“Good evening,” Will greeted me at the door of his apartment after three short knocks.
The expediency with which he answered made it seem a little like he’d been waiting just on the other side.
Butterflies took off in my stomach at the thought of him being that anxious to see me.
Of course, he looked as handsome as ever, dressed in black slacks and a pale blue button-down, collared shirt that made his eyes appear even bluer. And Lord almighty, it looked good on him—snug in all the right places with both sleeves rolled up and showcasing his strong forearms.
“Uh…” I paused and glanced down at my slightly casual black summer dress that I’d paired with open-toe wedges. “I think I’m a little underdressed…”
He shook his head, his eyes lighting with a gleam to reinforce his words. “You’re perfect.”
Will leaned in to press a soft kiss to my cheek and then led me through the door and into the loft-style apartment that was starting to feel like a second home.
It really was a spectacular place—floor-to-ceiling windows highlighting the open and airy space, paired with just the right amount of sleek yet comfortable furniture and décor to make it feel cozy.
I loved his apartment, and it definitely fit him like a glove. And if I was being honest, it made me a little jealous on those now rare occasions when I wasn’t at his place that I was still living inside Bill and Janet’s humble abode. With my mother’s meddling and insane work-out routine and my father’s obnoxious music habits, their apartment was starting to feel smaller than a sardine tin—in reality, in New York, it was palatial.
“Let me be the first to welcome you to our first official date,” he said with a gallant sweep of his arm and a smirk once we’d entered the living room.
“This isn’t our first date,” I disagreed with a quirk of my brow. Ever since I’d admitted how jealous I was, Will had become persistent with this whole first official date thing.
Considering we’d been nearly attached at the hip since the night of our real first date, it was a bit insane. I mean, it was an infrequent occurrence when I didn’t stay the night at his place. Hell, I’d even started keeping extra clothes and underwear in his closet.
But he’d been preparing for this night since Wednesday, after Marlene had tried to convince me toast and a pickle was an actual lunch option. And since Will wasn’t on call this weekend, once the work clock struck five p.m., he instructed me to head to my parents’ apartment, get ready, and be at his apartment at seven on the dot.
“Okay… It’s our first official date as a couple.”
I wasn’t sure that was true either. But our real first date had been wildly above the national average, so if he wanted to use that as his basis for all future encounters, I wasn’t going to complain.
“Whatever you say, Doc.” I shrugged, and Will smirked his satisfaction.
I followed his lead into the kitchen and set my purse down on the counter while he busied himself at the stove. “So, what’s on the agenda for tonight?”
Will glanced over his shoulder while he stirred a white cream sauce inside a pot on the burner. “I’m wining and dining my favorite lady.”
I silently hoped said wining and dining included foreplay and Will’s penis.
His eyes searched mine studiously, and when all of my cues finally clicked together into a complete puzzle, a sexy smile eased its way across his full lips. “Oh, don’t worry, there’ll be time for that, too.”
Good lord, he was getting good at reading me.
“Lots and lots of time,” he added, and I felt my cheeks heat up from the intensity of his gaze.
“Stop looking at me like that. You’re making me blush,” I said and put my hands to my face to hide my pink cheeks.
“Eh,” he muttered. “Not likely. I love your blush. It doesn’t happen often anymore, but when it does, it drives me fucking crazy. If just this look does it for you, you can expect me to be giving it to you for the next one hundred years,” he said with a soft smile before turning his focus back toward the stove.
And while he stood there with his back to me, relaxed and calm and finishing up dinner, I froze in my tracks. His words might as well have been jumper cables, sparking a fast and steady pounding inside of my chest. The next one hundred years?
Whoa.
Whoa.
Whoa.
That was the first time Will had ever referred to us in a future tense like that, and I wasn’t sure which was more potent—the way those words made me feel or how badly I wanted them to be true.
Jesus Christ, what was happening to me? We hadn’t even exchanged I love yous, and my heart seemed intent on keeping Will for the long haul. Not just the long haul. You want to keep him forever…
“I hope you’re in the mood for Italian.” The crisp cadence of his voice snapped me out of my shocked trance, and while he moved toward the sink to drain pasta from the big pot in his hands, I ran two, now sweaty, palms down my dress in an attempt to pull my shit together.
I know, I know. Sweaty palms. Supergross, right?
I can’t help it, though. I always get sweaty when I’m stressed or anxious or like right now, internally freaking the fuck out.
Holy mahogany-bound books and cigars, I needed to take a deep breath and try not to ruin the night by acting like a weirdo. I was afraid I’d do something extreme like sprint out of his apartment or get on my knees and propose marriage.
Yeah, don’t do that. Calm down. Act natural. Say something normal. Anything normal…
“Uh… Is that garlic bread I smell?” I asked, and Will winked in my direction as he moved back toward the stove.
“Uh-huh.”
Yeah. That’s good. Talk about the food. You love food.
“And Alfredo sauce and uh…cheese?”
“Yep.”
I moved closer to the stove and peered over his shoulder as he finished up heating the sauce. “Either you’re trying to kill me with carbs or win my heart.”
Too late for that. He’s already won your heart.
Internally, I sighed and wished my brain would just shut up for two fucking minutes.
Will turned around and pulled me into his arms. “It’s the latter,” he said and pressed a smacking kiss to my lips. “Which is why I also picked up a cherry cheesecake from that bakery by the office you love so much.”
“I don’t love it that much…”
I totally did. It was a sweet-treat lover’s heaven, and I’d contemplated putting my application in to work part time just so I could spend a few hours a week smelling and staring at the pastries.
He grinned and lifted me onto the counter near the stove. He fit his large frame between my spread legs before I had a chance to protest. I watched as he slid two long fingers up my thighs and rested his hands at the hem of my dress.
