“But now you don’t have to keep your mind off how much you want to kiss me,” she murmurs as she leans across the table, brushing a kiss across my lips.
My eyes slide closed, and electricity skitters through me like a tattoo needle drawn along the surface of my skin, setting my nerve endings to sizzling. The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but by the time Melody sits back down, my jeans are already tighter than they were before.
The way she affects me is just…wild.
It’s going to be hell keeping my hands off her.
Still, I can’t help but wish she’d agreed to the ten-date minimum. For some reason, the more I get to know her and want her, the more I want to wait until she’s absolutely, one hundred percent sure.
“I don’t think we should count this as date one,” I say as we dig into our food—waffles and bacon for me, strawberry crepes and sausage on the side for her. “I want to take you somewhere nice for our first date.”
“This is plenty nice,” Melody says. “I’m not a high-maintenance girl, Nick. I’m just as happy at a diner as a fancy restaurant.” She shrugs and stabs another bite of crepe. “And I know neither of us has a lot of money to throw around right now.”
“I thought you just got a raise,” I say, teasing.
She rolls her eyes while she chews. “Yeah, two hundred dollars a month, right in time for my rent to go up a hundred and fifty dollars in October. My landlord is a monster.”
“My landlord is cool,” I say. “John and I rent a place above a bodega near the bowling alley. It’s not in the best part of town, and it smells like sandwiches sometimes, but it’s huge and only five hundred a month.”
“You’re kidding me.” Her eyes widen as she shakes her head. “Maybe I should look into something near downtown. I just hate to move.”
“Moving fucking blows,” I agree, pausing when I realize what I’ve said. “Sorry about that.”
“About what?” she asks, cocking her head.
“You know, the cursing. Over breakfast.” I shrug and stuff another bite into my mouth. I’ve never heard Melody cuss, not even a “damn” or “shit” when she dropped a giant bag of flour on her toe a few weeks back.
“Oh, that.” She waves a breezy hand. “As long as you’re not being mean to me or someone else, I don’t give a fuck about your language,” she says sweetly.
I choke on my waffle in response, and Melody starts laughing. Hard. By the time I recover enough to suck down a drink of water, she’s still grinning with a satisfied gleam in her eyes.
“Proud of yourself, aren’t you?” I ask. “Are you always this unpredictable?”
“I don’t know.” Her smile widens. “I confess I’m not totally myself lately. I’ve been trying new things, pushing my boundaries…” She shrugs. “So far, I’ve been enjoying a little unpredictability in my life. That okay with you?”
“That’s more than okay with me,” I say, my appreciation clear in my tone. “But I’m still not tattooing you.”
Her lips push into a pout. “Why not? I wasn’t joking. I really love your work. I haven’t been able to get that phoenix out of my head.”
I almost confess that I don’t tattoo girls I’m sleeping with—not since I was twenty and Kenzie threatened to cut my dick off for working on her the day before I broke up with her. I assumed she would just be glad to have received the tattoo free of charge, but she hadn’t seen things that way.
Instead, I bite my lip. Melody isn’t just another girl I’m sleeping with. We haven’t even slept together, and it’s already more than that, so…
“Give it six months,” I say, stabbing another bite of waffle. “If you still want it then, I’ll do it in exchange for a kiss and a pan of that shepherd’s pie you made for the Downey wedding.”
“Sounds like a deal.” She smiles, but it isn’t one of her usual smiles. There’s something…anxious beneath the surface of that smile. Anxious, but excited.
I recognize the feeling because hell, I feel it, too. I’m not sure what’s happening between us, but so far, every moment I spend with Melody is better than the last.
We finish our meal and head back to the shop. I drive her home in her car, assuring her I can catch the bus back across town to my place.
“The Midget doesn’t work half the time, so I have the bus schedule memorized,” I say, lingering in her doorway. “I had fun tonight. Well, most of tonight.”
“Me, too,” she says, leaning against the doorframe. The lamplight from inside catches her hair, turning it into a halo that glows around her face. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Thank you for giving me a chance to show you I’m not always an asshole.”