Grant was already in a good mood, but his heart started racing as he headed for his car. He’d ditch it back at his house, freshen up, pick up some condoms, and taxi over to meet Viviana. He revved the engine and peeled out, more excited about seeing her again than he would have admitted to anyone.
A short time later he was on his way to her. He took advantage of the time in the cab to search for the perfect place to spend the night with her. He couldn’t take her back to his penthouse or he’d have some explaining to do. She had a roommate, and he didn’t want to be rushed or quiet. Something simple. Not the five-star hotel or private home rental he would normally have chosen.
He searched the Internet for cheap, clean hotels and found a new one in the Boston area. Hours and Yours was a pop-up hotel the travel sites said was big with millennials. The rooms were small, modern, and could be rented by the hour or by the night. Check-in and checkout was managed by mobile device, and the door opened with a code that was sent via text. He scanned photos of the room and became aroused when he saw the one with bunk beds and a metal ladder. The kind of sex he wanted to have with her could benefit from such props.
Would she let him tie her to those rails? The ladder lent endless possibilities for intriguing positions. How could a man not smile with a night like that looming? The taxi driver gave him an odd look when they arrived at Faneuil Hall, and he threw money at him and jumped out like a teenager meeting his first date.
I’m here, he texted.
Me, too, she answered. In front of the street performer. He’s not bad.
Grant scanned the crowd until he located her then closed the distance with long strides. She didn’t move from her spot, but her eyes widened. “Hi,” she said softly.
He couldn’t help himself. He cupped her head and pulled her in for a deep kiss. He didn’t care who was around or what they thought. One taste. One touch and he was on fire. When he finally raised his head they were both breathing raggedly. “Hi yourself.”
She smiled shyly, and he wanted to kiss her again so badly he could hardly think. “Hungry?” she asked.
Her gaze slid from his mouth to skim his chest and lower. That was all it took for his cock to vote they skip dinner and find that hotel . . . any secluded area would do. He didn’t care. Grant had the strength, however, to stick to his original plan. “I am, but we have all night.”
She bit her bottom lip and flushed. “I need you to know I’ve never done what we did. Never.”
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Good, I hope you say that again after tonight.”
Her mouth formed a surprised circle. “I—I—”
He kissed her neck, loving how she arched it for him, then kissed his way up her jaw to near her ear again. “Trust me.”
Her hands gripped his shoulders and she shook with desire as he kissed his way back down her neck. “How can I when I don’t know you?”
He raised his head. “You will.” He knew in that instant one more night with her would not be enough. He didn’t know where they were headed, but since he was sure mauling her in public wasn’t the best way to gain her trust, he straightened and took her hand in his. “Let’s go have our first date.”
Viviana struggled to gain control of her traitorous libido while being led through the large indoor market. Can you have a first date with someone you’ve already had sex with?
His hold on her hand was confident and strong. For a man who might not have a job, he carried himself like someone who owned the building they were walking into. He wasn’t cocky, but he definitely had a presence that made people instinctively step out of his way—even the young and normally irreverent. Boston was known as a college city. Saturdays brought out the students as well as families.
As far as first dates went, Quincy Market wasn’t a bad choice. The main part of the building was wall-to-wall food vendors selling some of the best food in the city. The outer glass areas housed individually run “wagons” where one could buy crafts, jewelry, or touristy items.
Viviana expected Grant to rush her through the merchandise area, but he did the opposite. He stood beside her, asking her about the items she showed interest in. At one point she was convinced he was about to offer to buy her the cheap costume jewelry set she’d playfully tried on, but he hadn’t. He’d instead asked her if diamonds were her favorite gem.
She’d wrinkled her nose. “I’m not really the diamond type.”
“There’s a type?”
She’d replaced the jewelry in its box and said, “They’re for women with closets full of dresses who care about the name brand of their shoes.” She’d waved her tennis shoe clad foot at him. “I’m more comfortable in jeans and these.”
He’d looked her over slowly, appreciatively, then said, “You’d be beautiful in anything, but if you don’t like dresses, you’ve never owned the right one.”
“I guess.” He had a way of phrasing things that sent her thoughts instantly to the gutter. The way he said owned filled her mind with memories of how good it had felt to be taken by him. There was something primal about their connection. She’d never wanted to be owned by anyone, but if she did, it’d be by someone who made her feel the way he did. “Maybe I’ll find that dress one day.”
He’d smiled then. She indulged in a brief fantasy of him saying he’d buy her that dress. She’d refuse of course. I wouldn’t accept a gift like that.
But it’s nice to dream of being offered.
“For now, how about getting a quick bite?” he asked.
Now that’s more my style. “Seafood?” she asked.
“Love it.”
“Lobster roll?”
“My favorite.”
She smiled. “Me, too.”
He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “Mayo?”
She shuddered. “Butter.”
“Yes. I like to taste the lobster and not someone’s secret sauce.”
“I said that just the other day.”
His smile widened. “I didn’t expect to have so much in common with you.”
She looked down at their linked hands then back at his face, mulling his admission as she did. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”
He gave her a lingering kiss that erased any doubts his words had birthed. “It’s merely the truth. Speaking of the truth, were you trying to meet me when you dropped your phone on the path?”
Viviana’s cheeks warmed. “A lady doesn’t plot and tell.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Of course not, how uncouth of me. Well, whatever brought us together, I’m glad it did.”
“Me, too,” she said softly. She hadn’t told Audrey where she was going because she wasn’t ready to answer any questions about it.
Earlier that day Audrey had asked her if she’d gone home with Grant, and Viviana had answered honestly, “No.” She hadn’t. She didn’t tell her friend about the closet because, although she wasn’t ashamed of what she’d done, she wasn’t proud of it.
If this date with Grant led to another she’d tell Audrey the whole story. If not, then it was probably for the best. Some memories, even ones as hot as those she hoped to have by morning, were better when they didn’t include an attempt to justify them.
What she was doing with Grant wasn’t
wrong.
It wasn’t right, either.
But she’d waited her whole life to feel the kind of passion and pleasure she’d experienced with him. Who could walk away without one more taste?
With a condom this time. She’d stuffed several in her purse before she’d left her apartment.
Once they had their rolls and drinks, they sat at one of the tables in the middle of the building. And they talked. For hours.
He described his siblings although only in the most general of ways. She described what it was like to be raised by a burly father and two meathead brothers. Normally when she met a new man she toned down that part of her life. It didn’t put Grant off. He seemed genuinely interested.
Maybe because she was determined to keep her expectations low when it came to where this relationship was headed, she wasn’t afraid to be herself with him. Could hearing that she liked to fish lower his opinion of her? She was pretty sure he didn’t give a shit about that side of her. And it was freeing.
The third glass of cheap wine they were sharing helped, too.
“I woke up one day and realized I didn’t want to be the person I had become.” She shook her head. “I came to Boston hoping to find another side of myself. I’m still working on it.”
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Twenty-seven.”
He nodded. “You have time to figure it out.”
She swirled her wine around the bottom of a clear plastic tumbler. “It’s hard to find yourself when you’re with people who see you only one way. My claim to fame in high school was that I had arm wrestled and beaten most of the boys in my class,” she said.
He laughed, leaned forward, and placed his arm on the table between them. “Show me how.”
She loved that he didn’t doubt her. Nor did he mock her. She stood and took her power stance. “First put your right foot forward and under the table.”
Grant stood and did just that.
“I wouldn’t tell my opponent the next part, but if I put my thumb under my fingers when I clasp your hand it’ll give me an advantage later.”
