Page 49 of Time for Change

She gets up, and I follow her to the bathroom. We move through the small living room toward a short hallway with three doors. The one at the end is presumably a closet, while the other two doors are open and reveal a bedroom and bathroom. As much as I’d love to check out her bedroom—and dootherthings—that’s not why I’m here.

The bathroom is small but tidy and fresh, much like the rest of her apartment. I can tell she takes great pride in keeping her space organized and clean, despite the old, stained grout and cracked, yellowed linoleum. I take a quick glance around and find body products and makeup on a small shelf above the toilet, and a bottle of fruity hand soap near the sink.

And yes, there is a single blue towel tossed on the floor, which she quickly scoops up and takes out of there, presumably to throw it in the hamper.

I conduct the same tests in the bathroom as I did in the kitchen, but this time, I’m wrapped in the intoxicating scent of Stevie. Her shampoo, bodywash, lotion…it’s all together in one small space, competing to catch my attention and hold it. My cock grows hard, making it difficult to squat when needed. What the hell is going on with me? I haven’t had this juvenile reaction to a woman—or a scent—since I was about sixteen and Hannah Dunkin wore some coconut lotion every day in biology. It was enough to grab me by the balls and lust after the blond cheerleader the entire year.

“I think you’re all good,” I tell her, glancing over my shoulder when I’m finished with the final outlet.

She’s leaning against the doorjamb, her eyes cast down to my ass. A wide smile spreads across my mouth as she slowly brings her gaze up to my face. She blushes, realizing she’s busted, but doesn’t try to hide or shy away. Stevie just holds my stare as the embers of desire crackle and smolder around us.

“So that’s it?” she asks, her voice husky.

“Yes,” I tell her, slowly standing up and turning her way. I know I should try to conceal my erection, but that’s not possible at the moment. I think the International Space Station can see it from two hundred miles out.

She glances down and grins, clearly noticing the other presence in the bathroom, before stepping back and exiting.

I’m left standing here, my own grin on my face, as I try to adjust my raging hard-on into a more comfortable position. There isn’t one, of course, but it’s worth a shot. It doesn’t help that her scent surrounds me.

I give myself a few minutes to get my hormones under control, grab my tools, and join Stevie in the living room. This time when I crouch down to place my stuff back in my bag, it’s not nearly as uncomfortable. Finally, the task is complete and I’m ready to go.

Except…I’m not ready at all.

When I stand up and face her, she says, “Thank you, again, for dinner.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply, taking a step closer. Then, I take another, and suddenly, she’s standing directly in front of me. My hand reaches out, all on its own, and wraps around her hip. She leans in, not only to my touch but to my body as well. Gazing up at me, she slides her arms around my waist and places her hands against my back.

All the control I was able to regain a few minutes ago flies out the window. My cock rages hard, my blood racing through my veins, and all it took was one little touch, one trusting look in her whiskey-colored eyes.

“Jack?” she whispers, her fingers flexing.

“Yes, Sweets?” The term of endearment just rolls off my tongue without any thought. I’ve never been a nickname guy, but now that I’ve said it, it feels right.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

“Yes,” I state with conviction. “Is that okay?”

She nods, her tongue slipping out and wetting her lips.

My mouth presses firmly against hers. That one simple act is like tossing fuel on an open flame. It ignites, engulfing my entire body, but I don’t shy away from it. I let it encompass me, dragging me under and burning me alive.

Her tongue slips out, dancing with my own, as my hands start to wander. They grip at her sweater, begging to feel the warm skin beneath, and as much as I want that, I try to keep a cool head. Then, her own hands start to move and tug at my button-down. She pulls it from my pants, catching the undershirt too, and slips her palms against my sides. A groan falls from my mouth as her palms dance along my sides and work their way to my back.

My own hands start to move, gently pushing up her sweater to discover what’s underneath it. I deepen the kiss, our tongues sliding together, mimicking exactly what I’d be doing to her if we were both naked. Stevie lets out the softest mewl, arching her chest into mine. I can feel her nipples hard through our clothes, and my mouth waters for a taste.

Only problem is one taste will never be enough.

Her nails score my back as she starts to rock her hips. Reaching down, I take her right leg and hitch it over my hip. I can feel the heat of her pussy as she starts to grind, searchingand grasping for more. The pleasure consumes me, as my hands creep up her back. When they come in contact with her bra, I almost release the clasp. Iwantto release it, but I know it’s too soon.

I pry my lips from hers and let them slide down her neck. Stevie moans in pleasure, letting her head fall back and to the side. My mouth tastes every inch of her exposed skin, my tongue dancing across the soft, heated flesh. “My God, you taste so fucking sweet,” I murmur, nipping at the soft spot just below her ear and soothing it with my tongue.

She whimpers, rolling her lower body against my erection, driving me wild. But it’s in that moment I know I need to apply the brakes. I don’t want to take her against her front door on a second date. I don’t want to cart her off to bed and ravish her like this. That’s not who I am and not what she deserves.

“Stevie,” I mumble, prying my mouth from her skin. “We need to slow down.”

She tenses against me, and I know instantly I’ve said the wrong thing.“Okay,” she whispers, trying to lower her leg and step back.

“Wait,” I insist, releasing her leg so she can stand on her own two feet. “Let me tell you why.”

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