Page 37 of An Engagement Pact

“No mocking allowed,” he says sternly. “I was in high school.”

“I guess I should be relieved there aren’t half-naked women on the walls.”

“I was a very classy kid,” he tells me.

That makes me laugh again.

We settle on the striped area rug, leaning against the bed and arranging our goodies. I grab a salted-caramel-and-almond cookie and take a big bite. “Mmm.”

Dan is leaning over to flip through an impressive vinyl record collection.

“You’ve got a ton of those.”

“Yeah. It was one of my pastimes in high school and college. Nothing is really worth a lot, but I do have some good ones.” He pulls out a sleeved record with a worn cover of a Johnny Cash album.

I smile. “Nice. I never would have taken you for a Johnny Cash fan.”

“I like all kinds of things,” he explains as he carefully pulls out the record and sets it on the player, turning down the volume slightly since it was set high. “But the store nearby always had more country music than anything else, so I ended up with a lot of it.”

The familiar gravelly tones fill the room with a haunting kind of poignancy.

We listen as we eat our dessert, occasionally commenting on a line or an instrumental section but mostly just enjoying the music.

Eventually our plate of treats is empty. Dan sets it up on the desk and then rearranges himself on the floor, closer to me than before.

Despite my enjoyment of the relaxing moment, a flicker of physical interest awakens inside me. His body is big and warm and real andthere. Right there beside me.

I want to touch him.

The memory of having sex with him in the car two nights ago rushes back to me in a hot wave. I feel it again. See it again. Experience it again in my mind. Soon I’m flushed and breathing faster than I was.

Dan adjusts his position beside me. He’s not looking at me. At all. But it still seems like he’s acutely aware of me.

As much as I’m aware of him.

“Vicky?” he says after a few minutes in which I get more and more uncomfortable.

“What?” The one word comes out in almost a gasp because I’m ridiculously breathless. Nothing has even happened yet.

He turns toward me at last. His silvery eyes are hot and urgent. Deeply compelling. “Can I try something?”

My mind is too overwhelmed to figure out what he’s asking, but there’s nothing he could ask right now that I wouldn’t agree to. “Yes.”

He lifts one hand to cup my cheek and turn my head so I’m facing him. Then he leans over into a kiss.

It starts lightly. Almost experimental. But at the first touch of his lips, pleasure surges inside me and I grab for it needily. I push toward him eagerly. He has to take my head in both his hands as I deepen the kiss.

He makes a throaty sound as he turns his body, moving onto his knees at the same time. I do the same so it’s easier to stretch up to his level. My body pulses with heat and excitement as our mouths move together and his tongue slides between my lips.

I wrap my arms around his neck. I must be too enthusiastic because he gets pushed backward. After a brief, clumsy maneuver, he ends up on his ass again and uses the opportunity to pull me onto his lap.

I feel awkward with my legs sprawled, so I adjust so I’m straddling his hips. This is much, much better. My groin is aligned with his, and I can feel that he’s already getting hard in his pants.

I want it so much. Want him so much. I kiss him for all I’m worth as I grind myself against him.

He huffs out a breathless sound as he slides his hands down to cup my bottom over the stretched fabric of my shorts. “Damn, Vicky! You’re on fire.”

I feel on fire. I feel like there’s so much going on inside me that my skin can’t possibly contain it. And I also feel a familiar flicker of a different emotion.

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