Yes, there were things about him that rubbed her the wrong way, but she was discovering she could overlook those things when his good traits were so much more important. He was still impatient and bossy and overprotective, and somewhat gruff. But he was also considerate, appreciative of the little things—like when she made him dinner—and he could turn his more irritating quirks into positives in bed.
Of course, good sex wasn’t the only key to a successful relationship, but it sure went a long way toward making it better.
Ashlyn pulled up to Slate’s small beach house and smiled. She loved his place. It wasn’t fancy; from the outside it looked pretty rough, in fact. But she’d been inside a time or two, and he’d done a great job of making it homey and comfortable.
She parallel parked on the street in front of his house and made her way up to the door. It opened before she could even knock.
She’d spent way too long trying to decide what to wear on their date. Slate had seen her in everything from jeans to shorts to bathing suits, but since this was their first official date, she wanted to look nice. She’d decided on a flowy skirt that ended just past her knees, a V-neck light blue blouse, and a pair of strappy sandals that she thought accentuated her calves.
It had only been a couple days since Ashlyn had last seen him, but when he opened his door, he looked even better than she remembered. Instead of his uniform, he wore a pair of jeans and a navy-blue collared shirt. His black hair framed his square jaw perfectly. He had a slight hint of five o’clock shadow, and Ashlyn couldn’t wait to feel the scratchy skin against her sensitive thighs once again.
Blushing at how her thoughts immediately turned to sex, she smiled up at him. “Hi. I hope I’m not late.”
“Only a few minutes,” Slate said in the deep rumbly voice she knew so well. “Come in.”
Ashlyn was well aware that Slate hated when people were late. It seemed to be ingrained in his DNA to be on time or early. But she didn’t hear even one iota of irritation in his voice. It was somewhat surprising, but she wasn’t going to look that gift horse in the mouth.
His hand was warm on her lower back as she walked into his living room, and it was all Ashlyn could do not to spin around and jump the man. God, she’d turned into a sex fiend after just two times together. It was almost embarrassing. But when she caught a glimpse of the bulge in Slate’s jeans, she didn’t feel so guilty.
“I made reservations for seven-thirty, so we’ve got a bit of time before we have to leave. You want to sit on the roof deck for a bit?”
“Yes.” Ashlyn didn’t even have to think about her answer. His roof deck was the best part of the place. He’d built it himself, after getting approval from the owner. The house was a block back from the beach, but when sitting on the roof, it almost seemed as if they were right on the sand. The last time she’d been at his place with a few of their friends, the sun was setting and it had been one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.
Then, something else he said sank in. “Wait, seven-thirty? I thought you said reservations were for seven.”
“I lied,” he said without remorse. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to get here on time, so I gave us a cushion.”
Ashlyn frowned and put her hands on her hips. “I think I’m offended,” she told him.
“No, you aren’t,” he retorted, wrapping an arm around her waist and yanking her close.
She landed against him with a small oof. When he leaned down and took her lips with his, she forgot about being irritated. In fact, she forgot about everything.
They’d kissed before, but this one seemed more leisurely. He took his time, teasing with small nips and licks before enticing her to open for him.
By the time they pulled apart, Ashlyn didn’t even remember what they’d been talking about. But he quickly reminded her.
“I hate being late, so I figured I’d give us some breathing room, just in case.”
Ashlyn couldn’t muster up the energy to be pissed. He’d mellowed her with a single kiss. He’d already figured her out…and that didn’t bode well for her in the future.
“Whatever,” she huffed.
Slate grinned. “Come on, I brought glasses and wine up right before you arrived.”
Okay, that was sweet. And he couldn’t have thought she’d be too late if he’d already brought the wine up to the deck.
She walked up the stairwell with Slate at her heels. Under ordinary circumstances, she would’ve been a bit worried walking up the stairs, but she knew without a doubt that Slate wouldn’t let her fall. The only other time she’d gone up to the deck she’d been a nervous wreck because the steps were both small and steep, but she didn’t have Slate at her back that time.
She opened the door at the top of the stairs and sighed in contentment as she walked into the warm evening air. Slate had built a small alcove of sorts, with a roof in case it was raining and he wanted to sit up there, but for the most part it was a simple design. A flat surface of thick boards with a couple of chairs and a small table. There was a short railing around the deck, maybe four feet high at most, making the area feel safe but not hemmed in at all. In the distance, over the rooftops of the houses on the other side of the street, was the ocean. If she listened carefully, Ashlyn could hear the waves breaking on the shore.
“I love it up here,” she said on a sigh.
“I know.”
She turned to look at Slate. “You do?”
“Yup. I watched you when you were up here last time, and it was obvious how much pleasure you got from the view.”
It somewhat surprised Ashlyn that he’d taken notice, since that had been at least three months ago, but it warmed her heart knowing that he’d paid attention to her even back then.
“Here, sit. I’ll get you a glass of wine,” Slate said, gesturing to one of the extremely comfortable Adirondack chairs she would have considered snatching the last time she was there if she could figure out how to get it off the roof and into her car without Slate noticing.
Ashlyn never drank anything if she knew she’d be driving—ever—but she didn’t want to make a big deal out of her quirks. She sat down and immediately sighed in contentment as she stared into the distance at the rolling waves.
Slate handed her the glass of white wine, and she took a tiny sip as he settled into the chair next to hers. He’d poured himself a glass as well.
“You like wine?” she asked, not able to remember seeing him drink any before.
He shrugged. “Yeah. Why?”
“I don’t know, it just seems…not you.”
“It wouldn’t be my first choice of a relaxing drink, but I know you like it, and sharing a glass while sitting on my deck with a beautiful woman seemed appropriate.”
She smiled. God, that was such a nice thing to say.
“I could go downstairs and get a can of beer, guzzle it, then crush the can on my forehead if that would make you feel more comfortable,” Slate said with a grin.
Ashlyn burst out laughing. “No, this is perfect. Thanks.” And it was. Seeing the delicate glass in his large calloused hand was somehow sexy. She knew firsthand how gentle those hands could be, and how good they felt on her skin.
“How private is this deck?” she asked, looking around, trying to figure out if people could see them from the windows in the surrounding houses.