Chapter Eleven

AJ

When he pulls the blanket from the bag, the first thing I notice is the smell.

It smells just like Sawyer.

I wrap it around my shoulders and instantly feel the warmth. And the crazy part is, I’m not one hundred percent sure it’s from the actual blanket itself. It’s almost like it’s him who’s wrapped around my shoulders, holding me close and keeping me warm. How crazy is that?

“Better?” he asks.

No, not really. I have this ache between my legs that always seems to creep up whenever I’m around him. Of course, that’s not what he means, and there’s no way I’d actually say that aloud. Well, not unless I was asking for the man to get into my pants. Not that I’m not asking, it’s just that he’s not exactly offering. At least not on our first date. So instead of focusing on the fact that I’m suddenly wet, slightly horny, and ready to jump his bones right here on the beach, I decide to answer his question referring to the blanket.

“Much.”

“You’re blushing,” he adds with a sly grin.

“Am not. I don’t blush,” I retort, blushing further.

“I bet you do when it counts,” he replies, that grin turning wolfish. Something tells me he wasn’t referring to a blush of embarrassment, but one that is reserved for the bedroom. Naked. Panting.

And now I might be panting.

“I can’t wait to make you blush,” he whispers, moments before his hand slides up my jaw and slips into my hair. He’s playing with the curls, wrapping them around his fingers, and gently tugging them. It doesn’t hurt, but still sends fire rushing through my veins.

“I really want to kiss you.” His words are breathy and heady.

“I’d be okay with that.”

His hands slip farther into my hair until he’s cradling my scalp with his big hand. “It’s not exactly first date appropriate.”

“We almost slept together before we knew each other.”

His smile starts slow and gently takes his gorgeous face from handsome to stunning. Breathtaking. “I almost threw up on you,” I remind.

“You did throw up on me. My shoes, actually,” he adds, his bubble of laughter mixing with my groan of embarrassment.

“Holy shitballs, are you serious?” Cue utter humiliation. If a tsunami could sweep in now and carry me out to sea, that’d be great. My head drops to my hands praying he suddenly gets a strong bout of amnesia and forgets all about me and my horrible gut-purging attempt at seduction.

Sawyer moves closer, placing both hands on my head and raising my chin. His eyes hold a sparkle of humor, but also something else. Something deeper that steals my breath. The man just confessed that I threw up on him and he…wants me?

“Actually, the vomit didn’t bother me in the least. I’ve seen worse in the locker room following a doubleheader. It was after the puking that sent me into a tizzy. It was the fact that I had a beautiful woman in my bed for the first time in months and I didn’t want to let her go. And when I came back to my hotel room later, after my job interview, and found her gone, it bothered me more than I should probably admit. Because spending just that brief time with you brought me to life for the first time in so fucking long.”

I let his powerful words soak in, absorbing and relishing them. The fact that it’s the first time someone spoke so candidly about his feelings for me–even if they are sparked by the sexual chemistry neither of us seems to deny–doesn’t go unnoticed.

Instead of speaking, I lean forward and press my lips to his. They’re warm as they instantly move against mine. I may have initiated the kiss, but Sawyer quickly takes control. His lips part mine just enough for his tongue to slide inside for a taste. His hands hold me firmly, at just the right angle for him to take what he wants. And holy hell, do I want him to take. More kisses and whatever else comes next.

Instead of moving into that category, however, Sawyer pulls back. “That’s against the rules,” he groans, releasing his hold on me. The fact that he adjusts his pants, which suddenly seem a bit tight in the crotch area, doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m not a fan of the rules,” I tell him honestly. I wait for him to call me out on the fact that I’m a teacher, and rules are a part of my daily routine, but he doesn’t. I think he knows that I wasn’t referring to my day job as much as I was meaning with him.

“I like a rebel,” he says, offering me a warm smile.

“It’s dark.” I realize that night has fallen around us, reinforcing the fact that time just seems to fly when I’m with him.

He seems to take notice too, and quickly puts a bag on his lap. Sawyer pulls a long, narrow box from his bag of goodies as well as a lighter. I giggle when I realize what he has. Pulling out one stick, he hands it to me and grabs the lighter. Sparks fly as the sparkler flames to life, bright against the darkened sky.

