“I said I was sorry!”
“Jailbird.”
“What?”
“I’m fucking with you.”
I meet his eyes, which are now much softer and smiling at me. “Ass.”
“True.” He chuckles. “Thank you for coming here and telling me all of that. I appreciate you being honest with me. But don’t lie to me again. I hate being lied to. Even if you think it’s something I won’t want to hear, I would rather hear it. So, full disclosure from here on out. Okay?”
He’s still my friend. My happy heartbeat is a palpable force in my chest.
“Okay.” I smile. “Full disclosure.”
There’s a beat of silence between us.
“So, that guy…”
“Luke.”
“He’s your sponsor?”
“Yes.”
“And you guys aren’t…”
“No! God, no! That’s not allowed. Totally unethical. But, even if it weren’t…he’s not my type.”
“Oh. Well…who is your type?”
You, apparently.
Shit. I just agreed to full disclosure, no more lies. But I can’t tell him that he’s my type because I’m not his; it’d be awkward as hell, and then I’d definitely lose him as a friend.
I shrug with a noncommittal answer. “Uh…um…guys.”
His brow lifts. “What type of guys?”
Jesus. My whole body is getting hot. My face must be the color of a tomato right now.
“Ones who…don’t drink.”
“I don’t drink.”
“You don’t?”
I didn’t know that. We haven’t been anywhere where he would drink. But I just assumed he did. I don’t know why I thought that. He’s not exactly a fan of alcohol.
Alcoholics. You’re getting them confused, Ari.
“Nope,” he says.
“Okay…” I trail off.
“So, what other qualities do your type of guys have to have?”
“Why do you want to know?” I’m skirting the question because I can’t think of anything else to say that won’t expose my feelings for him.
“I’m curious.”
“You know what curiosity did—”
“I’ll take my chances.” He shrugs, a grin on his lips.
“Uh…” I rake my fingers into my messy bun, tugging on it. “They just have to…I don’t know. Like me. Like who I am. Baggage and all.”
He nods, his eyes holding mine. “You’re right. He should.”
My chest is starting to feel tight. I rub my hand over the ache.
“Do you want to know what my type is?” he asks.
Nope. Because the last thing I want to hear is you describe the exact opposite of me.
“Uh, sure.” I stop rubbing the ache and wrap my arm over my chest, ready to protect myself from the intentional blows he’s about to throw at me.
“Usually, I go for blondes. Tall. Leggy. You know the type.”
The exact opposite of me then.
I bite the inside of my cheek and make a sound of agreement.
“Women with zero baggage. Who aren’t too interested in commitment, as I’ve really never had time for a relationship—actually, no, that’s not right. What I should’ve said is that I’d never met anyone I wanted to make time to have a relationship with.”
I nod, still biting the inside of my cheek. I’m pretty sure it’s bleeding.
“But that’s changed now.”
“You’ve met someone?” I blurt out.
He nods, steady blue eyes holding mine. “Yes.”
Knife, meet my heart.
But, of course, this was going to happen at some point, if we were going to be friends. I mean, look at him, for God’s sake. He’s gorgeous, smart, and talented, and he has a good heart once you get past the assholery. It’s not like he was going to stay single forever. I guess I just didn’t expect it to happen quite so soon. And when the hell did he meet her? It’s not like he’s with me all the time, but this last week, we’ve spent quite a lot of time together at my place, watching Dexter. And, in that time, he’s never let on that there’s been anyone…a woman in his life.
Jesus.
God, just the thought of it hurts. What will it be like when I have to see him with her? She must be tall and beautiful and have her shit completely together. Unlike me.
I don’t think I can do this.
Yes, you can. You’re his friend. So, be his friend. Suck it up, Ari. It’s big-girl panties time.
“Wow. That’s great. I’m really happy for you.”
Okay, so that wasn’t so great. I sounded insincere as hell. And, if I could hear the insincerity in my voice, then he probably did, too.
But, if he did hear it, he doesn’t call me on it, which I’m grateful for.
“Well, don’t be too happy for me. She doesn’t know how I feel yet…and she might not feel the same way.”
She will. Trust me.
“I’m sure she will. You should tell her.” I nearly bite through my lip when I say that.
Why did I say that?
“You’re right.” He nods, still staring at me. Actually, he hasn’t moved his eyes off me once since this whole conversation started. “It’s funny though,” he continues, “because of what I said before—you know, about what my usual type is. Well, this girl is the exact opposite of that. She’s brunette. Short as hell. Filthy mouth on her. Has baggage bigger than JFK. We do, however, share the same taste in movies and music—well, apart from NSYNC…”
I suck in a sharp breath.
He can’t mean…
Was Luke right that Ares might see me as more than a friend?
Surely not.
“Actually, she looks and sounds an awful lot like you.”
Holy shit.
“I-I don’t…understand.”
He pushes off the counter, walking over to me. He takes the glass from my trembling hand, setting it on the window ledge. Then, he takes my face in his hands, tilts it up to his, and stares down into my eyes. “Then, let me make it very simple for you.” And he leans down and covers my mouth with his.
