Ashlyn grinned and followed suit, once again meeting him at the front of the vehicle. Slate put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the front door.
Surprisingly, he didn’t immediately push her against a wall and strip her naked. Instead, he gestured to the couch with his chin after locking the door. “Have a seat. I’ll grab us something to drink.”
Still turned on, but letting the mellow mood she’d fallen into on the drive back settle over her, Ashlyn headed for his couch. It was a tan micro suede and extremely comfortable. She’d looked into getting one just like it after she’d seen it the first time, but it had been out of her price range.
When Slate appeared next to her with a glass in hand, she opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t want to drink anything because she had to drive later, but he spoke before she could.
“It’s Sprite. I figured you wouldn’t want any alcohol.”
“Thanks,” Ashlyn said, pleased—but not surprised—that he was considering her safety.
He sat next to her, putting the bottle of beer he’d taken out of the fridge on the coffee table. Next, after waiting for her to take a sip of soda, he took the glass from her hand and set it next to his own drink. Then he reached for her.
But instead of pulling her closer, he turned her body to face him and eased her back, pulling her legs up and putting her feet in his lap. Then he slipped off her sandals and began to massage her soles.
“Holy crap. Don’t ever stop that,” Ashlyn groaned.
Slate smiled and kept rubbing.
It was hard to believe she was here. In Slate’s house. Her belly full and with the man she’d crushed on for months, hard, giving her a foot massage.
He’d only turned the kitchen light on, so the room was fairly dark. And quiet. Sighing in contentment, Ashlyn pulled over a small pillow from the end of the couch and stuffed it under her head. Now she could see what Slate was doing and relax at the same time.
Several minutes went by with him massaging her feet before she spoke. “This is nice.”
Slate’s lips twitched.
“I don’t mean the massage. I mean, that’s great. Stupendous, in fact. But I mean…this…hanging out with you. Just being present together in the moment.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Ashlyn felt stupid. But she should’ve known Slate wouldn’t make her feel uncomfortable.
“Yeah, it is. Sometimes with my schedule, and the things I see and hear at work, I forget to live in the moment. To take time to appreciate what I’ve got.”
“You have a family?” she asked.
“Nope. Was hatched from an egg,” Slate said without missing a beat.
Ashlyn nudged him with her foot. “Dork. You know what I mean. I haven’t ever heard you mention your parents or any siblings.”
“Don’t talk much about them,” Slate said as he resumed his massage. “But I’ve got ’em. My older sister is an aide to a Congresswoman in Washington, DC, and my younger brother works on a ranch in Montana.”
“Wow. You guys couldn’t be any more different, huh?” Ashlyn asked.
“Nope. Makes things very interesting when we all get together.”
“And your parents?”
“They live in Idaho on ten acres of land. Mom was a schoolteacher and Dad was an accountant. They’re both retired now, and are loving the quiet life,” Slate said. “What about you?”
“I’m an only child,” Ashlyn said. “I really missed having someone to hang out with when I was growing up. My parents are still together…but I wish they would’ve gotten divorced a long time ago.”
“They don’t get along?” Slate asked. He stopped rubbing her feet and simply rested his arm over her ankles.
“No. For as long as I can remember, they’ve been at each other’s throats. And not in a joking or healthy way. They’d fight, then make up, then a day later they’d be yelling at each other again. My dad spent a lot of time sleeping on the couch.”
“That sucks.”
Ashlyn shrugged. “It is what it is. Lots of kids have it worse than I did. They both had good jobs, so we were never hurting for money. We were solidly middle class. I always had food to eat and clothes to wear.”
“But?” Slate asked.
Ashlyn looked at him. “But what?”
“I hear a but in there. You had your basic needs met, but what else? Where did you fall into the family dynamics?”
Dang, Slate was very observant. “A lot of times, they were too busy sniping at each other to remember they had a kid. And when they did take notice of me, it was to bitch at each other for raising me wrong.” Ashlyn shrugged. “I learned it was better to stay out of their way than to bring attention to myself. I was independent at a pretty early age.”
“Sucks, babe,” Slate said.
“Yeah,” she agreed.
Silence settled between them.
“Sorry for being a downer,” she said after a moment.
“You aren’t. On the contrary, you fascinate me.”
Ashlyn looked at him in surprise.
“You may not have had the best childhood, but despite having bad role models, you’re a loyal friend. You’re a hard worker. You have ambition, and empathy for others. I have no idea where or how you learned all that, with the kind of parents it sounds like you had, but I’m impressed.”
“I learned to pay close attention when I was very young. I needed to gauge the kind of moods my parents were in so I’d know how to interact with them. As I got older, that just continued with others. I observed everyone around me. Simply by watching people who were ugly toward others, and seeing the reactions when someone treated a person with kindness, I decided I wanted to be like the latter and not the former,” Ashlyn explained.
“Well, you’ve definitely succeeded in that,” Slate said.
He couldn’t have said anything to please her more. Some women craved compliments on their looks or material possessions; hearing Slate praise her because she was kind meant the world to her. “Thanks.”
They fell quiet again as Slate started massaging her once more. But this time he didn’t stick to just her feet. His hands moved up her legs, caressing her calves, tickling the backs of her knees.
When he finally shifted his position on the couch, bending one knee and moving to face her, Ashlyn’s heart rate picked up.
She’d worn a skirt to look nice for their first official date. It was loose and comfortable—and at the moment, was absolutely no barrier to Slate’s roaming hands. They slid under the fabric until he was caressing her inner thighs.
Ashlyn couldn’t keep the moan from escaping.
A small smile crept over his face, and when he pulled the gusset of her panties to the side, Ashlyn closed her eyes and spread her legs for him.
It didn’t take long for an orgasm to creep up on her. Slate’s hands were magic, and he knew exactly where and how to touch her to send her soaring.
Minutes later, when she was panting and had stopped shaking from the pleasure he’d given her, Slate said, “I like this skirt.”
Ashlyn couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing.
“I’m serious,” he said. “You have no idea how hard it was for me to keep my hands to myself throughout dinner.”