“I haven’t done this in years,” I confess, smiling, as my hand moves.

“Me either,” he admits as his own sparkler blazes to life.

“Our family used to do this every Fourth of July. I used to love to write my name when I was little,” I tell him, moving my hand and spelling AJ.

“That’s not fair. Your name is shorter than mine.”

“I used to spell my full name,” I whisper.

“What’s your full name?” His voice dips low to mirror my own.

“Alison. Alison Jane. I stopped going by it when my mom died.” I didn’t mean to say the words; they just tumbled out before I could stop them. But now that I’ve admitted it, I somehow feel lighter. It’s as if confessing that secret to Sawyer has lifted a weight off my chest.

“I’m sorry you lost your mom,” he says as my sparkler dies.

I shrug my shoulders, even though I’m sure he can’t see me. “It was a long time ago.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean the loss hurts any less.”

“True.” I take a deep breath and keep going. “She used to call me Alison Jane, and somehow, when she died, I just hated the sound of it. My grandparents will still call me by my full name at times, but for the most part, everyone calls me AJ. It’s how I prefer it. Even my dad started calling me AJ when I requested it.” Again, I shrug my shoulders.

“AJ suits you,” he says, as he links his fingers with mine, the wires of our sparklers forgotten in the sand. “But Alison is a beautiful name.”

Glancing his way, the moon reflects brightly off his blue eyes turning them into dark sapphires. “I like it when you say my name.” I’m already leaning his way and resting my head on his shoulder.

“I’d happily say it again.” His words shake me to my very core almost as much as my reply.

“You could call me Alison. If you want.”

We sit together, watching the waves crash against the shore, snuggled under a blanket that smells like him. It’s funny how content I feel. After years of kissing frogs and dating toads, it’s hard to believe that I might have actually found one of the good ones. I was starting to think they were already snatched up. Lord knows my sisters had each found a diamond amongst the pile of turds.

After another twenty minutes, Sawyer starts to gather our things. I grab my shoes and the blankets while he carries the cooler, bag, and picnic basket. The sand feels cool between my toes, which may actually be one of the best feelings in the world.

“So that’s your house?” I ask, gazing up at the very large house with massive windows facing the Bay.

“That’s it. I’d give you a tour, but I’m not sure I’d let you leave once I got you inside,” he says bluntly. “Besides, I think home tours are reserved for the second date.”

When we reach his car, he sets all of the items he’s carrying down beside the garage door and takes the blankets from my arms. “So, you’re saying there’s going to be a second date?” I ask.

Sawyer stops in front of me. He’s so much taller and broader than my smaller five-foot, seven-inch body. “Well, I’m hoping,” he answers, leading me to the passenger side of his car. “And it’s not just a second date I’m hoping for, Alison, but a third and fourth and fifth, too. In fact, I plan to have all of your dates booked up until you get tired of me.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible. I’m positive this comes as no surprise to you, Mr. Randall, but you’re pretty charming and irresistible.”

“I am?” he asks, his white teeth shining brightly in the night.

“You know you are. Women swallow their tongues when you walk by. I’ve witnessed no less than three married teachers, as well as every single hormonal teenaged female student in the school practically lose their minds when you enter the room. I should be embarrassed for the state of the female population.”

“Well, not that all of that doesn’t sound fascinating, I’m actually only interested in the reaction of one particular woman.”

“That’s easy. She turns into a teenage girl when you’re near too.”

That makes him laugh. “I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be a compliment or not, but I prefer women over teenage girls. In fact, I have a type,” he tells me as he holds open the door and I slide in.

When he slips into the driver’s seat, I ask, “And this type. Do I want to know? Wait. Let me guess. Blonde, blue eyes, double Ds and an IQ two points higher than her bust size?”

“Wow, you just described my ex-wife,” he grumbles, starting the car and backing down the lane. “Though, I wouldn’t exactly say that’s my type. Before I entered The Big Show, I dated a woman in college who was going to school to be an archeologist. She had the big glasses and everything.”

