able to stop my own smile.
“The best,” she replies, squeezing my hands with her own. “Maybe even the best first date I’ve ever been on,” she adds casually with a shrug, but then realization seems to set in.
“It’s okay, if it’s not the best,” I assure her, caressing her knuckles with my thumbs. My finger grazes over the ring on her finger, a subtle reminder of the pain she still carries.
Her eyes still sparkle, but you can see as she gets lost in a memory. “No, it really is the best first date. I know what you’re thinking, and I appreciate it, but the first time Josh took me out was just your average, typical date.”
“Where did you go?” I find myself asking, really wanting to know the answer.
“We went to the movies and saw some rom-com film that I don’t even remember the name of. Then, we went for ice cream at the parlor uptown. It was nice.”
“Sounds nice.”
“But it was also awkward,” she confesses. “We were both pretty shy, so it took us a while to get comfortable in our relationship.”
“You’re not shy or awkward now,” I add.
“No, Grandma and Grandpa pretty much cured me and my sisters of any bit of bashfulness we may have had.”
I laugh as our number is called at the counter. Retrieving our dinner, I join Meghan at the table and dive in. We consume most of the large pizza and keep talking like we’ve known each other forever. It amazes me how comfortable I feel around Meghan. I dated Collette for a few years – hell, I even moved her into my house and bought a ring (that I thankfully didn’t give her) – and never felt this light and easiness that I feel with this particular woman.
More than an hour after we finish our pizza, Starship’s “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” begins to play over the sound system. “I love this song! Come on, one last spin around the rink before we head home,” she says, standing up and reaching for my hand. I take it instantly, and even though my feet aren’t excited for the last skate, I follow her back into the main area.
We keep our fingers entwined as we glide around the rink, singing along with the music. Every time she glances my way, I’m rewarded with a blinding smile. When I build up the confidence, I swing her out and watch as she does a little spin move. I snatch up her hand again as I cruise by, pulling her along until we’re skating side-by-side again.
We are laughing, carrying on, and enjoying the moment, when suddenly, someone stops in front of us. I visualize the crash moments before I feel it. In an attempt to save Meghan from going down with me, I try to spin her out, only to get the front wheels of our skates tangled up.
The result is painful. We go down hard, a tangled mess of arms and legs, not to mention the fact that the weight of the skates makes it difficult to determine where exactly your foot is going to end up. For me, it ends up at an awkward angle that includes a pull, followed by a bit of a burn.
I gaze down at the woman lying next to me on the hard floor, ready to pull every apology I can out of my ass. Before I can open my mouth, she bursts into fits of laughter. In fact, she’s laughing so hard, I’m pretty sure there are tears in her eyes.
“Christ, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep from panicking at the thought of hurting Meghan.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” she giggles, her green eyes sparkling like brilliant emeralds beneath the spinning disco balls.
“Fuck no, it wasn’t. Are you all right?” I ask, glancing down to make sure no bones are protruding from her body.
“I’m fine,” she says, a bit breathless from our spill.
When I finish my perusal for injuries, I discover where my hand landed and so much more. My eyes are riveted to her thighs, where her pink dress is pulled up to her waist. Her smooth, creamy skin is on full display, and my very male brain zeros in on the sliver of pink lace between her legs. My mouth goes dry and my cock rigid. Suddenly, it’s hotter than Hell inside this place and I can’t breathe. Quickly, I pull the hem of her dress down enough to cover what was exposed by the spill. I go to pull on the neck of my shirt, but my hand won’t move. It won’t move because it’s plastered on her outer thigh, my fingers grazing the globe of her ass.
Sweet mother of God, I’m touching Meghan’s thigh.
And saw her panties.
I’ll jack off to this exact image for the rest of my life.
“Nick?” My name on her lips is both a question and a plea. My eyes zero in on her lips. Those full, lush, completely kissable lips. Suddenly, tasting those lips is the only thing I can think about, the only thing I want.
With our eyes locked, my head dips down, her lips drawing closer and closer with each passing second. I can feel her breath fan across my face until I’m right there – my lips are a whisper away from hers. It would take very minimal movement and I would be kissing Meghan.
I don’t want to question it, but I do hesitate. I need to give her time to realize what’s happening. When her sexy little tongue slips out and licks her lips, I know what her answer is. Her eyes close a moment later, and I get ready to make my move. I didn’t even realize how much I wanted this kiss until this exact moment, and now, I want it more than I want air. No, I need it.
“Spill on aisle four!” a skater hollers as he whizzes by, pulling us out of the moment.
Meghan’s eyes fly open and crash into mine, the almost-kiss moment shattering like a glass vase on the ground, and realization settles in. We’re sprawled out on the floor, in the middle of the rink, and I was about to kiss Meghan. Publicly. Our first kiss was almost witnessed by half the town of Cooper, and two dozen teenagers with smart phones.
