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But it was connected to a work function. With her boss. No kissing.
God damn it, my head is a mess. I have Chuck’s voice screaming at me to make a real move and a little voice, that’s fucking persistent, telling me to take it easy. I got to hold her for almost two hours for crying out loud. The smell of her lightly floral perfume on the collar of my shirt drifts up to my nose as a reminder and I’m sure my chest smells even better where she rested against me.
Closing the refrigerator and glancing at her hands, I’m reminded of how much softer they were than I could have imagined. Grabbing the plate and bowl, I put them into the dishwasher, feeling her eyes following my every move. “Alright, final judgment.”
She hesitates and bites her lip.
“Don’t hold back on me now, Sam.”
“The bowl goes on the top rack,” she says, scrunching her nose and looking adorable.
Nodding, I move the bowl to the other rack where it seems like it fits the best.
“Perfect,” she says.
The smile on her face has nerves exploding in my gut. She’s relaxed with me here. With me learning how to load the dishwasher the way she likes. In ways that would be normal if we were together.
Part of me wants to tell that little voice telling me that I want to give her a great first date to shut the fuck up so I can pick her up, set her on the counter, and kiss her until we’re both gasping for air.
I let out a little sigh, knowing that letting her see me as someone who isn’t just interested in a quickie, but who wants everything with her, is what she needs to feel all the way to her bones.
“Well, it’s past my bedtime, so I better be on my way.”
“You’ve mentioned that,” she says, letting out a small laugh.
“I guess I did,” I reply as lamely as I feel.
Why couldn’t I have an ounce of Chuck’s swagger?
She leads the way to the door and I slip my feet into my boots and put my hat on, feeling like a middle school kid on his first date.
It’s not a date, I remind myself.
“Truth or dare,” Sam says, looking down at the deadbolt as she unlocks it.
My heart pounds. “Truth.”
Still looking down, she asks, “What are you thinking right now?”
“That tonight wasn’t a date.”
“Oh,” she says, turning her head fully away from me.
My left hand reaches in front of her until it rests on her right hip and gently guides her so she’s facing me. My other hand goes under her chin, tipping her head up until her eyes meet mine, the embarrassment written plain as day on her face.
Once her eyes lock with mine, I continue, “That because it wasn’t one, I don’t get to give you a proper kiss goodnight.”
Her mouth parts and her eyes soften.
“And I hope that when I ask you on a real date, you might say yes,” I finish.
My head tilts to the side and I hold her chin gently in place. I don’t have to bend down terribly far, which is a nice change, Sam is the perfect height for me. It takes every ounce of self-control to only place my lips lightly on her cheek. I linger for a moment, savoring her sharp intake of breath, the feel of her skin against my lips, and the smell of her.
“Goodnight, Samantha Davies,” I whisper, forcing myself to release her, put my hand on the doorknob, and stand to my full height.
Her eyes slowly open and trail from my chest to meet mine, giving me time to take in the flush on her cheeks.
“Goodnight, Thomas Landen,” she whispers back.
