I try to push past him, but he slides his hands to my face. "Please don't leave. I've been looking forward to this date all day. I did everything I could to get here on time and I know I'm late, but I'm here. So can we please start over? Can we pretend I said the date started at ten past nine and I'm perfectly on time and you're really excited to see where I'm taking you?"
He's looking back and forth between my eyes desperately. He's really kind of endearing on top of all that cockiness. What a deadly combination.
Shit.
I force a smile. "Where are you taking me?"
He grins. "Thank you," he says, his whole face breaking out into a smile. "It's a surprise. And we're walking there, is that okay?"
I nod and try to move past the fact that he's so late. Lots of things could have happened to make him half an hour late and he's right. He's here, so it obviously wasn't intentional. I probably shouldn't be so hard on him.
He reaches down and laces his fingers through mine. To him, it's probably a very casual move that he does with every girl he takes out. But to me, it's way more than casual. It's monumental. It's the second time I've ever held hands with a guy. The first was when I was twelve, so I don't even know if that counts.
"You look amazing," he says, switching hands so he can walk backward a few steps and admire my dress. His eyes rake down my body, pause at the hem against my thighs, and then drag back up again until he's looking at my eyes. He smiles and then switches hands again, falling back into step with me.
"When I saw you in that dress for the first time, I couldn't sit still in class. I tried to catch up with you when class was over, but I lost you in the hallway."
I smile. "I didn't notice."
He laughs a little bit. "You don't notice a lot of things, Sloan. Trust me."
"Like what?"
He gives me a sidelong glance. "Oh, just the fact that every goddamn male in history class can't keep their fucking eyes off you. Me included."
I definitely would have noticed if he ever stared at me. "You're delusional."
He shrugs his shoulders. "I'd rather be delusional and on a date with you than sane and with any other girl in the world."
That shuts me up. I don't know whether to be flattered by the things he's saying or insulted. He's so smooth; I'm positive he's used every line in his book on more than one girl, more than once. I'm not special to him.
So why are the things he's saying having such an effect on me?
My stomach is in knots and it's getting really hot, despite the fact that it's kind of chilly out and I'm in a sleeveless dress.
But seriously. Attraction is what gets girls in trouble with guys like him, obviously. I know his lines are as genuine as a dollar bill with Kanye West on the front of it, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the compliments a little. Even if this goes nowhere, it's still fun hearing them for a few hours.
I should try to just enjoy it. I've gone so long without doing the things other girls my age do, I should just enjoy this tonight, even though in the back of my mind I know it's all just attraction. He doesn't know me at all--he just knows he likes the way this dress looks on me.
He finally says, "It's at the end of this street."
I've gone to this college for most of the semester and I've never been on this road before. It's cute. Christmas lights in the trees, even though it's nowhere near Christmas. There's music playing, coming from speakers attached to the light posts. I can see the restaurant at the end of the street and I'm a little disappointed we're almost finished walking. It's been a while since I've taken the time to enjoy some fresh air.
I wonder what we're going to talk about while we eat? And if that's all we're doing is eating and then parting ways? I've never been on a date, so I don't know all the steps.
"What's your favorite part of dates?" I ask him, trying to get some information from him while not appearing as clueless as I am.
He glances at me and smiles. "The kiss, Sloan. Definitely the kiss."
So that's happening tonight?
I suddenly don't have an appetite because I lose it to nerves. He's going to be so disappointed when my tongue has no idea what to do inside his mouth.
I clear my throat. "Does that always happen at the very end of a date?"
"That all depends on the couple. Sometimes it happens during. Sometimes it doesn't happen at all. Sometimes it happens at the beginning."
Wouldn't that be nice? Getting it over with?
"When do you predict ours will happen?" I smile and wonder if it's obvious that I'm flirting with him. He pulls on my hand, making a sharp left between two buildings. We're still about thirty feet from the restaurant, so I'm taken aback that we're taking a detour.
