Page 38 of The Spark Between Us

A moment later, Sarah was gone in a blur of pink cheeks, honey hair, and the dizzying scent of lemon and flowers.

“Well, that could’ve been awkward,” Kelsey snorted. “Good thing she didn’t come home five minutes later when I had your cock in my mouth.”

I shook my head, still having trouble forming words. There was no logical reason for me not to leap at the chance to have Kelsey’s pretty lips all over any body part that interested her.

And yet...I couldn’t get on board.

“Sorry about that.” I finally found my voice and it came out in a croak. I needed water,

Kelsey shrugged, arms still wrapped around my neck. “I recall exactly where we were.” She pressed herself against me again. Within seconds, her lips were on mine and my whole body went rigid. My thoughts returned to Sarah. I felt like I owed her an apology.

“Hon, you need to relax. Here let me help.” Kelsey started again for my belt buckle, and I grabbed her hands to stop her.

“How about we pick this up after dinner? Maybe some Italian food, then back to your place?”

Kelsey smiled. “I like that idea.”

I guided her down the driveway toward my car. She stood for a moment by the passenger door as I looked back at the house. I heard Kelsey’s irritated huff as she opened the door herself and climbed in.

“Oh, shit.” I’d left Bella outside because Kelsey didn’t like dogs. I quickly texted Sarah and asked her to bring my dog inside, grateful that Bella liked her so much.

She wasn’t the only one. And that was rapidly becoming a problem.

* * *

Dinner was fine.I ate a plate of spaghetti with clams and a few bites of salad. Ordinarily, it was one of my favorite meals. Tonight, it tasted off.

Everything was off.

Kelsey told me a story about her downstairs neighbor, who was taking singing lessons and not learning very well. “She told me she wants to try out for ‘The Voice’ or something, and I didn’t want to say anything, but hon, that’s never gonna happen.” She laughed and I gave her a strained smile.

“Maybe she’ll get better after a while,” I mumbled, pushing the pasta around on my plate. I didn’t feel hungry. Kelsey shrugged and smiled at me the way she always did, and I tried to remember what we’d talked about on the last three dates because this felt like a struggle.

It was me. I had no doubt about it.

Kelsey sipped her wine and leaned forward, giving me a view of her ample cleavage and batting her lashes. Then she leaned in to kiss me. Her lips tasted like the garlicky pesto sauce from her penne, and I felt her nails skate along the back of my neck as she rubbed her nose along my jaw.

Kelsey had no problem with PDA. I knew this from our last dinner, but that had been at a dark corner table in a brew pub. Really dark.

This was an upscale Italian place in Pleasanton. I knew people here, and I hoped to return with my dignity intact, so I put the brakes on before Kelsey decided to straddle me.

Our chairs were on adjacent sides of a small square table with a white cloth and a candle in the middle. She had her hand on my thigh and was making circles with her nails, working her way up my leg, staring into my eyes, and letting me know unequivocally what she wanted.

I should have wanted it too.

“You okay, hon?” she asked.

I felt like an asshole. “Yeah, sorry. Spacing out again. So, you were telling me about your neighbor’s singing?”

“Yeah, I was...” She shrugged and moved her hand to my chest, massaging circles there. “There isn’t that much more to tell.” She looked down at our plates and swallowed down the last of her wine. “I’m pretty good to go here if you want to go back to my place. Maybe my neighbor will serenade us.”

I wanted to want to go to her place. I tried to find enthusiasm for the plan. But even a guarantee that I’d get laid in the next thirty minutes didn’t sound like an enticing option.

“You know what, I’m not at my best tonight. I apologize, Kelsey. You deserve a better date than me.”

“Aw, hon, don’t apologize. It happens. Life gets in the way sometimes.” She took out her lipstick and dabbed a deep pink shade on her lips before rubbing them together. Then she took out her phone and started scrolling. I wondered if she was getting ready to find another man who might be more accommodating than me. The thought filled me with relief.

I felt terrible about disappointing her, but I could tell things were only going in one direction if I went back to her house. I’d either freeze up and not be able to get the job done, or I’d have sex with her and end up feeling like I’d used her, which was infinitely worse.

So I paid the check and drove her home. After walking her to her door and turning down her last-ditch offer to come inside, I left. I couldn’t believe myself. I’d dated dozens of women, and never had there been an instance when I couldn’t close.

Your dick has died. That’s the only explanation.

There was another possible explanation, and I hated to think it involved the woman living in my house. I’d pushed thoughts of Sarah away for two solid weeks, and each day it got more difficult. I knew I couldn’t date her, not if I wanted to emerge from our roommate situation with my heart intact, but I was beginning to realize that just knowing Sarah was making it impossible to date anyone else.

---