Malcolm reaches across the table and opens his hand, palm up.
Slowly I lift mine and place it in his. My eyes flutter as his fingers encase mine. The energy at our connection ripples through me, waking me and bringing my tired body back to life. It’s like electricity recharging me after my long day at work, my concerns over Jase’s kindergarten class, and life in general. For only a moment, I fantasize how it would be to have Malcolm’s warmth and support every evening.
“You’re too far away.”
My gaze moves back to his blue eyes and his sexy smile. “I am? We’re touching.”
His brow lifts suggestively. “Not in as many places as I’d like.”
“Didn’t you promise me dinner and drinks?”
“I did.” Just as he speaks, the waitress arrives with glasses of water, a glass of moscato, and another of beer.
Once she’s gone, Malcolm verbalizes my thoughts. “After a long day at work, it’s nice to sit here and talk, sharing a drink and touching.”
I nod, especially liking the last one. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“Tell me about your job.”
I take a deep breath and let it out. “Can all that wait?”
We’ve spoken on the phone every night since Sunday. Sometimes it’s for a few minutes; other nights it’s until way past my normal bedtime. It seems as though all the things I worried about aren’t truly concerns. Malcolm likes coffee, all day during the cold months and definitely every morning. Besides chocolate syrup, he does enjoy an occasional cookie, brownie, and has never turned down birthday cake. Like any normal human being, he prefers buttercream frosting to fondant or whipped. Who doesn’t? He also enjoys reading, more so than any other man I’ve known. I’ve never been able to talk books with anyone except Sally, and I like the discussions Malcolm and I have shared. We both agree that releasing Go Set a Watchman was a mistake. He’s also addicted to Netflix originals and suggested we go to the movies sometime, though he’s tired of remakes and thinks Hollywood needs some new original ideas.
I couldn’t agree more.
It’s the real-life issues that we’ve kept to a minimum.
“Wait for what?” he asks.
“I don’t really know. I think I want to enjoy being with you without it being too real. My job has its ups and downs. I love the company I work for and my coworkers. My manager can be a real bitch...” The fingers from my other hand fly to my lips. It’s one thing to say that to Sally, but I don’t know Malcolm well enough to talk that way, and I don’t want him to think less of me.
Before I can take it back, his laugh resonates, filling the space of our booth and reverberating through me. “Now don’t get all shy on me. I guarantee I heard worse expletives from your lips than that one each time you came apart with me buried deep inside you.”
My eyes widen as I giggle at his observation. “I guess…I didn’t realize…”
He leans across the table, squeezing my hand and lowering his voice. “You didn’t realize you like to yell fuck when you’re coming apart.”
I suck my upper lip between my teeth to squelch my grin and slowly shake my head. “No. I didn’t realize.”
His blue eyes dance in amusement. “Then I’m quite proud of myself.”
“You are?”
“Yes, I had you so distracted you didn’t know what you were saying.”
My cheeks warm as blood rushes to the surface.
“By the way, you were also confessing your undying love for me.”
This time my lips purse. “I think you’re exaggerating.”
“Maybe a little.”
We release one another’s hand as we lift our respective glasses.
“To you,” Malcolm proposes his toast. “To us, and to avoiding nice women and men with erectile issues.”
I nearly spit out my wine as I take a sip.
Though we avoid discussing anything too revealing, the conversation never lags. Like the first night and all the nights on the phone, talking to him is easy and fun. Through our meal and as we sip a cup of coffee to postpone the inevitable goodbye, we laugh, smile, and simply chat. It’s refreshing and new, exciting yet comfortable. Our date, the evening as a whole, is everything I’ve wanted—times a thousand. It’s almost eleven when Malcolm pays the bill.
“My place?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I want to.” And I do. “But my friend is watching Ja—” I stop before I say Jase’s name. “My son. If I get back too much later, she'll never stop asking questions.”
Malcolm reaches for my hand and our fingers intertwine. “Let me walk you to your car. I promised to be a gentleman. That means there’s a door to open.”
The night air holds the slight chill of impending autumn as we walk across the nearly empty parking lot. As we approach my car, his grip of my hand tightens, and he lowers his lips to my ear. “Did I mention how stunning you are tonight?”
Instinctively, I turn and brush my lips over his. “You're very handsome, too.”
“That dress is lovely, but…” His words trail into the night.
We’re now at my car. I’m leaning against it and looking up at him. With only the tall lights of the parking lot, his features are shadowed. His protruding brow is more pronounced, and his shoulders seem wider. What I said is true. Malcolm is handsome, incredibly so.
“But?” I ask, prompting him to go on.
“For the last five days, I've imagined you the way you were, on your knees, fully exposed…” He leans closer. Even in his jeans his erection is prominent. “…and I want to see you that way again.”
Maybe it’s the coffee we just drank, but I’m pretty sure what I’m feeling is brought on by more than caffeine. His proximity, words, and tone comprise the accelerant making my blood race. My insides tighten in a painful knot of desire, confirming that despite my declining his invitation, I want to go with him. I want more tonight than a good girl’s dinner and drinks.
“Malcolm…”
Before I can say more, his lips capture mine and his fingers twist my low ponytail until my head moves backward. All at once his kisses pepper my neck, my exposed skin, sending heat to my chilled flesh. My body’s on fire and this sweet, sexy man is the match. It’s his spark that ignites the inferno.
“When…?” His voice is gravelly with desire.
I can’t think about anything except the raging blaze within me. I’m consumed by his lips, the way they kiss and suck. His teeth, the way they nip and bite. His beard, the way it tickles and prickles. And the part of him that is hard and pressed against my stomach, reminding me what could be.
“When can I see you again…like that?” he asks again.
“I’ll try.” It’s all I can promise, but as my response hangs in the night air, my hand seems to develop a mind of its own, dropping to the front of his jeans and rubbing his erection with all my force. Below my fingers as I move up and down across the coarse denim, he hardens and grows. It’s such a primal response, yet as his eyes close and breath stutters, I’m reminded of something I’d forgotten. His reaction reminds me that even with a tall, handsome man like Malcolm, I am a woman with the ability to affect him. It’s empowering and makes me want more.