We're in an alley now. A very narrow, empty one. He turns to face me and I gasp when I see the look in his eyes. His hands meet my hips and then my back meets the wall of the building.
"I think now is a good time," he says, right before his mouth connects with mine. My hands clench his shirt in two tight, nervous fists. His tongue slides against my tight lips and it practically causes me to melt against him. My lips part and I sigh, just as his tongue touches mine.
I don't even feel nervous anymore. An instinct kicks in that I didn't even know existed, and I just follow where his kiss takes me. Stroke for stroke, breath for breath, I do everything he does. I'm pretty sure I have the hang of it after about thirty seconds, but as soon as I'm positive, his mouth leaves mine.
He presses his hands into the wall behind me, and the side of his head meets mine. I can feel his quick breaths crash against my ear. I'm glad he's not looking at me, because I'm smiling.
That was nice. It wasn't nearly as intimidating as I thought it would be. I'm feeling so confident, I have no idea why I blurt out, "That was my first kiss," because I instantly feel him tense against me and I regret saying it.
He pulls back, his dark eyes even more intense after our kiss. "You're kidding, right?"
I should laugh and say of course. Instead, I shake my head.
"You've never been with a guy?"
I shake my head again. "No."
He tilts his head while he stares down at me. "Is it some weird religious thing?"
I laugh. "No. Not at all. I'm not a prude or saving myself for marriage for any particular reason. I've just been...busy. My whole life I've been busy from morning to night. I've never had a free second to date."
He stares at me disbelievingly then says, "So... you've never been touched by a guy? Or kissed? Any guy?"
Again, I shake my head. "Never. This was the first. You...kissing me. That's the most experience I've had. So don't judge me too harshly if I sucked at it."
He releases a very slow, deliberate breath. "Holy fuck." Then his mouth is immediately back on mine, much harder this time. It catches me off guard for a moment, but it doesn't take long to catch up with him.
He's devouring me now, kissing me desperately, pressing himself against me. I throw my arms around his neck because the intensity of this kiss is making me feel less stable. My body is growing so weak; I can't even rely on it anymore to hold me up.
I can't keep up with him. I'm gasping for breath as he kisses down my chin, down my neck, back up to my mouth again. His hands are in my hair and then mine are in his. He groans as he releases my hair and bends down, grabbing my legs and lifting me, sliding me up the wall a few inches.
It's amazing how different our second kiss is from the first.
I wonder what the third one will be like.
He wraps my legs around him and he slides his hands up my thighs until he's gripping me beneath my dress, making sure I'm stable against the wall. When his lips meet my neck again, I let my head fall back against the building. "Asa," I whisper. "We probably need to eat at some point."
I feel him laugh against my neck. "I know," he mutters. "I can't help it. Knowing you're...that you...fuck, Sloan. I can't stop kissing you. I'm trying." His mouth is against my neck again and then my focus i
s no longer on the food or the kiss. It's on the way my legs are wrapped around him, the way our bodies are fused together, the way I just started moving against him to feel things I've never felt before.
"Jesus Christ," I whisper, wrapping myself around him even tighter.
"I thought it wasn't a religious thing."
His comment makes me laugh against his kiss. My laugh makes him groan and then he's lifting me off the wall, placing me on my feet. He kisses me on the forehead and then pulls back and presses his forehead to mine, staring down at me. He laces his hand through mine, and without saying anything else, he pulls me out of the alley and toward the restaurant.
I don't know if it's because it's so late at night or if the restaurant isn't very good, but when we walk through the door, we're the only ones here. The host comes out of a back room and grabs two menus. He's older than us, about mid-thirties. "Thought you'd never make it," he says to Asa.
Asa shrugs. "We got held up."
The guy nods and points to a room leading off the main dining area. "Right this way."