Superb job, Nicholas. Smooth. Real smooth.
Chapter Seventeen
Meghan
He almost kissed me.
I almost kissed him.
But more importantly, I’m completely overwhelmed with disappointment that the moment was broken. I didn’t realize how badly I wanted him to kiss me until that teenager skated by and smarted off.
Now, the moment is broken, and I’m not too sure about the state of my ankle. It twisted in a funny direction the moment we went down, and the weight of the roller skates isn’t helping. But surprisingly, there’s no pain. In fact, I feel completely the opposite of pain when my body is entwined with his, even if we’re lying on the floor like a couple of rag dolls.
“I was trying to avoid this,” he mumbles, moving just a bit and getting his bearings.
“Avoid kissing me?” I tease, knowing full well that he was meaning the fall.
“What? No,” he insists, his eyes wide as he starts to stand up. “I
meant I tried to spin you out so you didn’t crash into that guy.”
“I know,” I reply with a smile. Nick extends his hand down to me, ready to help me stand. My hand feels warm and tingly as I place it inside his, and all I really can think about is finishing that kiss – or starting the kiss.
“On that note, maybe we should leave the skating to the kids,” he says with a smile, watching as people whiz by us at a higher rate of speed.
“Probably. Though, I still stand by my comment that this was the best first date ever. I mean, skating, pizza…”
“Twisted ankles,” he contributes with a laugh.
Without hesitating, I move forward and wrap my arms around his waist. Resting my head against his shoulder, I can hear the beating of his heart vibrate through his body and smell the clean scent of his cologne. He smells so yummy. “Thank you,” I whisper, breathing him in.
Nick wraps his arms around my shoulders, our bodies pressed tightly together. In doing so, I can now feel something very hard and very large sandwiched between us. He’s either carrying a hammer in his pants or he’s a bit worked up. (Probably from when he was basically gripping my ass a few minutes ago.) The thought exhilarates me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. It’s that reminder that yes, I am a woman. One that is still desirable, if Nick’s reaction is any indication. “I can’t believe you’re thanking me,” he whispers. I can feel his breath on my head.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I ask, gazing up at him. “This was a great night.”
He smiles down at me, his hazel eyes turning a deeper shade of brown. “You’re right. It was a great night.”
Together, we skate off the floor to the bench where we have our shoes stashed. There’s a young couple, probably in their late teens, making out on one end. We sit down, careful not to disrupt the young lovebirds, and go about removing the skates. Every time I glance over at Nick, he’s looking at me, smiling as if he has a secret. I slip my wedge sandals onto my feet and dispose of the thin socks.
“Next time, we need to bring better socks,” I state, noticing a slight pink ring above my ankle where the skate rubbed against bare skin.
“Next time?” he asks, standing up in front of me after tossing his own disposable socks in the trash.
“Definitely. There should definitely be a next time.”
Nick wraps his arms around me in another hug. “Then there will definitely be a next time.” He places a kiss on my forehead and pulls me toward the door. “Come on,” he says, reaching down and taking my hand in his.
We walk out to his car, the gentle rustle of the breeze cooling my overly heated body. Yes, it was hot inside the rink, but that’s not the sole reason for my flushed state. I’m pretty sure my hot boss and what I felt pressed against my stomach a few minutes ago has a lot to do with my current condition.
He holds the passenger door open for me as I slide inside his vehicle. We’re both silent as he starts the car, but there’s no mistaking the third party riding alongside us: sexual tension. It’s been a long time since I felt this inundated, raw need rush my body, leaving me yearning for more.
It’s Nick. He makes me feel this way.
The ride back to Jupiter Bay passes just as quickly as the one to Cooper just a few short hours before. We talk about everything from favorite songs to movie remakes that we wished wouldn’t have been touched. It’s easy. Carefree. Comfortable.
But the moment his car pulls into my driveway, a weird sensation sweeps through me. Realization that our night is over settles in, leaving me a bit sad. I unbuckle my seat belt, but before I can open my door, he’s there, opening it for me. He rests his hand low on my back, and all I can think about is a sudden hope that he spins me around, pins me against the side of my house, and kisses me.
And I mean, kisses me. The kind that steals your breath and your sanity. That single amazing kiss that becomes branded in your brain. The one that you remember for the rest of your life.
Yes, I’ll never forget my first kiss with Josh. It was sweet and perfect.
But what I feel bubbling up inside of me is something completely different now. It’s the need to be taken, to be dominated. To let him take complete control over the kiss (and whatever may happen next). Am I ready for next? No. I already know that answer, but I’m getting there.
“Thank you for an amazing evening,” I say, turning and facing him when we reach the door.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he says, his eyes looking so much darker than ever before.