“You’re a little liar,” he whispered into my ear. “I’ve watched you bring in donuts and cookies and cupcakes from that little bakery no less than three times a week.”
“I do that because I’m being nice…for the staff…” I lied and he laughed softly.
“Uh-huh,” he said with his lips pressed against my neck. “I guess that explains why you always take your favorites out before you share with anyone else.”
“Jesus, you’re nosy,” I muttered. “Who are you? The pastry police?”
“I also know that you’ve been sneaking patient numbers into your phone so that you can call them outside of office hours.”
My face fell in panic. How did he know that?
“How…I didn’t…” I stuttered as I tried to figure out what to say.
“Relax,” he soothed, pulling back to look me in the eye, tucking a loose piece of hair behind my ear, and smoothing the deepening wrinkle between my eyes with a gentle swipe of his thumb. “Syreeta Johnson. Bethany Hyland. Rolanda Diaz. I know what you’re doing for all of them,” he whispered. My eyes moistened, and my nose stung as his features softened to near reverent.
“How do you know this?” I whispered back, rolling my lips in on themselves at the end. After Carmen, any time I ran into a new patient in dire need of support, I gave them my cell number—just in case they needed someone. But even that didn’t feel like enough. I’d become so troubled by the numerous women, even under our care, who didn’t have family or anyone to lean on, I’d taken to stealing their numbers out of their charts and calling them occasionally, just to check in. I’d been doing it for weeks now.
But I didn’t think anyone else knew.
When he touched his lips to my cheek, I felt his smile against my skin. “I’m merely an expert in all things Melody Marco.”
My heart pounding so fast I didn’t know what to do, I did my best to calm it down with a little levity.
“If I didn’t like you so much, I’d probably think that line was a little creepy.”
Will chuckled and moved back to the stove, letting the moment pass exactly like I needed him too. It was starting to scare me how well he knew me.
“How much do you like me exactly?” he asked with a waggle of his brow.
More like love…
Ugh. Not that train of thought again…
I wasn’t sure which freaked me out the most: that I was already thinking that four-letter word and the idea of settling down when it came to Will, or how perfect those things really felt.
Will and I hadn’t been dating for that long, and I’d just gotten out of a very long relationship. The mere idea of being in love with Will was a bit too sudden…right?
“The heart wants what the heart wants, Mel.” My mother’s words of advice rang loud and clear in my head. She’d told me those words time and again—when I waffled about moving across the country to follow Eli…when I decided to come back across to get away. And I agreed with her on the basic sentiment. I was just having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that my heart was so damn willing to fall in love again so quickly.
“Are you okay?” Will asked and tilted his head to the side as he scrutinized my facial expression.
I could only assume said facial expression had changed from relaxed and smiling to deer in highlights. Jesus. Get it together, Mel…
“Of course I’m okay.” I schooled my face into a neutral expression and nodded. “Now…if I do recall, you were asking me how far my like for you goes, aka, you’re fishing for compliments…”
Will grinned. “Too scared to answer the question, Mel? I understand. I’d be overwhelmed by me too.”
“No,” I retorted, rolling my eyes. “I think you should answer the question first.”
“How much do I like myself?” he asked and winked in my direction. “Well…I consider myself a nice guy. I’m pretty good at my job. Insanely hilarious and charming. I don’t think I’m too bad to look at. I don’t have a small dick… So, yeah, I’d say I really like myself.”
I giggled. “I don’t have a small dick?” I repeated his words, and he nodded.
“Well, I don’t,” he answered. “I’m about average.”
Average? Pffffffft. It wasn’t average. Honestly, it was above average. Will’s penis was a one of a kind. Smooth, thick, long, and curved in all of the right places. He had a good penis. A great one. The best one. Michelangelo’s David wished he had Will’s penis.
I snorted in laughter. “You’re so full of it.”
“What did I say that was so wrong?”
“Your penis isn’t average. It’s more than average, Will.”
“Uh…yeah, it is,” he retorted. “It’s a nice, average penis. I think it gets the job done.”
“It definitely more than gets the job done,” I agreed with a waggle of my brows. “But it’s not just average. How many inches, William?”
“How the fuck would I know?”
“Haven’t you measured it before?”
“Um…no. I don’t spend my free time sitting in my living room holding a measuring tape up to my cock.”
“The average penis size is like five to six inches,” I stated and glanced down at the crotch of his pants. “You’re way bigger than five to six.”
He shrugged. “Okay…I’m slightly above average.”
I hopped off the counter and started rummaging through his drawers.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for a ruler.”
I only managed to get through one of his junk drawers before Will wrapped his arms around me tightly and pulled me away from the counter. “You’re not measuring my cock, Mel.”
“Yes. I. Am.”
“No, baby,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re not.”
“Aren’t you a little curious?” I asked and turned into his arms. “Like, just a little bit curious? Seven or eight inches of curious?” I pushed.
He shook his head and kissed the tip of my nose. “I give zero fucks.”
“Ugh.”
Will just laughed and pinched my ass. “Guess what?”
“You’re going to let me measure your penis?” I asked hopefully.
He shook his head. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Ugh.”
He pressed his lips to my ear. “Maybe…just maybe…after dinner…I’ll let your tight little cunt measure my dick.”
“Ugh…Fine,” I said on a sigh, but on the inside, I shivered. Man, he gives good dirty talk. He chuckled.
“Now that’s the spirit!” A sharp spank to my ass punctuated his excitement.
I probably would’ve forced the issue more had it not been for the garlic bread…and the fettuccini alfredo…and the cheesecake…and the sex…
A girl could only hold out for so long when carbs and sugar and hot sex were involved.
And her heart can’t hold out at all when Will Cummings is involved.