Page 14 of The Boyfriend Goal

Do I have a kick to me? In some ways, I probably do. In other ways, I don’t entirely know. But tonight is for boldness, so I add, “Like me.”

That earns me a heated grin. He takes one more bite, like he’s savoring every ounce of the treat. “And yours tastes…a little forbidden,” he says, and arousal builds in my belly. I don’t know why ice cream is forbidden to him. I don’t even really care. I just like the way he talks to me and looks at me. Like he wants to know me and eat me up.

He gives me back my forbidden cup, then says in that same heated voice, “What do you think of San Francisco so far?”

The air between us crackles. “I’m liking it,” I say, my skin tingling. We’re not talking about the city.

“Yeah, me too,” he says. “And your first night here? Is it what you imagined?”

“Nothing has been like I imagined,” I say playfully, flashing back to Big Bird and Ms. Peck. “Even the pigeon sex.”

But for the first time in a while Wesley looks thrown off. “Okaaaaay.”

Shoot. I’m pretty sure pigeon sex is not on a list of acceptable date topics. I shake my head quickly. “It’s not like that.” But what do I even mean by it’s not like that? I scramble to explain myself better. “I meant I took a video of two pigeons banging…” Nope, that’s not better.

No wonder I haven’t attempted the first item on my list before. I am a hot mess when it comes to flirting.

But Wesley doesn’t let my comment go. “You recorded the bird portion of the birds and the bees?”

“I did,” I say with a wince since it’s too late to take it back. “Do you want to say goodnight right now?”

His hand comes down on mine again, covering it, squeezing it. “No. I want you to tell me how they do it.”

With a smile and a fresh surge of adrenaline, I give him a quick overview of pigeon copulation, and soon he’s laughing. When the laughter subsides, he says, “I’m not sure how to top that. I was going to say we could check out the Golden Gate Bridge or the Palace of Fine Arts. But once you’ve seen pigeons fornicating, everything else is downhill.”

Except…

I can’t believe I’m about to do this. I can’t believe I’m using my pornithography as my lubricant. But what do I have to lose?

I take a deep breath…

But he goes first, speaking in a quieter, bedroom voice. “You’re blushing again, Josie. You did that in the store.”

I know what moment he means. I know what I was thinking about then too—item number one. I was weighing if I was going to do it or not. “I did?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty when you blush. Just like your blue eyes.”

That’s why he said blue’s his favorite color.

No time like the present. No night like tonight. Get out of your comfort zone. I already did that when I walked half-naked around the city. This next step should be easy. I take one more bite of my ice cream for courage, then set it down.

But Wesley is faster once again, asking, “Can I try your ice cream a second time?”

He really does like the dessert. I hand him the cup, and he takes it with a quick thanks, but then sets it down on the counter.

I frown, confused. “You didn’t taste…”

He rises from his stool, closes the short distance between us then leans in, dipping his face close to mine.

The air whooshes from my chest. A shiver runs down my spine. For a long, delicious second—or several—he waits. Like he’s letting the moment ripen. His gaze drops to my mouth, then he lifts his hand. I expect him to cup my cheek or thread it through my hair.

Instead, he presses his palm against my collarbone, under the scarf, spreading his fingers wide against the exposed flesh. I go hot everywhere. It’s possible my panties are on fire.

He drops his mouth to mine, our lips connecting at last. His kiss is soft, heady, a little on the sweet side. Then it’s tart, from his ice cream.

He kisses the corner of my mouth, then slides his hand up the side of my neck. His thumb glides over the hinge of my jaw as he deepens the kiss. I part my lips for him, my mind popping, my skin tingling. As he kisses me, his scruff rubs lightly against my skin, the sandpaper scratch of it making my knees weak. I feel like my bones are melting right along with the ice cream as he kisses me more—the kind of kiss that’s so much more than a taste.

I part my legs slightly.

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