“When you put it like that, how could I possibly say no?”
“That a girl.” He hooks his arm around my shoulder and kisses the side of my head. “Thursday it is. Should we wear matching shirts? Something that says, ‘I’m with her. I’m with him’ with arrows? Or we could wear shirts that say Future Mrs. and Mr.”
“Now you’re getting ahead of yourself. Matching shirts aren’t necessary.”
From the corner of my eye, I can see him bite down on his bottom lip, thinking, processing. “The more I put some thought into it, the more I truly believe we need matching shirts. Think of the endless photo opportunities.”
“If you want me to skip work and go to Six Flags with you, we are not wearing matching shirts.”
“That’s what you think,” he says with a smile.
Why do I feel like come Thursday, I’ll be wearing the same damn shirt as Jason? Probably because it feels next to impossible to say no to this man, even when I’m trying to put my foot down. And yet somehow, I don’t feel I’m losing control here. It feels . . . safe to allow him to take the lead. Occasionally. I won’t let him get too used to it.
The elevator doors open and Jason unwraps his arms from around my waist. The entire ride up, he held me, my back to his chest. It was sweet and romantic, especially when he whispered in my ear how great I smell and how he loves my hair down.
Hand in hand, we walk down the hallway to our respective apartments and then stop at our doors. I shrug out of his jacket and hand it to him. He opens his apartment, tosses the jacket inside, and then turns back to me.
Sighing, he pushes a strand of hair out of my face. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous.”
I smile shyly, knowing his compliment is genuine, straight from the heart.
“I had a great time tonight. Thank you for asking me out.”
“Was it everything you dreamed of?”
“Well, not everything,” I say, licking my lips and letting him get the hint.
“Ah, I see what you’re looking for, that kiss you denied me earlier. But I don’t know now. I think I might want to save it.”
Of course, he’d say that. I shouldn’t expect anything less from him at this point.
So I shrug my shoulders and say, “Your loss.”
I barely have a chance to turn around before he pulls me into his chest and captures my mouth with his. Light at first, he nibbles, testing the area, before he deepens the kiss, tightening his grip on my cheek while his other hand falls to the small of my back, pressing me into his hard body.
Desperation races through my veins as I light up from the inside out. I grip the back of his neck and pull myself closer, reaching up on my tiptoes to gain the best access possible. I open my mouth and swipe my tongue across his, pulling a groan deep from the pit of his chest.
Our breaths mix together, our limbs tangle, and our lips perform a seductive dance as we make out in the hallway.
He tastes so good, like cotton candy.
He feels like stone beneath my fingertips, strong and sturdy.
And the sounds he’s making, the groans into my mouth, it’s my undoing. I wrap a foot around his leg and pull him closer, needing more, wanting more, ready to disrobe right here, right now.
But before I can reach back for the zipper of my dress, Jason is separating us, putting much unwanted distance between us.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
He swipes his mouth, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he stares at me. “Fuck,” he mutters, taking another step back. “Get in your apartment right now, Dottie.”
“No, I don’t want to. I want to make out some more. I want to—”
“Don’t finish that sentence. We are done here. The date is over. Our date will not continue into extracurricular activities.”
“Why the hell not?” I ask, hands on my hips.
“Because, after what you told me at dinner, how other men have taken from you, used you, I want you to be absolutely convinced that it’s you I want. Make me prove myself to you, Dottie, because you deserve that. You deserve for this to be right.” He lifts my hand, kisses the back of it, and then pushes through his apartment door. “Good night, sweet cheeks. Thanks for an amazing night.”
I pout because . . . abs. I wanted to feel his abs. “You’re making me sad.”
“You will appreciate it in the morning, when you wake up wanting me even more.” He winks and then shuts the door to his apartment, leaving me wanting him already.
Chapter Eighty-Six
JASON
“Welcome home, you beautiful, beautiful man,” I shout, pressing a kiss directly on Knox’s lips, who then in return punches me in the gut—well, barely punches me because I’ve gotten smart now and move away before he can make direct contact.
“What the fuck did I tell you about doing that?” Knox says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Emory laughs next to him and like one big happy family, we all enter their apartment.
I’ve been waiting all afternoon for these guys to return. Not only do I want to hear about their trip, but I need to tell them about the most recent development in my life.
I need to show them how there are floating hearts orbiting my head.
I need to gush and gab about the romance that’s taken over every thought of my day.
Heart eyes.
Cupid arrow in my butt.
Call me a goner, because I’m in like.
Yes, like, not love quite yet, but I can see myself getting there.
The excitement is bursting out of me and before they can set their bags down and get settled, I let it out. “I’m going to be a father,” I say, spreading my arms wide, chest heaving, eyes wildly open like saucers.
Knox pauses and spins toward me. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He gives me the lowered brows consternation look. It’s pretty impressive really. “Please for the love of God tell me you didn’t get some random girl knocked up.”
“What? No. Why would you think that?”
With confusion in her brow, Emory says, “Because you said you’re going to be a father.”
“Yeah, someday.” I walk over to their kitchen and pick an apple from their fruit bowl. I take a bite and lean against the counter. “How was your trip?”
Knox shakes his head, confusion clear in his eyes. “No, explain to us what the fuck you’re talking about. What do you mean you’re going to be a father? Is this one of those things where you think you’re going to help parent our baby? Where you turn this into a sitcom in your head? Two men, a lady, and a baby?”
“No, but fuck, I’d watch that show so hard.” I tap my wrist where a watch would be. “Come on, Netflix, let’s get a move on it.” I take another bite of my apple. “So . . . come on, what did your parents say?”
Emory takes a step forward, placing her hand on my forearm. “Jason, are you okay? You seem a little crazed.”
“Crazed? I’m not crazed. I’m just . . .” God, I can’t hold it in any further. “I’m in like!” I shout right before taking another bite of my apple. “I’m in like and I want everyone to know about it. This is only the beginning. Next, I’m going to be a father. Can you see it, little Orson babies running around, all from different countries, all proud to have a dad with the finest ass in baseball?”