“Bet your ass it’s what I’m thinking.” His hands cupped my butt, pulling me close, just as his lips crushed down on mine.
I wasn’t entirely sure what came over me after that. I would like to blame the wine and Dalton’s tormenting caresses. One moment my feet were planted on the floor, and the next I was scaling his body like some damned horny monkey climbing a tree. Maybe it was his soft lips, or his large hands that were more than willing to get me where I wanted to be.
There was nothing tentative about our first kiss. It was hot and consuming like a forest fire. His tongue took control of my mouth like he owned it. My own tongue responded boldly as the heady taste of the wine he’d consumed teased my taste buds. Dalton’s hands held me in place as I moved against him. I was close to the point of no return when the sound of a clearing throat behind us finally broke through my wine-induced sexual intoxication. Heat crept up my neck as Dalton slowly lowered me back to the floor and turned toward the manager, who looked less than pleased.
I had tunnel vision as the manager escorted us on a walk of shame out the front door. The cold air sobered me up quickly. Neither Dalton nor I said anything as we walked to his car, but I was quite sure my face was as red as a tomato. Dalton was still a gentleman, holding the car door open and then closing it once I was seated. I looked out the window so I wouldn’t have to see his face as he climbed in and adjusted his seat belt. My actions were completely mortifying. To say I had behaved like a dog in heat would have been putting it mildly. Sex-starved prisoner would have been more accurate. I had totally made Dalton my prison bitch.
An unexpected bubble of laughter rose up my throat even though I was still embarrassed. I tried to clamp it down, but it escaped nevertheless. Dalton joined me in laughing. At least we could both appreciate the humor of the situation. It took several minutes to get it out of our systems. Tears streaked down my cheeks, and my stomach ached from laughing so hard.
“So, I guess we can never go back there,” I finally choked out.
“I would think not, but hey, they got a good show.”
“You’re not embarrassed or mortified like I am?”
“Embarrassed? Are you kidding? Erotic—yes. Mortifying—no.”
His words heated me from the inside out. Erotic. The word was heavy with meaning. “Come on. You weren’t even the slightest bit embarrassed when the manager escorted us out?”
“Hell to the no. I just wish we would have been in a less conspicuous place, because I’m interested in how far it would have gone if we hadn’t been interrupted.” He winked at me, making me blush again. There it was, hanging out there like a golden carrot. Did he know how close I had been to the big O? Only the fact that he had called the experience erotic saved him from getting a sock in the arm.
“Yeah, well, I don’t normally act like that on a first date.”
“Technically this is our second date. I was expecting to get to second base tonight.”
“Oh Lord. I’d say we came pretty damned close in there.”
“A few seconds more and it would have been a home run,” he teased. Little did he know how close to the truth his words were.
“Didn’t you say your mom taught you to be a gentleman? A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“That was a whole lot more than kissing, sweet stuff,” he murmured, resting his hand on mine. “If it helps, I was just as into it as you.”
“That does help a little.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Definitely. Maybe if I’d eaten before I drank a gallon of wine, I wouldn’t have tried to devour you.”
“So you’re telling me if I want to round more bases I shouldn’t feed you?” he teased, merging into the far right lane toward the highway exit. No more than a couple miles up the road, he pulled into the parking lot of a popular Italian restaurant.
“Are you allowed to talk about baseball so much when you’re a basketball player?”
“Good question. I can count on you to keep my secret, right?” He closed his door and walked around the front of the car to hold my door open. I had to admit, I was already getting used to that routine. He pulled me up from the seat so I was facing him with his long arms bracketing me on either side.
“Hmm, I don’t know. That’s an awfully big secret to keep. What do I get?” My eyes moved to his lips. Here we were in yet another public place and all I could think about was jumping on him again. He must have had the same thoughts since he lowered his mouth to mine. This time the kiss was probably what our first attempt should have been. It was tender and sweet and slow. So slow I thought I would melt into a puddle at his feet.
After a moment, he pulled away. “Are you sure you’re hungry?”
“Yes. No.” My words were a jumbled mess. “Wait, doesn’t food fuel the brain? I think I might need that. I’m still feeling a little bit tipsy from the wine.”
“Are you sure it’s the wine you’re feeling?”
“Nope. Not at all,” I answered as he put his arm around me and led me toward the restaurant.
The innuendos and sexual tension that still radiated between us made dinner a very pleasant experience. Our conversation flowed easily as we exchanged first date bios. We caught up on things we had missed out on while we weren’t friends. A lot of what he said I already knew since I had basically watched him from afar over the years. I almost regretted admitting that juicy tidbit considering how thrilled he looked.
Eventually the conversation moved to our classes. We each had professors who were particularly difficult.
I was happy to hear that Dalton didn’t have classes like Intro to Basket Weaving. I’d heard that the school went easy on student athletes where academics were concerned. But Dalton definitely took his classes seriously and was smart. He was majoring in business, because he thought it would help him later in life after basketball ended or if, God forbid, it didn’t work out for him. He was definitely realistic about the future. Not that it dimmed his aspirations.
I was no different except for our goals. He had NBA dreams, while I wanted to secure a position in a museum where I could pore over art all day. One of Dalton’s admirable qualities was that he wasn’t afraid of hard work, especially if it got him to where he wanted to be.
Our conversation turned playful when we started talking about animals. We both preferred dogs to cats. I confessed that my feelings weren’t based on actual experience, since I’d never owned my own pet. Dalton had a tough time wrapping his brain around that one.
“So you never got a pet? Not even a gerbil or a goldfish?”
“Nope. Not even a stray cat. You remember the apartment complex Mom and I lived in. They always had a ‘no pets’ policy.”
“That’s right. I do remember that. That sucks. My parents gave me Riley for Christmas the year I turned fifteen. It was instant love. Right after our dog, Gretchen, died. Do you remember her?”
I nodded. I did remember Gretchen. She was the closest I ever came to having a pet of my own.
“She was a great dog, but Riley’s special.”
“Like runs-into-the-walls-and-tries-to-eat-his-own-tail special?” I teased.
“He has been known to chase his own tail, but that doesn’t mean he’s not wicked smart. Take his fixation with my mom’s shoes and no one else’s for example. We all feel he blames her for sending me away to college.” He pulled his phone out to show me a picture of a beautiful golden retriever gnawing on a woman’s pump.
“Maybe he just likes the taste of the leather of her shoes better. You’re going to have to give me more than that.”
He tapped his chin for a moment, thinking. “Got it. Riley can play basketball.”
“Hmm, resorting to fibbing now?” I asked after he paid the check and helped me into my jacket.
“No, seriously. He’s a good shot.”