Page 39 of One Whopper of a Love Story

He hadn’t scooped me into his arms and kissed me until my toes curled, which had huge question marks dancing in my head.

I fanned myself as I drank in his beautiful display of muscles. “I think I’m sweating already.”

When I stepped within reach, he tugged me to his chest, with one hand on the back of my head and the other on my back, he held me longer than he’d ever held me before. That wasn’t insignificant because for a man determined not to kiss me until after the twenty-one days, he’d sometimes hugged me for several minutes as if that would somehow sate his other craving.

Maybe that worked for him. It didn’t for me. I always left thinking about how it would feel to have his whiskers prickling my lips, his breath mingling with mine. All morning I’d been anticipating his kiss.

“Okay.” He pulled away and clapped his hands. “Do we want to start with the routine or drilling some of the self-defense moves? I figured afterward we could go grab food somewhere.”

I studied his face a second, trying to make the puzzle pieces fit. I knew the man wanted to kiss me. But he wasn’t kissing me even though we were the only two people at his house, and there was nothing in the way of interruption. Why?

His house.

That was it. I’d said that very first night that there was going to be no kissing at his place. My feelings then differed from my feelings now. I was no longer simply infatuated, and I trusted Nico.

“Self-defense.” I dropped my purse onto the bench and lay down on the mat. “Let’s start with something fun.” By something fun, I meant kissing, and within a few minutes, he’d know that too.

He straddled me and pinned me to the floor. Smiling, his gaze dropped to my lips a half second before he sucked in a breath. “Okay. Do you remember what to do?”

“I know exactly what to do.” Instead of pulling my elbows closer to my hips, I lifted up and sealed my lips to his.

With a moan, he let go of my wrists, slid his arms underneath me, and cocooned me while he made up for all the days he’d been thinking about kissing me. His mouth moved against mine, his strong body pressing me to the mat.

He broke away, his breathing ragged and sexy. “I missed you yesterday.” He rolled onto his back, keeping me wrapped in his arms. “Not because of counting days or even because of this. I just missedyou. The sound of your voice is only a tolerable substitute for the feel of your hand in mine.” He pushed my hair out of my face. “And the only reason I didn’t greet you with a kiss was because you’d been clear about not kissing here.”

“I know you better, and I know me better. I’m not ready for more than this, and maybe next time, we could do this someplace other than the garage floor, but that one little piece of chocolate wasn’t nearly enough.” I dotted kisses on his jaw. “And I do like being on top.”

Chuckling, he pulled me down to him and tangled his fingers in my hair. His lips brushed mine, softly and gently, teasing a deeper and hungrier kiss. “The next habit will take longer to perfect.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I think—if you like the idea—I’ll spend the next five months working on being the perfect boyfriend.” He nuzzled my neck. “I mean, I’ve already been practicing, but practice makes perfect.”

I nodded, loving the label, one that seemed obvious but hadn’t been said. The timeline made my heart flutter a little. “I like the sound of that. A lot.” I slid my arms around his neck and pulled him to me, finally getting that hungrier kiss.

By definition, kissing him wasn’t impulsive because I’d been thinking about it since we’d walked into his house that very first time.

“When this kiss is finished, we’ll go into the house.” He touched his lips to mine softly between sentences. “With the whole odd number thing, is it tallied by day or in total? I want to make sure I get this right.”

Laughing against his lips, I ran my hands down his chest. “In total, and I hope that soon, I’ll lose count.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, and I felt every bit of the vibration.

“Losing count. I like that goal. I can definitely help with that.”

We didn’t end up working out, at least in the traditional sense, but my heartrate was elevated for an extended period of time. That should count for something.

Chapter 20

Nico

Five months flew by faster than a barn swallow in flight. The old adage about time and fun was true. Dating Layla had upended my life in the best of ways.

I parked outside Layla’s apartment, nervous and excited. Deep breaths helped calm me, but the sight of Layla in her tight-fitting jeans and her ruffly top sent my heartrate skyrocketing again. If I wanted to make it through the first part of our date without slipping up and letting on about the surprise party, I needed to calm down.

Standing on the sidewalk, she waved. And her grin was nothing short of spectacular.

“Happy birthday, beautiful. I didn’t expect you to be waiting outside.”

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