I can still feel her on my fingertips. That’s the most infuriating part.
Even after seeing how shaken she is, my body doesn’t quiet down. I’m aching for her.
“Okay,” she says after a long pause. “Whatever you think is best.”
I nod, offering her handbag. She takes it and our fingers brush, causing a spark to shoot up my arm.
I wonder if she feels it too, any time we make physical contact, the cacophony of sensations, that compulsive drive to get closer, to explore each other further.
Then she shoulders her bag and the moment is gone.
“What about our food?” she asks.
“I asked them to box it up. It should be ready.”
She looks over at me, pouting in that way I can’t stand for long. If I return her gaze when she’s looking like that, all sassy and kissable, bratty like she needs to be tamed… it’ll be the dinner all over again. I’ll grab her, kiss her, lose my cool and push up her skirt and take her right here in the alleyway.
After collecting the food, we walk down the street toward the car.
“Are you angry with me?” Penny asks softly.
“No. I’m angry with myself.”
“What?” She stops walking for a moment, then continues. “Why would you say that?”
Groaning, I tell her, “Because that’s not the sort of thing I do. I’ve never done anything like that. It was clearly too much, too fast. But I couldn’t help myself.”
I hold the car door open for her.
When she reaches over for her seatbelt, I have to focus on not reaching down and touching her. It’s the way the belt strap cuts across her breasts, emphasizing their fullness.
“So what changed?” she asks, staring down at her hands as though she can’t look at me. “You said you never do that sort of thing.”
I hear something in her tone. “You don’t believe me.”
“Is that a question?”
“No. It’s the truth, isn’t it?” I say, resigned.
She sighs heavily. “It’s not that. It’s just… heck, okay, maybe a little bit. But do you really expect me to believe that’s the first time you’ve ever done anything like that? It all seemed to come so naturally to you.”
I almost laugh. She’s right. It did come naturally, but not because I’m a seasoned pickup artist who enjoys public displays of affection. Or lust.
It’s because I’m naturally inclined to maul this woman. To paint every inch of her alluring skin with my touch, my lips, my seed.
“Is something funny?” she hisses.
I flatten my smirking lips. “I swear, Penny, I’ve never done anything like that before. I’ve never done anything in public. I’ve never…”
Maybe I should tell her the full truth, but I can’t risk scaring her away. I’ve already come too close to that.
“Preston?”
I’ve never felt this way before. You’re the only woman I want. Forever.
Caution makes me stop. I can’t rush into this. It’s not just because of what happened with Lena, what rushing into that led to.
It’s the way my Penny just reacted.
If she thinks some borderline public lust is too much, how would she react if I told her she belongs to me, now and forever, and that nothing is ever going to change that?
“I’ve never lost control like that,” I tell her, which is true without revealing everything. “It was the emotion, the closeness. I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”
“Promise?” she whispers. “That’s really the first time?”
The phrase first time ricochets through me. I wonder…
“I promise,” I tell her.
“Heck,” she mutters. “I’m sorry. It’s just so hard to believe you’d be that attracted to me.”
I grind my teeth. “Penny, I hate it when you talk like that. There’s no need for it. You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
She folds her arms. It seems like the end of the conversation, at least for now.
I start the car, wishing I could turn back time, make it so I never kissed her.
Fuck. That.
The response is instant. There’s no situation where I could regret that kiss.
It was too perfect.
“That’s not something I do, either, by the way,” she says as I drive us through the city.
“Date? I know.”
She laughs. That in itself feels like a sign this is all going to work. She wouldn’t be laughing if there was no chance here, would she… unless she’s being polite, stretching out the conversation until she can get out of the car.
Every part of me rebels against that idea. I can’t accept it, can’t believe for a second she didn’t feel it too.
But what’s it?
A connection, a spark, the beginning of the rest of our lives together?
“Well, yeah, that,” she says. “But walking out of a date too. I didn’t mean to.”
“It was fast,” I say, nodding.
“I… it was fun,” she says, hesitating for a moment. “I enjoyed it. Heck, that sounds like the understatement of the century.”
“You enjoyed it that much, eh?” I smirk.
More laughter comes from her, making it easier to smile.