“Do tell.”
I shake my head. “I’m joking. I didn’t have my first kiss until I was eighteen, and that same guy also took my virginity. So, clearly I suck at life…” I pause to see him smiling now. I place my hands on the table and lean forward. “How many partners have you had, Gunner?” His smile disappears at my words. “Oh, do you not want to share? I think it’s only fair since I have shared so much.”
He picks up his coffee and puts it to his mouth. “Only one that counts.”
And he’s just made me lose my train of thought at his words.
“That’s a good answer. I’m guessing it’s high, and this is why you don’t want to tell me?”
“Do you really want to know? I told you they meant nothing to me. Most never lasted longer than three months.”
Suddenly, I’m not very hungry anymore.
“I think I should go home.”
He hands me keys, and I see they’re for my car. “I had your car brought here.”
“Thanks for…” I look around, “… breakfast.”
He gets up as well and walks me to the door. I see my car out front. Gunner’s place is not an apartment, it’s a house, and a good-sized one too. I love it. He picked really well.
Walking out, I don’t look back until I get in my car. I watch as he closes the door and I bang my head against the steering wheel, wondering why I asked that question, and now I really want to know the answer. This can’t work if he keeps things from me.
Getting back out, I walk up and find his door is unlocked. I call his name with no answer. Walking to his bedroom, I hear the shower, but there’s no sign of him. Stepping up to the door, my breathing becomes deeper and I want to know, I want to know if we can really work. I really hope and pray we can, because no other man has made me feel anything close to what Gunner makes me feel. And that fact I know with certainty.
“Gunner.” My hand touches the door, and just as it does, he opens it, naked. My eyes roam him from head to toe, stopping at his cock on the way, which is hard as he stares at me.
“Everly,” he whispers.
I want to lean into him and taste him. I’ve missed the way he tastes, the way his body feels against mine.
“Did you forget something?” he asks, his cock still standing tall. He doesn’t go to touch me, and I respect that he’s keeping his distance. But he’s not shy by any means.
“Yes,” a whisper leaves my mouth as I make my eyes move up to his.
“Everly, you need to speak.”
Oh, yes, shit!
“I want to go on a date with you. Take me on a date.”
“It would be inappropriate to kiss you right now, wouldn’t it?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
“I should go,” I say, but don’t move.
“Everly, you need to go before I bring you into this shower with me.”
That snaps me out of it.
Yes, I would love to get into the shower with him, but I’m also not stupid.
Taking it slowly doesn’t mean fucking your ex-husband the minute you see him naked.
Though, most wouldn’t blame me for doing so.
He’s waiting for me when I arrive home the next day. I knew he would be because his text message from the night before told me so. And when I closed my eyes to sleep, all I could see was Gunner—naked.
“Do you need to change?” he asks while looking me up and down.
“Depends. Where we are going?”
He smirks at my words. “No boat, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He winks. And just as he says it, I’m thinking about the boat. About how much I want to be on that boat right now with him behind me. “Mind out of the gutter, Everly.”
“I’ll wear this, if it’s okay?” I ask, looking at his dark washed jeans and blue shirt. He nods and opens his car door, holding it for me. I get in and take a deep breath.
I’m going on a date with my ex-husband, and I have butterflies in my stomach.
Big, beautiful, butterflies.
“How was your day?” he asks.
I shrug. “It was okay.”
I was nervous all day, waiting for this moment.
What’s he going to do?
Is it going to be something big and scare me?
Or is he going to take me back to his, in hopes I will have sex with him?
Not that I would mind that last option.
We don’t drive for long, and once we arrive, he gets out and walks around to my side of the car. I notice where we are straight away and I smile.
“Indian,” I say.
He nods, taking my hand in his, and I don’t flinch as we walk inside.
“Mr. Reid, your table and food is ready. This way, please.”