Nick steps forward, one hand snaking around my waist and resting on my lower back. His other hand comes up to cup my cheek. My breathing halts completely as I wait to see what happens next.
Kiss me, I beg.
Our eyes remain locked for what feels like forever. We have an entire conversation without saying a word. I can see everything swirling around from his own desire to his hesitation. We’re treading in muddy water right now, trapped somewhere between friends and coworkers. An undercurrent is pulling us straight toward the tide that could either bring us together or rip us apart.
It’s where friendship and coworkers still remains, but so does something more.
Lovers.
“I want to kiss you so badly,” he whispers, my blood swooshing in my ears and drowning out everything around me.
“I really, really want you to kiss me,” I say, and I do. I really, really do.
He moves slowly, much like he did when we were sprawled out on the floor at the skating rink, and I know he’s giving me the chance to change my mind. But what he doesn’t realize is that I won’t. I need this kiss as much as I need oxygen.
So he moves the rest of the way, until his lips touch mine. Neither one of us moves for a heartbeat as we savor the feel of the other. His lips are soft, just as I imagined, and little shockwaves of lust zip through my body.
Then, he starts to deepen the kiss and doesn’t disappoint. His hands grasp the sides of my face as he takes complete control of the moment. His tongue slides along the seam of my mouth, begging for entrance. The moment I open my mouth, I’m almost overwhelmed with sensations. I can feel him, taste him, smell him. I’ve never wanted someone, wanted something more than I do right now.
My arms wrap around his shoulders as I press my body against his. His shoulders are ridiculous, and the feel of those hard muscles beneath my fingers only seems to add fuel to an already burning desire. It takes everything I have not to climb him like a tree, wrapping my legs around his body, and swallowing him whole.
This is a kiss.
Before I have a chance to test out my tree-climbing skills, his lips start to slow. His open mouth outlines my lips as if he’s memorizing the way I feel. I want to invite him in, and I almost do, but something has me holding back just a little.
I’m almost there.
Nick places one last kiss on my swollen lips before pulling back. My eyes are still closed and I’m afraid to move. If I move, I may break the spell or wake up from this dream.
When I finally do open my eyes, he’s smiling at me, a look that conveys his excitement (and I’m not just talking about what was happening in his shorts. There was definitely something going on down there). He rubs the apple of my cheek with his thumb and whispers, “Best kiss ever.”
Definitely.
One hundred percent.
Best. Kiss. Ever.
I can’t even speak. He’s rendered me completely speechless. So I just smile up at him, letting him know that I agree wholeheartedly, and wouldn’t mind another round of tonsil hockey.
But Nick doesn’t catch my subliminal request for more kissing, which is slightly disappointing. Instead, he takes another step back, putting great distance between us. “Can I call you tomorrow?” he asks with a bit of hopefulness.
“Yes.”
I’m rewarded with a boyish grin as he turns to head down the steps. I should probably unlock my door, but I don’t want to move. I want to stay right here, watching him. When he reaches his car door, he
turns back my way. “I’m not leaving until you’re safely inside.”
“Well, then you might want to get comfortable,” I sass.
“Meghan,” he grumbles, my name a curse on his tongue. “Get inside.”
“Fine. Good night,” I reply with a smile, turning and unlocking my front door. Before I step over the threshold, I glance back his way one more time. He hasn’t moved, letting me know he’s not going anywhere until I’m safely tucked away behind locked doors.
I give him a wave and step inside, slowly closing the door behind me. As soon as the lock is engaged, I run over to the window, moving the blinds just enough to see his car through the cracks. He’s still standing there beside his car, smiling at the door I just closed. He looks happy, which in turn makes me feel elated.
I step away from the blinds and set my purse on the table. A pair of running shoes by the door catches my attention, but for the first time, instead of feeling that all-consuming sadness sweep over me, I smile. I grin at the shoes and at the memory of the kiss I just shared with Nick.
Am I healed?
Hell no.
But am I looking ahead, instead of over my shoulder?
Yes.
Nick did that. He’s making me feel again. And yes, that’s both exciting and completely terrifying, but I know that as long as he’s by my side, helping me, I feel almost invincible. Like I can do anything again.
Like I can live.
Chapter Eighteen
Nick
“What the hell are you swinging at, Bronson? That wasn’t even close to the strike zone, you fucking bum,” Sawyer hollers through the glass wall before bringing his beer bottle up to his lips.
The view from our Sky Suite at the ballpark is something. So is the language from the groom-to-be as he watches his former teammates on the Rangers get their asses handed to them by the Nationals. Of course, it doesn’t help that the current batter is the one he caught his ex-wife in bed with not too long after his career-ending shoulder injury.
“Tough game,” Stuart whispers beside me as we watch the Rangers continue their downward spiral in the fifth inning.