Page 31 of A Million Times, Yes
My hands were on her waist, and she turned around to face me, her back now against the window. “Why do you ask?”
“I would have seen you before. I’ve been running that path for years.”
“What if I just went unnoticed?”
“Impossible.” I chuckled. “All I notice on that sidewalk is you.”
She combed her hand through the side of my hair. “You’re flattering, you know that?” Her cheeks were turning red. “I recently moved in.” She mashed her lips together, her breathing coming even faster. “You haven’t kissed me yet.”
“Once I start, I won’t be able to stop.”
“Who says you have to?”
“The food is getting delivered in”—I glanced at my watch, hoping she wouldn’t recognize the designer if she caught a glimpse of it—“twenty minutes.”
“You’re saying you need more time than that to do”—she traced my lips with her finger—“what you have planned?”
I changed my grip, giving her a bit of my strength. “I’m sayingyouneed more time than that. This isn’t like eating a burger in the car, Maya. This is fucking dining.”
She studied my eyes. “You’re not really talking about dinner, are you?”
“No.”
“You’re saying—”
“I’m saying I want to spend hours with my face between your legs. Teasing you with my fingers and my tongue. Licking you. Swallowing you. Getting you off so many times, you can’t come any more. That’s what I want. That’s what I’ve been thinking about. So I’m going to keep my mouth to myself until I can put it right here.” I rubbed a finger on the inside of her thigh. Not high enough that I could feel any wetness from her panties, but enough that I could feel her heat.
And, fuck, it felt so good.
“I’m trying to think of a smart-ass comment to say.”
“Hit me with it.”
“I can’t ... because I can’t breathe. That’s what you do to me.”
“My lips haven’t even touched you yet.”
“They don’t have to. Your words alone are enough. Because that mouth”—she shook her head—“is nice and dirty.” She set her hands on my wrists and raised them up my forearms and biceps, stopping at my shoulders. “I’ve been dying to see what’s under these clothes. Your body has been too hidden from me. Feeling it just isn’t enough.”
Tattoos. That was what she’d see. Symbolism of my time on the ice on both my arms, beginning an inch above a T-shirt sleeve and covering my whole chest.
But what Maya was talking about were my muscles. “You can see it. Touch it. But tonight is about you. It isn’t about me—not in that kind of way, I mean.”
“What if I want it to be?”
I hissed out an exhale. “You’re making demands now?”
“Again, what if I want to?”
“I’ll consider it.” I linked her fingers with mine. “Come here.” I brought her over to the couch, where I had her sit, and I went to the fridge, took out a Sam Adams, twisted off the cap, and gave it to her.
“A detail you heard—for someone who isn’t a listener. Interesting.” She smiled as she took the bottle from me.
I poured myself a scotch from a bottle I’d had room service deliver and sat beside her. “The bathtub conversation. I couldn’t forget it.”
“But you could have ... and you didn’t.” She held her beer out to me. “To our first non-date.”
“And dinner.”
