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As soon as I step out into the hallway, I smell the most delicious scent of oregano and basil. I knock on the door with drool dripping from the corner of my lip.
The door swings open, and I edge back at his rugged beauty. He’s wearing dark-wash jeans and a navy shirt. Simple, because a man with his face needs nothing else. Preferably not even the clothes, just stand before me nude like the statute of David and let me admire your god-like body.
A dishcloth is slung over his shoulder in the sexiest way possible. He’s grinning ear to ear, his stormy eyes lighting up when he sees me as if actual fireworks were going off.
It's the way he looks at me, not just my body; it feels like he's seeing my soul. That's what first attracted me to him.
My arousal begins to pump. Hold your horses, ovaries, I think to myself; we haven't even said 'hello' yet.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi,” I smirk. We both just smile at each other. It feels like a weight has been lifted off our shoulders.
He reaches out, the warmth of his hands radiating through the fabric of my blouse as they find my hips. His touch sends a shiver of anticipation up my spine.
He bends towards me, and I can feel the gentle pressure of his breath against my skin just before his lips meet mine. The kiss melts me right into his hands. His fingers gently press into my hips, anchoring me in the moment, grounding me in the electric connection between us. His tongue swirls around mine like a shark schooling fish.
Oh, he’s a good kisser. I have a feeling he’s good at everything.
It’s a slow and cautionary kiss, making me feel like I could fall in love with him.
“Hmmm,” he moans in satisfaction, “I’ve been counting the hours of every single day till I could kiss you,” he whispers.
I push on my toes, grabbing his shoulder with my free hand as I deepen our kiss; he follows my lead, mimicking my passion. My fingertips push into his hard muscles, my soft stomach meeting his sculpted one. We kiss like two teenagers sneaking out behind a tree.
Slowly, he spins me, guiding me back and into his apartment. He kicks the door with his heel.
“Fuck, Pumpkin,” he growls.
I feel his hardness push against my core. His hands slip under my shirt, pressing against my heated skin. We’re moving so fast, but I don’t want it to stop, which is insane given my past. At the same time, it is completely logical, given how safe I feel with Julian.
“I made us dinner, but now I only want to eat you.”
His statement sends me into overdrive. I feel like my face makes some dazed cartoon-like gesture.
He pulls away. “Too much honesty?” He raises a brow with a slight worry in his eyes.
I shake my head and swallow.
He slowly grins. “Come on. I’ll feed you first.”
First? What does he have planned for the after? I need to know so I can stress over it the entire time.
I follow him to his kitchen and set the bottle of wine down.
“I didn’t know what you liked to drink, but wine felt very adult-ish,” I tell him.
“Adultish?” he asks with a sparkle of humor in his eyes.
He goes to the stove and stirs the boiling water. A smaller pot is simmering next to it with a delicious-smelling red sauce.
“Well, to be honest, I stressed over what to bring. Beer felt too cheap, liquor felt too…” I giggle but continue my no-filter honesty, “whorish. The wine felt refined.”
“And you want us to be refined tonight?” he asks with a raised brow. He grabs a wooden spoon and begins to stir the sauce.
“Honestly? No. But I think we should try to get to know each other more. Wine allows that. It’s slow and savory.”
He puts the spoon back down and comes toe to toe with me. His aftershave overtakes the kitchen aroma.
