Page 20 of Meant for Stone (Meant For)

“Why are you sitting there”—I point at where he’s sitting—“instead of sitting across from me?”

“Because if I sit in front of you,” he starts, reaching over to grab my chair and pulling it to him, “I won’t be able to do this.” He bends his head, and I’m expecting a kiss on the lips, but instead, he kisses me right behind my ear.

All of the words in the whole entire dictionary are stuck in my throat. There is not one word, not one vowel, not one syllable that comes out of my mouth. “How about you not do that?” I suggest when I’m finally able to speak.

“What fun would that be?” He puts his arm around the back of my chair and rubs his thumb up and down on my shoulder, the feeling like a feather through the silk top. “How was your day?”

“Spoke with Homeland Security about you,” I deadpan with a straight face, “that was fun.” His mouth hangs open. “Relax, I’m kidding.”

The server approaches us, and I order a pitcher of sangria while Stone orders a sparkling water. “How was your day?” I ask, trying not to sound nervous or that being this close to him is making me sweat.

“It was good,” he says. “Not as great as right now that I’m with you.” He smirks at me and winks. “Always better when I get to be with you.”

The server comes back, putting down two wineglasses and filling them up with sangria before giving Stone a glass of sparkling water, telling us he’ll give us a minute to look over the menu. “Shall we toast?” I ask, anxious to busy my hands before I reach over and massage his impressive package in those jeans.

“We should,” he replies, grabbing his sparkling water and not the glass of sangria. “Here is to the best first date ever. But the second-best day ever.”

“That makes no sense,” I say to him, holding up my glass and clinking it with him. “What was the first-best day ever?” I bring the glass to my lips, taking a sip, not expecting what comes out of his mouth.

“The first time I kissed you was the best day ever.” He takes a sip of his water. “This is the best date ever.”

“Pretty sure of yourself,” I mumble to him, and he just chuckles. “How the hell did you make reservations?” I finally ask him, drinking the rest of the sangria in my glass.

I will admit, Stone really pushes me out of my comfort zone. He says things I’m never expecting him to say. He kisses me when I least expect it, so it’s no surprise when he tells me, “After practice, I came by here to make sure I spoke with the manager and got a reservation. I wanted a quiet table where I could sit next to you and be able to touch you.” My mouth hangs open, literally catching flies as they say. He reaches for the pitcher and pours me another glass. I reach forward to take a sip, but I finish the glass instead. “Cat got your tongue?” he asks, then doesn’t give me a chance to answer. “I’d rather do other things with your tongue, to be honest.”

“Is that so?” I finally say, this I can do. The flirty, sexy talk I can do. It’s the caring little things he does that I can’t do. I don’t want to do.

“That is,” he confirms, taking another sip of his water. The server comes over, and Stone reaches for the menus, ordering pretty much one of everything.

“So tell me, gorgeous.” His head gets closer to me as he whispers in my ear, “Did you have fun with yourself the other night?”

I throw my head back and laugh, giving him the opportunity to kiss my neck. “I always have fun with myself.” I pretend I don’t still feel his lips on my neck. “Don’t you have fun with yourself?”

“What did you think about?” he asks with a smirk. “Was it me?”

“It was not,” I deny quickly right before I drink another glass of sangria.

“You’re a beautiful liar,” he tells me softly, then leans in to whisper in my ear, “Just so you know, whatever you thought about me doing to you, it’s going to be even better in real life.” He nips my ear.

“Is that so?” I ask him as some of the food comes to the table, and I want to tell them to take the food and go away.

“That is so.” He picks up the conversation when the server leaves. “I’ve been thinking about nothing else since I kissed you six months ago.”

The meal goes by way too quickly. He changes the topic from sex to the wedding. We laugh about the pieces I can’t remember, and when it’s time to leave, I secretly wish the night wasn’t ending.

We walk out, and he looks at me. “What’s your address?” he asks, and I gasp.

“I haven’t even given you my phone number. What makes you think I’m going to tell you where I live?” I giggle, the effects of finishing the pitcher of sangria making me tipsy.

“Fine, why don’t you order the Uber,” he says, “and then I’ll grab a cab from your place.”

“Okay,” I agree, pretty much thinking he’s going to spend the night. Figuring that once we have sex, this chase will be over, so I might as well make him remember this date.

We get into the Uber, and he sits way too close to me. I look up at him, the heat from his arm around me pulling me close to him seeping into me. “You,” I tell him, then go to whisper in his ear, “naked.” I bite his jaw. “With your hands in my hair.” I look at him and see his eyes are darker, so dark they look black. His jaw is clenching. “That’s what I was thinking about.”

His mouth crashes onto mine, his tongue mixing with mine as I pull him to me. His hand reaches over me and grabs my ass. The kiss is everything I’ve thought about since the last time he kissed me in my office. It’s hungry and full of need. I throw my leg over his and feel his cock through his pants, and if we were in a private car, I would massage his dick through the fabric.

The car stops, and he lets go of my lips. “Is this you?” He looks out the window at my building.

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