Page 100 of Big D!ck Energy

“Is it?”

“Yes. You hated me when we met.”

His laugh was low. “I never hated you; I was intimidated.”

I accepted the roll, chewing slowly, savoring the taste. The spicy tuna was so freaking good. “You called me a tiny hurricane of unnecessary opinions within five minutes of meeting me.”

“And you called me a walking protein shake with a God complex.” His eyes glittered. “Tell me that wasn't foreplay.”

I choked.

He was already reaching for a napkin, but he was also laughing. “Easy. Can't have you dying before I finish confessing.”

“Confessing?” I managed, dabbing my eyes. “Should I be recording this for legal purposes?”

“You should be eating your sushi while I tell you all the ways I've been pathetically obvious about wanting you.” He picked up a dragon roll, my favorite, and held it up. “Open.” I opened, and he placed the roll on my tongue.

“The engagement party,” he continued, as though he hadn't just scrambled half my neurons with one gesture. “You showed up in that green dress, and Matt had to elbow me because I'd stopped mid-sentence to stare.”

“You were glaring.”

“I was yearning. Glaring implies hostility. The only person I was hostile toward was myself.” He picked up salmon sashimi and met my eyes. “I went home that night and thought about you for three hours.”

“Thought about how much you disliked me?”

“Thought about your mouth.” His voice dropped. “The way it moved when you insulted me. The way you'd smile right after, like you knew exactly what you were doing.”

I sipped my sake. “You're smooth,” I said, breathier than intended.

“I'm honest.” He reached across the distance and tucked hair behind my ear. His fingertips traced the shell of my ear, my jaw, the corner of my mouth.

I caught his wrist. Held it there, his palm warm against my cheek. “What else have you been thinking?”

His pupils dilated, and the smugness cracked. “You want a list?”

“I want specifics.”

“That’s a dangerous game.”

“I'm feeling a little reckless.”

“I've thought about this mouth telling me off and screaming my name.” His gaze dropped to my mouth. “This mouth…”

“Dallas.”

“See?” His smile was crooked, almost helpless. “Exactly like that.”

I wasn't sure who moved first. Maybe I pulled him forward by the wrist. Maybe he leaned in, but the distance between us collapsed.

His mouth found mine, and the kiss wasn't gentle. It was hungry and tasted like sake, and two years of verbal sparring finally found a different outlet. His hand slid into my hair, tilting my head back. I made a sound against his lips I'd be embarrassed about later, except I couldn't care because he was kissing me like I was air and he'd been drowning.

Sushi forgotten. Candles flickering dangerously as we shifted, reconfigured, tried to get closer. His hand found my waist, hip, and the small of my back, pulling me into his lap.

“Careful.” I breathed against his mouth. “You'll knock over the…”

He did. An entire platter of California rolls went sideways, but we didn’t stop.

We rolled, and my back was against cushions, Dallas above me, weight braced on his forearms, damp hair brushing my forehead.