Page 40 of Flash

“What are you thinking about, Tater Tot?” I tease, leaning across the table just an inch.

He looks away for a second, and I’m not expecting him to answer my question, but then he pulls his eyes back to mine.

“Ask me about my best date,” he says, scooting forward in his seat so his knee bumps against mine under the table.

A familiar possessive feeling burns hot in my chest. Hearing him catalog a list of bumbling idiots who showed up to meet him at fancy restaurants wearing sweatpants was one thing, but I’m not sure I want to hear him wax poetic about any of the good ones who got away. The sweet smile dancing on his lips is enough for me to trust him though.

“Tell me about your best date.”

Lewis puts his hands on the picnic table and stands up to lean all the way across it, meeting me more than halfway.

“This one,” he says, then presses a fleeting, playful kiss against my lips, giggling as he pulls away.

My heart surges and I chase his mouth for just a second.

“So you admit this is a date?” I cock up an eyebrow.

He laughs again and steps away from the picnic table bench.

“Fine, you caught me, this is a date.”

I stand up and gather up our trash with Lewis’s help. We toss everything into a garbage can on our way back to my Harley. When we get there, I hand him my helmet again. If this is going to be a regular thing, I should swing by Basket Case Bikes and get him a helmet and jacket of his own. Greedy longing swells behind my ribcage. I want Lewis on the back of my bike. I want him wearing a jacket with the Skins logo so everyone knows he’s mine. I want him in my bed and in my house and in every other part of my life.

The feeling leaves me breathless and spiraling.

Maybe he can see it on my face or maybe he’s feeling the same way I am, because the way he slides his hand up under my shirt to drag his fingers over my bare skin is exactly what I need to ground me.

“Take me to your place?” he asks.

I nod without hesitation and then hand him my jacket too. I’ll drive carefully, but the last thing I’m going to do is leave him without the proper protective gear. I cup the back of his neck and give him a hard kiss, then take the helmet back from him and slip it over his head.

He wraps his arms around me as soon as we’re on the bike, pressing his body up against mine. I can feel the hard ridge of his cock and the light tremble in his muscles that matches the electric anticipation humming through me as I rev the engine and pull away from the park.

Thankfully, my driveway is free of anyone else’s car or motorcycle when I pull in. With things feeling like they’re going in the right direction, I’m stoked at the idea of eventually introducing Lewis to Henry and the whole Ink Slingers crew, but that’s definitely the last thing on my mind tonight.

I pull into the garage and kill the engine. Lewis is slightly more graceful when he climbs off this time, but I still notice a slight quake in his knees when he puts his feet on the ground. He’ll get used to the bike.

Fuck, I know I’m getting ahead of myself. We’ve had one date and I’m already mentally ordering him motorcycle gear and thinking about introducing him to everyone I know. But goddamn, I don’t think I know how to do all this without going for broke. It’s just who I am, and the closer I get to fifty, the less I think that’s ever going to change.

He said the other night that he wants to see me, flaws and all. Maybe he can handle it. Maybe he craves something passionate and over-the-top and real the same way I do. Maybe he’s been holding back too.

I lead him into the house, flipping on the light as we step inside.

“I hope you’re a dog person.” I chuckle out the warning just a second before Gregory comes flying around the corner with an excited little howl.

“Oh my god, look at that little muffin.” Lewis bends down and my dog launches himself into his arms. The mutt has no chill. “This is not the dog I would have expected you to have.” He laughs as Gregory laps at his cheeks and nose, wiggling in Lewis’s arms.

“It’s a lot harder to strap a rottweiler to your chest for a motorcycle ride.” I shrug.

“Do you like to ride your daddy’s motorcycle? Do you?” Lewis coos in a high voice, giving Gregory a kiss on the snout before setting him down again.

Is it too soon to propose? Probably. I don’t know how he expects me to play it cool when he’s being cute with my dog though. We could get Gregory his own little tuxedo and make him the ring bearer. It’ll be perfect.

Lewis gets back to his feet and brushes his hands off on his pants, and I swallow down the batshit thoughts swirling in my head. I take off my boots and he slips off his sneakers.

“How’s your hand doing?” he asks, biting his lip and gently picking up my bruised hand.

“Getting better.” I curl my fingers into a fist to demonstrate and then relax them again.

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