Page 16 of Dirty Sweet Valentine
“Okay, wait.” I put a hand up to pause her. “Excessive masturbation?” If I didn’t before, I definitely have a semi now.
Kira throws her hands up. “That’s not the point! The point is, I was a virgin, okay? No man before you had ever entered the Garden of Eden.”
I have to adjust my notebook over my groin. “All right, all right.” And maybe that does explain all her “wow”-ing the night of the deed—it was a totally new sensation. Fuck, yeah, that would be surprising. I feel a little bad. “Sorry for assuming.”
“Thank you.” She leans against the band shell, dropping her bag to the ground.
She could still be lying, of course. She has valid reasons for keeping up the pretense.
But something about the look in her eyes tells me she’s sincere. As much as I don’t want to believe it, I do.
And there’s something hot about that too.
I take a step toward her, strategically readjusting the notebook, and lean one shoulder against the wall. “So, really? I was your first?”
She glances up at me, then nods her head, a slight smile on her lips.
Great. Now I sound like the asshole I was afraid this would make me, getting my kicks off of being the one who popped her. That would make me just as bad as Jared. It’s all coming out wrong, so I start over. “I just wish I would have known,” I tell her softly.
“Why, so you could snag my panties as a memento?” Sassy.
“Come on, I’m not a total dick.” I lean in, and I swear she does the same. We’re so close. Thoughts of my article are no longer my priority. Sure, I still need to write it, but now, at this very moment, all I want to do is explore this connection. I wanted to be honest with this girl who had—to use her words—given me her “gift.”
“I would have done things differently.” I reach out to finger a loose strand of her hair, my fingers brushing her cheek as I do. “Gone slower. Made it special somehow.”
She turns her head, locking eyes with me. “I thought it was special just the way it was.”
“You did?” That burning in my chest intensifies.
“Yeah, I did.”
Then all I can do is kiss her, kiss her the way I should have kissed her the first time—slowly, sweetly. She responds perfectly, molding her mouth to mine, sighing softly.
I drop my notebook, put a hand on her cheek and turn into her, taking my time before I slide my tongue between her lips, taking my time yet again before I plunge further into the recesses of her mouth. It’s like reciting poetry, the way she tastes. Like honey-dripped words that dance on my lips before sinking deeper into my soul.
This is how she deserves to be kissed. Sure, my dick is rock-hard and pressing tightly against my jeans, but I can ignore that. For her. Without knowing her that well, the way I suddenly want to, I do know this one thing—Kira Larson is the real deal.
It surprises me, this revelation. It’s not at all where I thought this day was going to go, nor the confrontation itself. But it isn’t unwelcome.
When I finally break away, we’re both breathless. She offers an adorable smile, her lips shining and swollen.
I take a step back from her—both physically and mentally—and look her over. On one hand, I still have a story to write and I shouldn’t let a simple kiss get in the way of a spot on the paper.
On the other, how could I let her walk away? Not again. I need to spend more time with her. I need to know what all of this means. “Look, are you doing anything later? Or now?”
I can’t say for sure if my motivation for asking is to learn more for the article or because I suddenly can’t stand to be away from her. I tell myself I don’t have to decide yet. I can wait and see how the day plays out.
Kira twists a piece of her hair around her finger. “Not really. I’m supposed to meet my friends at The Kitchen, but I can blow them off. Are you inviting me back to your apartment?”
I nearly choke on my own saliva. “Wow, I wasn’t. But now I want to.” Really want to. But haven’t I just decided she’s better than that? That she deserves more? Regardless of what happens with my journalism career, I’m going to take Kira on a proper first date. “I was going to ask if you’d like to grab some coffee.”
Her eyes light up though she tries to hide it. “Coffee could be good. Yeah, let’s do coffee.”
“And my apartment?” Okay, so I’m still a guy. And my dick is throbbing.
She bites her lip as if considering. “Why don’t we play it by ear?”
“I think I can live with that.”
Four
“The Blue Mug okay?” I ask, playing it cool after retrieving my notebook from the ground.
“Duh. Where else would we go?”
Honestly I wasn’t sure. I’ve been told The Blue Mug at Margie’s was the best in town, but frankly, it’s also the only coffee shop I’ve gone to so far. I’m a creature of habit. Plus, it’s close by, only a block away from where we are.
Together we head across the grass, passing a group of guys playing Frisbee golf outside Frasier Hall. I step a little closer to Kira. I’m not sure if I want people to know she’s with me so I’ll look cooler or so they won’t think she’s available. Admittedly, either reason is completely immature. I can’t help it. She makes my inner caveman come out.
And is it my imagination, or did Kira also just step closer to me when one of the Frisbee guys smiles at her? Maybe we’re both being immature. It’s a nice thought, anyway.
We’re so close now that I could reach out and grab her hand if I wanted to. And I do want to. Electric currents are streaming from my fingers to hers, like a magnet pulling me toward her. So close…
But I can’t. Stupid, since I’ve already had my dick inside her. But it just feels too intimate to hold her hand right now, to admit to the both of us that I wanted to take this public.
God, I’m a real chickenshit. And I’ve been so in my head over what this looks like, we’re already halfway to our destination and we still haven’t said a word to each other.
Surely I can manage conversation. I clear my throat. “So tell me something about yourself.”
She glances at me. “Like what?”
“Anything.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “To get to know each other. That’s what people do on dates. ”
Her brows shoot up. “This is a date?”
Oh, shit. Maybe I can’t manage conversation. “Oh—I don’t—I guess it doesn’t have to be.” I can feel my cheeks warming. I had just assumed… This is so embarrassing.
Chase Matthews Puts Foot in Mouth.
Kira breaks into a smile. “Geez, I’m just kidding. Chill out.” She lowers her eyes. “Actually, I didn’t know if it was a date or not.” She peeks up at me from under her fantastically long lashes and all my masculine pride returns.
It’s kind of awesome to realize she’s as tentative about this as I am. That neither of us is on sure footing. “Well, if I say it’s a date, would you still be here?”
“I would.”
Hallelujah! “Then it’s totally a date. No questions asked.”
She laughs. Do girls’ laughs always sound so soft and sweet? Suddenly it feels like I’ve never really listened to one before. Hearing Kira laugh is like hearing laughter for the first time.
My hand brushes hers, and I decide to err on the side of boldness. “Since it’s a date, I can hold your hand, right? People do that on first dates, don’t they?”
“While they get to know each other? Yeah, I think they do.”
“Awesome.” I slip my hand into hers and marvel at how perfectly they seem to fit, as though they had been waiting for each other. Two puzzle pieces. Perhaps it has something to do with how intimate we’ve already been. That has to be it. It has nothing to do with being “made for each other” or “fated.”
That sort of thinking is just ridiculous.
Especially when I have an article to write. I have to keep my eye on the prize. Even if I’m feeling more a
nd more dread at the prospect with every step we take. “So then. Something about yourself.”
“Oh, yes.” She twists her lip while she ponders and damn, I can’t take my eyes off the sexy gesture. “Are we going deep or staying superficial?”
It seems to me we’ve already gone pretty deep.
I bite back saying it out loud just in time. I’m not going to talk to her like she’s one of my roommates.
“Maybe we could start light and then delve…further in.” I cringe even as it’s still coming out of my mouth. I was specifically avoiding the word deep, but that was somehow even weirder-sounding. Luckily, she doesn’t blink. Maybe she didn’t notice.
“Sounds good. Nothing’s ever really superficial anyway. Okay, easy one—I’m a sophomore and I just declared my major.”
“Which is?”