Ares Kincaid is kissing me.
He’s kissing me.
Actually, mouth on mine, kissing me.
Duh. Where else would he be kissing you? Well, there are other places…
Nope. Not going to go there. Because I’ll definitely get my panties in a twist if I do.
I just…can’t believe this is happening. One minute, I’m thinking he’s into some other woman…and then this.
But it is happening.
Holy hell, it’s happening.
It’s his tongue sweeping my bottom lip before slipping into my mouth. His hands on my face.
It’s everything I imagined and more.
I know there’s the stupid, gimmicky romance trope of feeling electricity and butterflies, but, God, his mouth on mine is all of those things and more.
My whole body is aware of his in a way I’ve never experienced before.
Maybe I haven’t felt this way before because I was drinking. I always thought it brought my senses to life, but maybe it was dulling them.
Or maybe it is just him.
Because this, being here with Ares…this feeling, right here, this is what it’s like to feel alive.
One hand leaves my face and pulls my hair free of the tie. The other hand slides down until it’s cupping my chin.
His kiss slows. Lips brushing once…twice.
Hot breath on my skin.
I open my eyes. His are on mine, hot and dilated.
“Do you understand now?” His voice is gravelly and oh-so very sexy, making my womanly parts tremble.
A grin pulls up one side of my mouth. “I’m starting to. But I think I need you to tell me again. But more thoroughly this time.” I tug his mouth back down to mine and feel his smile against my lips, and it’s the greatest thing ever.
Two very large hands slide down my back, cup my ass, and pick me up, settin
g me on the windowsill. My back is pressed against the glass. He’s in front of me. And there’s nowhere else I would want to be right now.
“That’s better,” he murmurs against my lips, shifting closer, putting himself between my legs. “You’re so small.”
Something very hard and very large presses up against my stomach.
Sweet Lord, that’s one hell of a boner he’s rocking there.
“You’re big.”
Jesus effing Christ.
I mentally roll my eyes so hard; I almost give myself a headache.
“Thank you.” He chuckles into my mouth.
“I meant, height.”
“Of course you did.”
“But you do seem big…down there.”
“I am.”
Well, there you go.
His hand slides up my side, brushing the underside of my breast, making me moan.
My hands go to his chest.
Holy shit.
Rock-hard muscle beneath smooth skin.
He’s hard everywhere.
And I am a lucky, lucky girl.
I run my fingertips through the smattering of hair on his chest, tracing one of his nipples, and he shivers.
Then, he kisses me harder. One hand plunges into my hair, tilting my head back, taking control of the kiss, and I am more than willing to let him take over. The other hand skims the hem of my T-shirt, fingers running under the hem, brushing against my skin, making it my turn to shiver.
I slide my hands around his back and down to his ass and squeeze.
He has a great ass. A really, really great ass. It’s as firm as it looks.
His fingers are still teasing the skin of my stomach, driving me crazy.
I want him to touch me. Everywhere.
“Touch me, please,” I whisper.
He groans, biting down on my bottom lip before licking the sting away, as his hand finds its way up my shirt and cups my breast over my bra.
The first brush of his thumb over my nipple has my hips pushing forward, seeking pressure, which he willingly gives me, pressing his dick against me. Then, he starts to move his hips, thrusting up and down.
Well, this went from naught to a hundred pretty quickly.
Not that I’m complaining.
“Fuck,” he chokes out as we start dry-humping the shit out of each other. “You feel so fucking good.”
His hand has now left my hair and is gripping my hip, fingers digging in me in the most delicious way, holding me in place. I’m just holding on to him for dear life. The feelings running through me right now are indescribable.
“You’re incredible, Ari. So goddamn beautiful. But we have to stop.”
“Wha…” I manage to get out as he wrenches away from me.
He’s back against the counter, hands gripping the edge, like he’s afraid to let go, chest heavy with breaths.
And I’m panting like a dog in heat. Legs trembling. Body in an outcry at his absence.
Shit, does he regret what just happened?
“No, I don’t regret it,” he says like he just read my mind.
“I never said anything,” I counter innocently.
“I could read it all over your face.”
Okay. So, maybe I’m easy to read at times.
“So…why’d you stop?” I ask quietly.
“Because I was about three seconds away from fucking you on my windowsill, and the first time we do this…have sex…I want you to be a hundred percent with me.”
“I am a hundred percent with you.” I think I always have been.
“Glad to hear it. But you’ve had one hell of a day, babe. And, when we do this, the only thing I want you thinking about is me, you, and the way I’m making you feel. And call me old-fashioned, but I’d kinda like to take you out on a date before we get to the sex.”
I can’t contain my smile. He wants to take me out on a date.
“Okay. And when will this date take place?”
“Tomorrow night, if you’re free. The Big Lebowski is showing again. I was thinking I could take you out for dinner and then to the movies.”
A date with Ares Kincaid. Who’d have thought it?
“I’m free.” Even if I weren’t, I’d cancel my plans for him. “But, just so I’m clear on this…it’s just the one date before we get to the fucking?”
