Page 29 of Wine & Dine

“Dolores. Not like this, sweetheart.” I don’t even know why I say that. I could take her, make her lose herself for a little bit, but I don’t think she needs that. She needs me to prove I can control myself.

I nudge her with my nose at her shoulder, and her body shifts. She turns away from me and stiffens as she tries to settle under my arm.

“Of course not,” she mumbles. I don’t ask. I just want to hold her, which is so unlike me.

+ + +

The next morning, I’m making breakfast when Dolores enters my kitchen. She’s wearing my forest green boxer briefs and an old band T-shirt with the robe open over her. I removed my T-shirt when I woke, not used to sleeping in a shirt, so I’m bare-chested as I cook bacon. Dolores’s eyes catch on my chest, widening as she takes in my skin, my abs, and lower. I try to keep fit for someone fifty. It takes more work than it did when I was younger, but I’m proud of the effort. Apparently, so is Dolores because her eyes linger, especially at the treasure trail leading into my pajama pants.

“Like what you see?” I mock, holding my arms out wide for her to take a better glance. Her face heats, and not for the first time, I want to lick the path blossoming on her skin. She turns away, and her breath hitches as she notices my television.

“It’s Thanksgiving!” she shrieks, and her hand lifts to her lips as if she’s horrified. “How did that happen?”

“It’s typically the fourth Thursday of November,” I deadpan. Her head swings back to me, narrowing her eyes at me. My attention drifts to the Thanksgiving Day parade broadcast on the screen. I was supposed to go home, but I missed my flight this morning. I had scheduled it for six a.m., finding the time easier from LAX to Missouri. As if reading my mind, her eyes widened.

“You aren’t supposed to be here, are you?”

I shrug. I don’t like to spend the holidays alone, so I typically head back home. Sometimes, I spend the time with friends in the area. She steps forward, her hands bracing on the island that separates my kitchen from the living space.

“Oh my God.” She panics. “You need to go. I should go.” She steps for the front door, but I’m quick to round the counter and envelop her from behind. My chest leans against her back.

“Look, it’s not a big deal. I missed my flight. I’ll never get out of here now.”

“But it’s a holiday. You should be with your family.”

“What about you?” I ask, still speaking to the back of her head. Her hands grip my forearm around her waist.

“What about me? I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

She stills, straightening from her bent position. “I need to go,” she whispers.

“Or you could stay,” I suggest. “We’ll make a day of it. We can watch movies, hang out. I’ll cook.”

“You don’t have a turkey,” she snorts, looking over her shoulder at me.

“I’ll get one. There has to be a store open or a delivery service running.”

“It’s Thanksgiving,” she screeches again as if this wasn’t the reason for our crazy conversation in the first place.

“I’ll figure it out,” I say, standing taller and forcing her to spin and face me. “Just don’t leave.” I’m starting to sound desperate as I almost beg her not to go.

“Let me cook then,” she says, her arms trapped at her sides as mine wrap around her body, holding her flush to me.

“Deal,” I say, and I can’t help myself as my lips quickly brush hers. I don’t linger like I want. I don’t devour like I crave. Just swipe and step back, leaving her stunned.

“I need to head home for some clothes.” She looks down at her attire and tugs the robe closed.

“We could make it casual Thanksgiving. You don’t need to change.” I wiggle my brows at her, allowing my eyes to roam her body. I like her in that robe, in my boxers, in my condo.

“You’re unbelievable,” she mutters, stepping toward the kitchen island.

“Undeniable is what I prefer,” I say, passing her and swatting her ass. My hand wants to grip the tight globes and then press her to the cabinets, but I don’t. I’ll behave, I promise myself. “I need to take Wally out. I’ll be back in fifteen.”

I turn back to her, walking backward down the hall toward my room. “Can I trust you not to leave me?”

Her mouth curves, a genuine smile hinting behind her lips. “You can trust me.”