He glanced down at his plate, pushing his fork toward the middle. “I don’t want you to get lost. I-I could show you around, if you wanted. I’ve lived here all my life.” He looked up, nervous. “I know it pretty well. If y-you wanted,” he added again.
I laid my hand on his arm. “Yeah, I want.” I echoed his words from earlier.
He stared down at my hand, then lifted his, covering it. We gazed at each other, and our breathing picked up. He held my hand tighter, pressing it into his skin.
“Reid,” I whispered.
He tilted his head. “What?” he whispered back.
“Are you ever going to kiss me?”
He inched closer, and I leaned toward him. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes.”
Like magnets, we came together. His lips hovered over mine, his breath lightly fanning my face. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you.”
“I wanted you to,” I replied. “So stop talking.”
His lips pressed, light and fleeting. Then again, lingering longer. A third time, they touched, moving and teasing. Still light and soft. I moaned, sliding my hand up his neck to his hair, twisting the strands.
“More,” I breathed against his lips.
His hand cupped the back of my head, and he molded his mouth to mine. Our lips moved, and his tongue slid along my bottom lip in a silent plea. His groan when our tongues met was low and rough. He slid his arm around my waist, yanking me close. Still, his mouth was tender, adoring, and sweet. With gentle sweeps of his tongue along mine, he held me captive with his lips. He never pushed or groped. I felt his adoration and the way he was holding himself back. He tugged again, pulling me tight to his torso, and I gripped his leg to steady myself, brushing his erection. He jerked, pulling back. His glasses were askew and smudged, his breathing erratic.
“Sorry,” I murmured.
“I think I should be the one saying I’m sorry.”
I dared to run my fingers over him again, feeling the hard length of him. “Don’t be sorry.”
He covered my hand, swallowing hard. “You-you can’t do that.”
“We’re both adults.”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
I kissed him. “Okay.”
He sighed and pressed his fingers to his mouth. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but . . .”
I cupped his face. “It’s okay, Reid. I’m not in any rush. Can I at least kiss you again?”
He yanked me back to his chest. “Fuck yes.”
“I need to cut your hair.”
He smiled against my head. We had moved to the sofa and kissed for what seemed an eternity. We explored each other’s mouth, learning what the other liked. So far, it was everything. After, we simply cuddled. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had been happy to cuddle on my sofa.
“Okay, cut my hair.”
“I have to get up.” I was curled into his side, his arm wrapped securely around me.
He dropped a kiss to my forehead and stood. I tried not to stare at the ample bulge in his pants and failed. I lifted my head, meeting his eyes, rubbing my hands up his thighs. “Are you sure I can’t . . .”
“No. Once we know each other.”
I let him pull me up, and I told him to go and get his hair wet in the bathroom. I moved the dishes from the counter and found my scissors. He came back from the bathroom, his hair wet, and the towel draped over his shoulders. I tried not to be disappointed he hadn’t removed his shirt. He sat in the chair I had brought from the bedroom, and I briskly toweled his hair. We were quiet as I combed and snipped. I tapped his knees so he would open his legs, and I stepped between them, concentrating on his long bangs. He slid his hands along my thighs, settling them on my hips.
“So are you and your dad close?” he asked.
“Yes. He had to become both Mom and Dad, you know. He gave up a job he loved to be there for me.”
“His job?”
“We lived in Vancouver. He was a street cop, and he worked a lot of shifts.”
Reid’s hands tightened on my hips. “Your dad’s a cop?”
“Retired now.”
He seemed tense, so I stopped cutting and lifted his chin. “You okay?”
He nodded, not saying anything. I bent and dropped a kiss to his lips. “I won’t cut you, and I won’t make you look funny.” Smiling, he dropped his face, but I noticed the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“What did you mean he gave it up?” he asked.
“I was too young for him to be gone so much with shifts. He transferred to Victoria and took a job as desk sergeant. He did straight days so he would be home with me at night and on weekends. Where we lived was quiet, and there wasn’t really much crime.” I paused as I measured his hair, making sure I was cutting straight. “He hated it. He never said a word to me about it, but I knew it. He was bored and he missed being on the street. But he did it for me. So I didn’t have to worry about losing him as well.”
Reid’s voice was edgy. “He sounds like a great guy.”
“He is. Gruff and hard-nosed, but he’s my dad,” I chuckled. “Growing up, he was strict with me. He had rules I had to follow, and he watched over me carefully. He wouldn’t allow me to date until I was sixteen, and even then, I didn’t date much. My dad scared them away, I think.”
Reid made a funny noise in his throat. His hands slipped off my hips, and I moved to the back, trimming the bottom of his hair. “I didn’t really mind. I was busy with school and I hung with my girlfriends. I was on the swim team, and I loved to run. Boys weren’t a big thing. He was looking out for me and, really, his rules were easy to follow.”
He grunted.
“He did so much for me,” I continued. “I wanted to make him proud. He had a stroke a few years ago and could no longer live on his own. He’s in an assisted living place—he has a small apartment and is doing well. There’s a dining room where he goes for his meals, and he has a tiny area where he makes snacks, coffee, that sort of thing. He has a lot of friends in the same place, and he is happy and settled. He stays busy, and his health is good. I don’t have to worry he is alone, you know?”
“Was it hard to leave him?”
“Yes. He was insistent I go. He knew how much I wanted to spread my wings, and he said it was time. I know Richard and Katy check on him. They take the girls to see him on occasion too. And I plan to fly home every couple of months.” I toweled his hair and combed it through one last time. “I talk to him every few days. He makes sure I am behaving myself. Following his guidelines.”
“Guidelines?”
I stood in front of him, brushing off his shoulders. “Yep. The same rules as when I was young and he talked to me about dating and how I should be treated. ‘They disrespect you in any fashion, you walk. They give you trouble, you call me. If you’re afraid, find a safe place and I will come get you.’” I smiled at him with a shrug. “Dads. I guess they are a protective lot.”
“Your dad was right. You should be treated well. Like a queen.”
I fluffed his hair. I had a feeling Reid would treat me better than well, and my dad would have no complaints.