He laughs, and it’s deep and throaty; it lights me up inside.
“What do you think?”
I think I’m getting laid tomorrow night.
Ares has seen me soaking wet, wearing only a bra and pants. He’s seen me in just a towel, for God’s sake.
So, why is it taking me forever to decide what to wear for our date? Which he’s picking me up for in fifteen minutes.
Argh!
Because this is different. You’re actually going out on a date. There’s going to be more kissing. And then later, sex.
Holy cannoli!
I honestly still can’t believe this is happening.
That he likes me. That he wants me in this way.
It’s crazy. The best kind of crazy.
I don’t know what changed his mind or when he realized that his feelings for me were more than just friends, but I don’t care. Because he wants me.
Okay, maybe I care a little.
I know how he feels about alcoholics. And I still am one.
But I just need to not focus on that right now. I need to focus on what to wear.
I turn back to my closet.
Okay, so we’re going for an early dinner and then to the cinema. So, nothing too dressy.
Pants maybe?
I rifle through my closet and pull out my white ripped jeans. I could wear these.
What with?
I rummage through my tops and pull out my loose, silky bright blue tank top. The color reminds me of Ares’s eyes. Perfect.
I go to my underwear drawer and get out my nicest white lacy underwear. I’m going for virginal.
Ha! Like that’s even a remote possibility.
But the white will go better under my clothes.
So, white it is.
I take off my robe and put my underwear on, remembering just why I love this bra because of the boost it gives to my boobs. It makes them look fuller and gives me nice cleavage, which will look good with this tank.
I pull my jeans on. Put the tank on.
I decide on my highest black heels. I need the height with this guy.
I put on my gold chain, which sits nicely in my cleavage, bringing the eye to it.
I spritz my favorite perfume, J’adore, on my neck, wrists, and onto my already-done hair, which is down and curled around my shoulders. My makeup is on and light. Focus being on my lips, which are painted with my new favorite lipstick shade, Matte Raspberry.
I’ve just put my lipstick, wallet, and cell into my bag when there’s a knock at my door.
He’s here.
My heart takes off at a rapid pace.
I take my bag with me into the living room, grab my leather jacket and slip it on, and then open the door.
Hells bells, he looks good.
I mean, he always looks good, but this…is something different.
He’s dressed up—not that he normally looks scruffy, but he’s clearly made an effort. His hair is styled. His jaw is clean-shaven. He’s wearing a dark gray blazer with a black button-down shirt beneath it, dark blue jeans, and black biker boots on his feet.
Maybe he looks different to me because I’m looking at him through new eyes now.
I’m looking at him as more than a friend.
I get to kiss this guy.
I’m quite likely going to see him naked later and do all the good stuff with him.
That definitely changes everything, like how I now view him.
“Hi,” he says, voice deep and raspy. “You look beautiful, Ari.”
“So do you. Hot. Gorgeous, I mean.” For fuck’s sake.
He chuckles and then leans down and presses his lips to m
ine, tongue ever so lightly coming out to touch mine.
“Mmm,” he murmurs. “You taste good, too.”
He’s going to kill me, I swear.
“You sure you don’t want to skip the date and just get to the sex?”
He laughs a throaty sound, and I have to squeeze my thighs together.
He moves his lips to my ear. “Anyone ever tell you, the longer you wait to have something…someone, the better it will be?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s, Great things come to those who don’t wait.” I smile cheekily.
He chuckles again. Then, he kisses me. One quick, firm kiss that leaves me aching.
“You ready?” he asks, and I nod. He slips his hand into mine. “Let’s go do our date, so we can come back here…and I can make you come. Multiple times.”
Sweet Lord.
He leads me out of my apartment building and to his truck. He opens the door for me, and I get inside. I’ve gotten much better at climbing in this beast, and the high heels definitely help.
I buckle myself in and ask, “So, where are we eating?”
He shifts to look at me. “There’s this Thai place in East Village. It’s nothing fancy, but—”
“I was sold at Thai. And I don’t need fancy.”
“You deserve fancy. I just…I know you don’t go to bars, for the obvious reason, and I didn’t know if the same went for restaurants because they all serve fucking alcohol, but this Thai restaurant doesn’t have a liquor license. It’s one of those bring-your-own-booze restaurants, so there will be alcohol there, but they have outdoor seating, and you can’t drink out there, so…”
He’s babbling. Ares never babbles. And I feel bad that my problem with alcohol is causing him a problem. But I also love that he cares.
“Ares”—I place my hand over his—“I’m going to love it. I’ll be there with you, and that’s all I care about.”
His eyes meet mine, and I smile at him.
He turns his hand over, palm up, and links his fingers with mine.
Hand-holding. So simple. But so incredibly thrilling.
The touch of that one single part of his body against mine is sending my hormones haywire.
My hand looks tiny compared to his, but I don’t care. It makes me feel feminine. And I like the feeling.
He lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it. “I’m sorry, Ari.” His lips brush my skin as he speaks, “I didn’t see you the moment we met, and I’m so fucking sorry for that.”