The kissing continues, too soft. Not enough pressure. Looking at this man, the way he enjoys life, tastes life, I would have assumed he’d grab me roughly by now. If he did, I wouldn’t protest. But he’s so careful with me, and my body reacts with a demand for more.
He deepens the kiss slightly, licking the seam of my lips. I open my mouth and let him slip his tongue inside.
Suddenly, the kitchen door opens, and I snap away from him. My body instantly regrets the distance between us, even if my logical mind is relieved.
“Cherise! What are you doing here?”
My sister, dressed in a kitchen uniform, strides over to the table with a platter full of chocolate-covered strawberries, plus a salted caramel dipping sauce decorated with a crown of raspberries.
“Serving you dessert, silly.”
I blink at her. “I see that. But why? How?”
“You want to tell her, or should I?” Cherise asks, looking at Milo.
“Be my guest,” Milo says with a nod.
Cherise beams at me. “I have a new job!”
I shriek. There’s nothing else to do but shriek, then get up and hug my sister. “Can you believe it?”
I’m so happy for my sister, but I’m so stunned that neither she nor Milo told me about this new job he’s hired her to do. This is a massive break for her, as she’s been working odd jobs in the business since she was 16 years old.
I force her to sit down and share some of the incredible desserts she’s made. When we finish celebrating, she sweeps away our dishes and disappears into the kitchen, letting me know she’ll leave us alone and that she’ll see me at Mom and Dad’s house tomorrow.
Turning back to Milo, I press my lips against his cheek. “Thank you,” I whisper close to his ear, nuzzling his earlobe. His sigh is almost undetectable, but I feel it.
“Cecily, I don’t know what you mean by saying you’ve got no experience because your moves are making me fucking crazy.”
His jaw ticks under his scruff, and I can’t help myself. I have to nip at it.
“Hey,” he says, a smile in his voice. “Remember when you said you were worried about what to wear to dinner?”
“Yeah,” I say, nipping and teasing his scruff and his jawline with my lips and teeth.
“Well, now I’m sorta thinking you’re overdressed. ’Cause what you’re doing is making me want to violate whatever you’ve got going on under that hoodie you’re wearing.”
“Mm. Better keep your hands on the table where I can see ’em,” I say. “No funny business, mister.”
Surprisingly, Milo obeys. He rests his hands face down on the table and shoots me a darker expression than I would have thought possible for this big ol’ teddy bear.
This provokes me to be bad. I want to see how far I can push before he loses control. I want to play. Oh god, it’s been so long since I messed around, and Milo has opened the floodgates. I believe his words; I believe he’s not trying for a one-night stand or a fling. I believe the things he’s told me, and whether this thing between us lasts or not, he’s just so damn fun to kiss and lick and fool around with.
I find myself brazenly nibbling and sucking his earlobe and pressing one hand against his thigh. Milo catches my lips in his in a slightly deeper kiss than before.
“Cecily.” He whispers my name. He’s so tender with me, despite being so big and masculine. I half expect him to throw me down on the cushions of this booth and have his way with me. But he doesn’t do any of that. He simply strokes my hair and touches my face while we kiss for five, ten, fifteen minutes. I don’t actually know how long.
I have so many questions. There’s so much I want to know about him. I need to pump the brakes, but my body doesn’t care. It just wants to have fun. Explore. Be on a date with someone who doesn’t pressure me but lets me decide the speed of things.
And as a result of letting me set the pace, I’m more turned on than ever.
Milo’s lips kiss a path from my mouth to my jaw, down my neck. “Cecily,” he whispers again, sending chill bumps across my chest. He may not be trying to grope me, but his breath against my neck has my nipples puckering beneath this oversized hoodie. The fabric of my bra suddenly feels uncomfortable even though it’s the best, most comfortable bra I’ve ever owned.
Milo kisses back up my neck, his lips landing on my ear. He nuzzles the shell of it with his nose and lips. I suck in a breath at the heat this produces deep in my belly. I want to be surrounded by this man and to let him do what he wants to me.
I slide my hands across his wide shoulders and over his broad chest. This touching elicits a deep groan from his throat, barely audible. I feel it more than I can hear it. My greedy fingers climb up his stomach beneath his sweater. “Hang on,” he says, pulling his hands from the table so we can both work his sweater off over his head. I toss it aside and unbutton the top button of his shirt. “Hands back on the table, sir.”
Milo’s chest rises and falls at a steadily quicker pace as I unbutton another button and run my fingers through the soft fuzz over his pecs. Continuing our playful kissing, I brush my thumb over his nipple, feeling it stiffen against my fingertip. Milo grunts at my teasing; I go back and forth over that nipple and watch the chill bumps spread like wildfire under the fuzz on his chest.