Page 62 of Loving You

I folded my arms over my chest and nodded.

“Then that’s even better, isn’t it? No pressure or wondering whether you’ll get together at the end of the date. You’re a couple now, so yeah, it’s a first date and that can be a big thing, but it doesn’t have to be more stressful than a couple going out to dinner.”

I nodded. He wasn’t saying anything I didn’t know. I honestly didn’t know what I needed him to say. Maybe I only wanted someone to tell me it wasn’t ridiculous to take a woman on a first date after so many other firsts had been blown by the wayside.

Jake must’ve seen something in my expression, because he gave me an amused look. “Listen, I was worried about things like the first date ‘rules’ and what should or shouldn’t happen after it. It was different with us, but I think for you, you go with what she wants. If she seems like she wants more than a good-night kiss, go for it. Don’t get stuck in your habit of being so by the book and disciplined you miss a good thing when it’s staring you in the face.”

I nodded, wondering at how completely I’d ignored all the rules and discipline that normally guided me when it came to April. But that was part of the fun—part of her rubbing off on me.

He didn’t need to worry about me hitting the brakes if April wanted me. I could no more resist her than the moon could keep the sun from shining. But I wouldn’t tell him that, so I accepted his suggestion. “Good advice. I’ll make sure I take her cues.”

“And uh… the birthday thing?”

I stood, tugging at my collar. “TBD.”

* * *

I dragged in from a long day of overthinking everything and frustrating work bullshit, determined to find my second wind. Maybe I’d have a shot of espresso before I got dressed for our date. I’d woken up before my alarm this morning, anticipation pushing me and my adrenaline all day, but once I’d slumped into my car ten minutes ago, exhaustion hit.

Exhaustion and nerves. I’d made a move regarding April’s birthday being today, and I sincerely hoped I hadn’t made the wrong call. She must have had a reason for not telling me, which I got on some level. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t smart a bit that she hadn’t let me in on it.

I filtered through the mail as I walked into the living room, greeting April when I heard her in the kitchen. “Hey, how was your—”

My words halted and my heart jolted, my pulse racing as I took in the scene in my kitchen. April stood with her back to me at the kitchen counter, her hair long and curled, clearly fixed and ready for our date. But the rest of her was deliciously, tantalizinglynotready.

She wore only black lace lingerie, and beneath the tendrils of her long hair, satin ribbons crisscrossed down her back and tied in a small bow just above her perfect ass. Thigh-high stockings were held in place by a garter belt, and her signature heels were sharp enough to kill a man.

Not only that, but they weretheheels.

They were the heels that had first shown her my touch wasn’t one she wanted to cringe away from when she teetered on them and I’d broken her fall. I’d never forget them and the way the sight of her long legs had stirred something in me that I now knew went a lot deeper than lust.

“Fuck, if that’s not one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.” I tossed the mail somewhere—who the fuck knew? Who cared?—and crowded up behind her, hands finding the smooth, warm skin of her upper thighs.

“Oh, hello, Eric,” she said, all kinds of fake nonchalance as she scribbled something on the grocery list on the counter. She glanced over her shoulder, her pleased little smile sending a thrill through me.

“I guess we’re skipping the date?” I asked, sliding one hand across the lace covering her belly while I bent and pressed a kiss to her neck. From this angle, I relished the view of breasts just shy of spilling over the lace cups as her chest rose and fell.

Shit, this woman.

“What? No. We’re still going out. At least, I thought…” She turned in my arms, her concern evidently real.

“You thought you’d wear that and I’d come home and see you in it and haveanydesire to leave this house?” My thumb arced over her breast and heat shot to my cock at the feel of her hard nipple under the black lace.

Her low chuckle only reinforced the now raging hard-on, then she wrapped her arms around me and rubbed against me, and I let out a moan.

“Oh, we’re still leaving. Once I understood why this whole normal dating thing meant so much to you, I’ve been looking forward to it,” she said, fiddling with my collar like it was just another post-work kitchen conversation and not her tormenting me with the sexiest lingerie I’d ever seen.

“Okay so you want dinner, but that’s after I bend you over this counter, right? You’re not seriously proposing I see you like this and then somehow keep my hands to myself?”

To emphasize the point, I slipped a hand over her ass and kneaded the skin there, tugging at the strap of the garter belt that held up the back of one stocking.

Another low laugh had me pulling back to look at her as she said, “Oh, no. You’ll have to wait to bend me overanything. You know how I get when I’m hangry.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “I do. Feisty as fuck. And if that’s somehow supposed to deter me…”

She pressed a finger where my brow wrinkled before leaning in, her lush breasts against my chest driving me wild. “I know it’s hard, love”—she ran her hand over myabso-fucking-lutelyhard dick like she knew she owned me—“but tonight, I plan to torture you a little bit.”

“Yeah? I’d say you’re doing a damn good job of it.” My eyes shut as she stroked me again. “I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

---