Page 50 of Hat Trick

I flush at the memory of his erection pressed against me. I’d been half a second away from dropping to my knees, peeling open his jeans, and worshipping his cock in the best waypossible.

Taking a turn around the kitchen, I flash him a smile and then drop onto one of the stools at the island. “I’m beginning to like this younger thing. It means that you should have more stamina for certainactivities.”

“Should?” he repeats, and I can’t help but laugh at his defensive tone. “Stamina isn’t something you’ll ever have to worry about withme.”

“Do I have to worry about you stealing all of thepie?”

He glances down to where he’s hugging the dessert to his chest like contraband. “Have I mentioned that I enjoy pie?” He looks up at me through thick lashes, and his mouth turns up in a half-smile. “Grab the plates, honey. We’re going to watch amovie.”

“Arewe?”

“Yup. It’s all part of my kissing plans.” He cuts me a dark look that I don’t believe for a hot-second. “Don’t make fun of me, but back in college I used to think about taking you to the movies all the time. We’d sit up in the backrow—”

“Only naughty things happen in the back row.” I follow behind him with our plates and utensils while he grabs the wine from a fancy cooler next to the refrigerator. We take a hallway leading out of the kitchen, away from the front of the house. “I don’t think I’ve partaken in that sort of thing since highschool.”

“Exactly.” With his elbow, he flicks on a light at the end of the hallway, and I’m halfway not surprised that he owns an in-house movie theater. There are three rows of black leather La-Z--Boys, and I count nine seats total. Classic red walls complete the space, as well as the largest TV I’ve ever seen outside of an actualtheater.

He gestures for me to take my seat in the back row—naturally—and I do so with a soft laugh. Marshall has clearly thought this whole thing out. Who am I to ruin hisfantasy?

I take the back-left seat. “Tell me the rest of your fantasy, and don’t leave out athing.”

“I never leave out the details,” he rumbles. “I’m not that sort of guy.” Bringing the pie and the wine to a wooden sideboard to our left, he snags the plates and utensils and doles out two slices. “I hope you’re okay with drinking straight from the bottle?” Gray eyes twinkle at me in challenge. “It’s part of thefantasy.”

“We can be heathenstogether.”

His grin is slow and panty-meltingly sexy. If I weren’t so determined to follow his fantasy to a T, I’d strip off my underwear and throw them across theroom.

Get the show on early and allthat.

Patience has never been a virtue ofmine.

Marshall returns with our pie and the wine bottle, then makes a quick detour to shut off the lights. When he settles in beside me, the space feels immediately smaller. His left leg presses into mine, and our elbows do a little dance as we stake ourclaim.

His elbow to the back of the arm rest—mine to thefront.

It’s like a tango a couple only makes once in their life, and I hide a smile by digging into my blueberrypie.

For a night that started out in nightmare status…this is everything I needed to feel better, to feelright. With Marshall, I belong, and I wish it hadn’t taken me years to realizethat.

“What do you want towatch?”

His palm falls to my thigh with the question, and right then, that’s when I realize why he wanted our first kiss to be likethis.

It’s a throwback to our youth when first kisses were secreted in the back of a theater. When you waited, in hope, for your date to make the first move. An arm around your shoulders. A hand to the thigh. A kiss that starts light and easy before you’re hauled onto a masculine lap and grinding down like the soundtrack to the movie is something straight from anightclub.

I cover Marshall’s hand with mine, and it’s so much less than what I want to do in this moment. Squeezing his fingers, I hope he gets the message loud and clear:I can’t wait to take this step withyou.

With his pewter gaze on me, he flips his hand over, palm up, so that we’re holdinghands.

Swoon.

Seriously, I’m feeling a little lightheaded rightnow.

“Movie, Gwen?” he prompts, a little knowing smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve gotNetflix.”

Is he asking me a question right now? I look down at our entwined fingers. Yup, my heart is beating a mile a minute and all I know is that I want this moment to last forever. I don’t think I’ve ever—not ever—anticipated a man’s kiss like I doMarshall’s.

Considering the fact that I’ve already seen him naked, too . . . I feel like that says alot.

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