He dropped her hand and brought his fingers to the small of her back, the heat of his palm searing right through the white cotton of her shirt and making sweat spring out from beneath her breasts. “Promise me you won’t overthink tonight,” he said, holding the door open for her. “We’ve already slept together. We’ve already eaten together. Don’t think of this as our first date, if that makes it easier. Think of this as our … ” He wrinkled his crooked nose at the same time he reclaimed her hand and led her down the hall toward his kitchen. “Think of this as an anniversary dinner. Because technically it’s been two months since that night at the bar. And I don’t know about you, but I’d like to keep that night, that date as our official they became a couple date.” He made air quotes with his free hand.
“You’re considering that drunken night in the hotel—”
“Uh-uh, you weren’t drunk, remember? I don’t fuck drunk chicks. At least not the first time I fuck them. Now if you decide to get a little tipsy tonight and climb up my body like it’s a jungle gym, I can’t say I’ll be as much of a gentleman as I was on our first date.”
She snickered, the smile he pulled from her easing all her previous anxiety. It was hard not to relax and be herself around Scott. He just made it so easy.
They entered the kitchen, and she was immediately greeted by an enormous bouquet of spring flowers sitting on the counter in a vase.
“Zara at Flowers on 5th did up the arrangement for me. She’s the best. I hope you like them.” Unease flitted across his features, hanging in his eyes.
She reached for the vase, releasing his hand, and brought one of the flowers to her nose. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
His smile was back, and this time it was cocky. “You can keep the vase too. Came with the bouquet.”
“Thank you.”
No longer unsure and back to being comfortable, large and in charge in his own element, Scott grabbed the bottle of wine off the counter. “It’s been breathing for over an hour. Guy at the liquor store said this one is, and I quote, totally bitchin’, dude.” He poured them each a glass and handed her hers.
“Was your wine connoisseur a twenty-one-year-old beach bum named Seth?”
One eyebrow ascended up his forehead. “Why Seth?”
She lifted one shoulder. “I dunno. It just strikes me as the name of a surfer with short blond dreads, piercing blue eyes and dimples like he’s been shot in the face with a nail gun.”
“That was very specific. There’s gotta be a story here.”
“I may or may not have had a fling with a twenty-one-year-old blond, blue-eyed nomadic surfer named Seth.” She put her nose into the wineglass and inhaled. “My family rented a house on Cannon Beach in Oregon for a month the summer I turned seventeen, and Seth washed up on shore one afternoon while Celeste and I were sunbathing on the sand.”
“And he was the love of your life that got away?”
“Not quite. He took my virginity, got my name stick-and-poke tattooed on his hip by some random guy around a bonfire one night, then vanished a week later.”
Scott’s lip twitched. “So what you’re saying is that I have enormous shoes to fill if I want to be better than the vagabond surfer who deflowered you.”
“I’m not sure I ever saw him wear shoes, but yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”
He lifted his glass. “Well, this wine guy was not named Seth. He was probably my dad’s age with a ring in his ear, long gray beard, no hair on top, and socks with sandals. But despite his surferesque vernacular—and egregious footwear—he knew a shit-ton about wine.”
“What was his name?”
“Joe.”
Eva snorted. “To Joe, Seth and terrible bachelor and bachelorette parties.”
“May Joe be right about his wine recommendation, may Seth still be alive and not suffering from Hep C, and may we never be invited to another bachelor or bachelorette party ever again.” He clinked her glass with his.
“Hear, hear.”
They each took a sip, their eyes locking over the rims of their glasses.
When the deep, dry red hit Eva’s tongue, her eyes widened in pleasant surprise.
Scott’s soulful brown orbs mirrored hers.
He was the first to speak, as she wasn’t quite ready to swallow her sip. “Damn, Joe knows his shit. I will definitely be going back there to speak to Joe. Good ol’ Joe. True definition of not judging a book by its cover. Or in this case, not judging a man by his heinous choice in footwear.” He clucked his tongue before sliding it along his bottom lip and catching a drop of wine. Oh, what Eva would have done to be that drop of wine. “Maybe I should buy Joe a gift certificate to Macy’s so he can go and find himself a nice pair of loafers.”
She tittered into her glass, unable to look at the handsome man currently giving her fuck-me eyes as he took another sip of his wine.
Despite how hilarious their banter was and how much she was enjoying it, her mind kept drifting back to Scott’s sexy bare feet and the promises he’d made over the phone. About licking every inch of her body …
“I’m really glad we were able to make this work,” he said, setting his glass down and stepping toward her. He waited for her to take a sip, then he took her wineglass from her and set it down next to his before he wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her chest against his. “I meant what I said on Wednesday, Eva. I’m in this. I want you. I want us. And I will figure out a way to make it all happen without losing my job.”
Sighing and melting against him, she allowed her arms to drift up and rest on his strong, broad, capable shoulders. “Let’s not talk about that tonight. I’ve put that man away. He’s been shrunken down to virtually nothing, bound with duct tape and stashed in a tiny black box in the darkest, most untouched, unthought-about recesses of my mind. Please don’t be the one to bust him out.”
His smile was small and placid, but it nonetheless made her belly quiver with desire. “As you wish. Voldemort shall not be brought up again.”
She was quick to press her finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. You can’t even call him that. He who must not be named must also not be given a code name. Otherwise, he’ll be set free from his box and I’ll be forced to think about him again.”
Scott’s lips parted and his teeth snagged her finger, the smile on his face devious and wry. “Fair enough.” His expression sobered, but his eyelids fell to half-mast and his nostrils flared. “Besides, there are far better things to discuss and think about tonight anyway, right?” He bit down on the pad of her finger just hard enough to draw a sharp inhale from her lungs. “Far dirtier things.”
Excitement spiraled through her. They were nose to nose now, their breaths mingling. “Far dirtier,” she echoed. She pressed her lips against his, the relief of finally getting to kiss him again hitting her harder than she’d been prepared for.
Scott was quick to take control of the kiss, his grip on her waist tightening at the same time he pried her lips open and wedged his tongue inside. He was a masterful kisser, taking his time, exploring, massaging and coaxing. Without warning or breaking their connection, he lifted her up around the waist, and she found her butt plunked onto the counter. His body encouraged her to spread her knees so he could step between them.