We're led into another empty room, all the way to the left. There's a circular booth tucked privately in the corner, complete with a bottle of wine already on ice and two wine glasses. I want to point out that I'm not old enough to drink, but I get the feeling that it wouldn't make a difference.
Asa lets me slide in first and then he's right next to me, his hand on my knee. The guy sets our menus in front of us and then proceeds to open the bottle of wine and pours us both a glass.
I hardly ever drink, but tonight seems like a good enough occasion. Especially if no one is going to card me. Asa picks up his glass like he wants to toast me, so I pick up mine when he says, "To first kisses. First dates. And first...whatever the hell else you allow me to have."
I laugh. "Dessert, at least." We clink our glasses together and then I taste the wine. It's not sweet like I expected it to be, but I like it. When I set my glass down, Asa leans in and kisses me on the corner of the mouth.
"Maybe I should have waited until the end of the date to kiss you."
"Why?"
"Because it's all I can think about now. But there's so much I don't know about you and I should be a good date and ask you a million questions."
I feel like there's not much about my life worth talking about. At all.
"I'm eighteen," I say. "My birthday is next month. I have a mom that should have been required to pass a test before birthing children. I have a brother I love dearly. Now you already know more about me than any other guy in existence. How's that?"
He watches me a moment, his gaze locked on mine. "I like you." And then we're back to kissing.
Slow kissing this time as his fingers explore my outer thigh. Through all the kissing, we've somehow completely turned toward each other in the booth. The only thing that tears us apart is the presence of the waiter clearing his throat.
"Do you know what you'd like to eat?" he asks.
Asa laughs before pulling away from me. "Fuck yes," he says. "In the meantime we'll both take the special."
The waiter nods and walks away.
I take a few more sips of my wine while Asa does the same. "You just ordered for me? What if I don't like the special?"
He smiles. "Then I'll order you something else." His mouth returns to mine and we start kissing again. This time, his hands get braver. Or maybe the wine makes me less resistant.
We kiss for so long, I don't even notice his hand moved to the inside of my thigh. His fingers are slowly stroking up and down, in circles, getting more and more daring. I think he's doing it because I gasp every time he gets to the top of my thigh, near my panties.
"Asa," I whisper.
He shakes his head. "I know. I know what you're about to say. I'll slow down."
And he does for a while, but that may only be because our food comes.
It's Indian. Lucky for him, Indian is my favorite. We try to eat without interruption, but he leans in every now and then to brush his lips against my jaw or my ear. Every time he does it, I have to drink more wine.
I'm on my third glass when we're finished eating and he orders a dessert. He requests it not to come for at least fifteen minutes, though. I could be on my fourth glass of wine now. I'm not sure.
All I know is that kissing feels good. Great. So much more than I imagined it would feel, especially being my first experience with it.
I freeze with that thought. What if I'm letting him do too much? I don't know. I have no idea what eighteen-year-olds do at this age in restaurants with guys who seem to know exactly the right words and the right way to move their mouth against yours.
"What's wrong?" he asks, pulling back. I try to focus on his eyes, but my focus is on his hand that's on my thigh again, still inching up.
"I..." I blow out a quick breath. "I don't know. I think maybe we should slow down."
His fingers trail a slow circle over my thigh and I feel so much, I have no idea how I can possibly be asking him to slow down right now. But I should. I shouldn't be allowing him to touch me like this yet.
Should I?
"Sloan," he says, brushing his thumb over my cheek with his other hand. "Do you not like the way you feel right now? Does this not feel good to you?"
I nod. "Yes, but...we just kissed for the first time an hour ago. I feel like I'm letting it get too far."
His nose brushes mine and then he pulls back again. "Funny, because I feel like I'm not taking it far enough."
"But..." I close my eyes. "I feel stupid for having to ask this." I open them again. "Is this normal? Like...am I being too...slutty?"
I can feel the laughter in his chest. He presses his mouth to mine and then pulls back. His eyes are playful and the look on his face is endearing. "You're a grown woman, Sloan. If it feels good to you, that's all that matters. This date is our date, not anyone else's." He kisses my jaw. "Do you want me to stop kissing you?"