“Well, if perky double Ds and bleach-bottle blonde hair isn’t your type, what is?” I ask as we pull out onto the road.

“Funny you should ask,” he says, reaching over and taking my hand with his. “I prefer brunette, over blonde. Green eyes, sassy tongue, about yay-high,” he says, indicating with his hand where my head hits on his chest when we stand. “Oh, and someone who vomits on my shoes. I really dig that,” he sasses and squeezes my hand.

Groaning, I reply, “You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Of course, I am. Just not tonight,” he quips with a grin.

“That’s horrible first date etiquette,” I remind him as he pulls into town and heads toward my place.

“You may be right, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

“I would. Maybe less alcohol and less vomiting. The end result would have been a lot more…pleasurable.”

I can practically hear him swallow as he pulls into my driveway. “I’m sure it would have been. But this isn’t so bad either,” he adds, putting his car in park. “This way, you get a proper date.”

“But less sex,” I retort.

“For now,” he says, getting out of the car and coming around to my side. Sawyer helps me from the car and immediately sweeps me into his arms.

“Thank you for tonight,” I tell him, my voice all low and breathy.

He stares down at me, his eyes intense and almost unreadable. It reminds me of the look on his face in those YouTube videos of his games. Focused. Penetrating. Passionate. And all of that is concentrated directly at me.

Sawyer doesn’t reply. Instead, he guides his hands up my jaw and tangles his fingers in my hair, just like he did earlier in the evening when we kissed on the beach. His lips are gentle as they graze against mine in a featherlight kiss. It’s like he’s testing the waters, dipping his toes in to gauge the temperature. Only I’m the water and the longer he touches me, the higher my temperature keeps climbing.

He coaxes my mouth open with his tongue. Sawyer proves to be an expert kisser as he slowly slides along my tongue with his own. Shivers sweep across my skin as I grip the back of his shirt, holding on for what is proving to be the best kiss of my life. It’s slow, tantalizing, and erotic, and honestly, I never knew a kiss could be like this.

“Best first date ever,” he whispers as he places open-mouthed kisses on the corners of my lips.

I try to answer, but I’m pretty sure my reply comes out a lusty squeak.

Before I can beg for more kisses, he slowly pulls back. His eyes burn fire into me as my half-lidded gaze locks on his. He’s so freaking intense, and I can’t believe how much it turns me on.

“It was,” I agree, still gripping the back of his shirt.

“Can I call you?”

“I’d like that,” I answer, hoping it’s not just a line and he really does pick up the phone.

“Thank you for saying yes, Alison.” He slowly slips his hands from my hair. I feel the loss instantly.

“Thank you for asking me, Sawyer.”

“Just make sure you say yes when I ask again,” he says, the corner of his mouth turning upward.

“I don’t want to predict the future, but I feel a very strong indication that the answer would be yes again.”

He offers me a smile before taking a step back. “Good.”

Turning and unlocking my door, I let myself into my house. Before I shut the door behind me, he asks, “Alison?” I stand at the threshold and face him. “Is there any breakfast food you don’t like?”

“Bran or poppy seed muffins.”

That sexy little smile plays on his lips once more. “Good to know. ‘Night.” He offers a wave before taking a step backward, but he doesn’t turn and walk down the steps.

“Good night,” I tell him, lifting my hand to wave.

Part of me wants to throw open the door and invite him inside, but the other part, the part that’s winning out right now, wants to take this slow and see where it goes. For once, I’m not just jumping into someone’s bed or being the only one ready to take the next step. I believe Sawyer is right there with me, eager to see where this budding thing between us goes.

It’s exciting.

And terrifying all at the same time.

But any relationship worth having is worth a little fear.

Without inviting him in, I close the door, securing the lock behind me. My house is quiet, which makes it easy to hear him retreat down the stairs, get into his car, and pull from my driveway. Once he’s gone, I make my way to my bedroom to get ready for bed.

Lying in the still of the night, the glow of the moon leaking through my bedroom window, I allow myself to replay every moment of the evening. From the picnic with his favorite foods, to the nighttime sparklers, and the delicious kisses that left me wet and needy, the entire date was better than I could have possibly imagined.

“Best first date ever.”