We haven’t consumed an abundance of alcohol by anyone’s standards, but Robyn’s eyes are begging to take on that buzzed vacant haze of someone bordering on being too inebriated to turn up to work, and I’d hate to be the reason she found herself in trouble with her employers.
“Let’s walk off some of these drinks,” I tell her, pointing out toward the park. “We’ll grab some water and hopefully douse the effects before you have to work.”
“That actually sounds like a really good plan. This Martini has pretty much gone straight to my head. I guess I should have eaten before I came here.”
I look down at my watch. It’s 6:15 and I’m betting that she’s skipped out on eating lunch as well as dinner, given how quickly the alcohol has taken effect. She’s a tiny little thing anyway; she could certainly afford to carry a few extra pounds and maintain her stunning form.
“That does it,” I grin. “We’re heading through the park and I’ll buy you dinner before you have to leave.”
“That’s really sweet, Cole, but I don’t have time—” I cut her off as I take her hand and pull her up from the table.
“Sure you do, follow me.”
She looks down at her cell in contemplation.
“I’m not dragging you off to murder you, don’t look so pensive. I promise I won’t make you late…unless you want me to, of course.” I wink and she slaps my arm playfully before yielding to my request. I drop enough cash to cover our check and leave a healthy tip for our server before we turn to walk up the stairs and through the ornate iron gates out into the park.
I take her hand, lacing our fingers together before I realize what I’m doing. She looks down at our joined hands and I stiffen a little, feeling far too presumptuous assuming this would be okay. It wasn’t a conscious decision to hold her hand, but the prospect of having to let it go now is more than a little depressing.
Her huge, chocolate doe eyes flick up to meet mine, and I prepare to apologize and loosen my grip, but instead of breaking our connection, she smiles wistfully and looks ahead, her hand still firmly in mine.
“It’s nice walking through the park; I don’t do it enough,” I admit and she seems surprised by my admission.
“I love the park. I run in here most days, although I haven’t for a while. It’s best early in the morning before it’s taken over by tourists and the hustle and bustle of people wanting to enjoy a little sanctuary from the concrete jungle,” she tells me, gently swinging our hands back and forth as we walk.
I used to come here with my dad and brother, before the divorce. Every weekend we would spend the day in the park, just the three of us while Mom got to enjoy the peace and quiet of our house without three rowdy boys watching sports and demanding snacks every half hour. I don’t remember the last time we spent any real quality time together, just the three of us. I make a mental note to call Dad and get it organized when I have some free time.
“Here we are…our restaurant for the evening.” I point to a large smooth boulder and Robyn’s eyes crinkle in confusion. It’s ridiculously cute. I point to the hot dog vendor fifty feet away, and she smiles in understanding.
“You find us a good spot and I’ll go grab dinner. What would you like? There’s hotdogs or hotdogs.”
“I can’t decide, surprise me,” she smirks.
I return a few minutes later with our hotdogs and two bottles of water.
“You know this is the best thing about New York right here,” I say around a mouth full of bread.
“What, hotdogs?”
“Damn straight hotdogs, they just don’t make them the same anywhere else.”
“Hmm,” she murmurs. “I could take them or leave them.”
“What!” I swallow my food and pin her with a serious look. “We can’t be friends if you don’t share my affinity for street food, sorry.”
She giggles and bumps my shoulder with her own. My statement had the desired effect: I wanted to make her smile, but I didn’t count on how disarming that smile would be. I’m overtaken with an immense yearning to kiss her, and if her expression were anything to go by, I’d say she’s reading my thoughts at this very moment. Her smile fades as her lips part in the slightest movement. She’s staring at me, waiting for my next move, and I know the instant she catches my gaze drop to her mouth by the hitch of her breath. I lean forward, knowing that she doesn’t want a relationship, knowing that she’s not over her ex-boyfriend and knowing that I’d assured her I just wanted to be friends. But the urge to press my lips against hers—it’s colossal. I’m a strong-willed man, but my tenacity lay in a shattered pool at my feet, disregarded and forgotten as I close the small distance separating us. Without care or regard for anything other than satisfying the primal need to possess this woman, I press my mouth against hers as lightly as I can muster, given that I want to completely devour her right here in the park.
Her lips are soft and warm and for the briefest of seconds, unmoving. There’s just enough time for me to come to my senses and realize that I’ve overstepped the mark, but then something dreamlike happens. I feel her mouth begin to respond to mine, so slowly, so painfully gentle that I’m almost too afraid to increase the pressure. I test the waters, and trace my tongue along her bottom lip and it falls open, granting me access to heaven. My hand finds the back of her neck and then suddenly there’s no one else here, only us as I deepen the kiss and am rewarded with the sweetest groan of appreciation. My exploration comes to an abrupt end when I register her hand pushing at my chest as she pulls her head away panting.
Fuck.
“I-I can’t, we shouldn’t,” she stammers and my heart sinks to my feet.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” I struggle out. It’s a lie, of course. I know exactly what came over me. I’ve been desperate to kiss her since we first met, I just haven’t acted on the ridiculous impulse to do it until now. She looks confused, but not upset at least, and I let that soothe my conscience as I back away, giving her room to breathe.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she whispers.
“Well, if you want this what’s stopping you?” It’s a bold question, but I ask it with enough reverence for it not to sound jarring.
She lets out a bemused huff. “I don’t even know, timing, I guess.”
Her head turns as she looks away, and I stare at the side of her face, wondering what to say to bring back the playfulness of a few minutes ago. The atmosphere is suddenly too oppressive for an afternoon in the park with a beautiful woman.
“It’s no secret that I like you, Robyn, and I think maybe you like me the same way too, but you feel it would just be easier if you didn’t. We don’t have to label what we’re doing, if you don’t want to. We’re capable, astute adults. Why can we not enjoy each other’s company and see it for just that? Timing isn’t everything. Let’s not burden ourselves with what we think we should be doing, and just enjoy what we are doing. The moment we don’t, we can stop?”
“Why do I get the feeling that you’ve just pitched me the whole ‘friends with benefits’ scenario, only more eloquently.”
I laugh and shrug. “I didn’t realize I had, but now that you’ve put it out there, I guess it could have been misconstrued that way. I’m not looking for a cheap hookup when the mood takes me, and I’m not asking for no-strings sex. That’s not what I meant. In a perfect world, I’d like to date you, begin a real relationship, but you’ve told me you’re not in that place right now, and I respect that. I like you. I’d like to see more of you, and I’m not going to lie and tell you that I don’t want to kiss the living hell out of you. But I’m happy to keep things like this if that’s what you want. A kind of suspended relationship that covers spending time together, a few stolen kisses and the occasional boob grope,” I tease. “I’m willing to wait out this timing issue if you are.”