I shake my head. "Not really. No."
His mouth reaches my ear. "Good. I don't want to stop. And that doesn't make you slutty, Sloan. It's kind of hard to be a whore when you've only ever kissed one guy, right?"
His logic makes sense. Kind of. I think. I feel woozy.
His fingers begin moving on my thigh again. He pulls back and he's biting his bottom lip. My eyes focus on his mouth. His teeth release the pressure against his lip and he smiles at me.
"The only thing you need to worry about is if the way I touch you feels good. Okay?"
I exhale and nod, just as his fingers begin to crawl the rest of the way up my thigh. "Do you feel good right now?" he whispers.
I let my head fall back against the booth. "Yes," I whisper, my breaths heavy. My whole body jerks when his fingers meet my panties. He's not kissing me. He's watching me, his eyes focused on my mouth as he drags a finger up my center, outside my panties. It causes me to shudder.
"How about that?" he whispers. "Does that make you feel good?"
I try to say yes, but I can only whimper instead.
I think about the fact that we're in public. I think about the fact that our waiter is bringing us dessert in a few minutes. I think about the fact that I shouldn't be acting like this, right here, right now.
But then I think why not?
His lips barely touch mine when he says, "I need you to reaffirm this for me. No guy has ever touched you like this?" His fingers meet the edge of my panties and he hooks his fingers inside and pulls at the fabric. I gasp when he says, "No one knows what you feel like?"
My heart is beating in every part of me, but my pulse is throbbing between my legs, wanting him to be the first to touch me, but fighting my conscience as it tells me that shouldn't happen here. But I'm so relieved that he's not turned off by my inexperience. If anything, he might even be turned on by it. That's not something I expected.
"No one, Asa," I whisper. "No one has ever touched me like this. You're the only one."
He exhales heavily, and I realize I'm right. He
likes that he's the first. He might even love it.
His tongue dives into my mouth the same moment I feel the pressure between my legs. His finger slides into me unexpectedly, but I do nothing to stop it. His mouth swallows my moans and gasps as I try to relax against his hand. I try to become familiar with it--the way it moves against me.
"That's it," he says, whispering against my lips. "Relax. Let me make you feel good."
His thumb presses into me and the sensation makes my legs tense so hard, I slide away from him. It doesn't deter him. He just moves closer. Presses his mouth even harder to mine.
I'm shocked at the instinctual way my body begins to move against his hand. When I first do it, he groans, so I continue doing it.
I can feel the pressure of two of his fingers inside me as he presses them as far into me as he can reach. "Fuck," he groans. "You're so fucking tight, Sloan."
His voice does things to me when it's this deep and full of desire.
"I can't fucking wait to be inside you." His lips drag down my neck. "It's killing me that I can't fuck you right here. Right now."
Jesus. I think I might like dirty talk. That surprises me, but hearing him talk about wanting me is making me want to give it to him. Just not yet. Definitely not tonight. We're already going too fast, but he makes it seem perfectly okay.
"I want to taste you," he whispers. "I want to climb under this fucking table and devour you."
"Asa," I whisper.
It's all I can say, because I'm scared if I try to say any more than that, I'll ruin the mood. I don't think I can talk like him. The way he's talking...
"Do you like this?" he asks.
"Yes."
My words must be exactly what he wanted to hear, because the next thirty seconds go by in a blur. His tongue is devouring mine, his hand is touching me in just the right spot that I start to shake. To shudder. Tremors take over and I'm trying to scoot away from him because the sensation is too much, but he's coming at me with even more force, drinking my moans up like the wine.
His fingers stay inside me, but his hand is still now as he pulls back to watch me recover from what he just did to me. His chest is heaving against mine and he's somehow pressed against my thigh so hard, I can feel how hard he is through his jeans.