The rest of his life with. Is he talking about me?

My heart is pounding in my chest.

That’s awfully fast. It’s only been a week since we met. We’ve spent three nights together. We haven’t even had sex yet.

Maybe he’s just thinking ahead, in case this works out and things get serious. Right now, they’re as far from serious as they could be. We’re having fun, hanging out and getting to know each other.

I wouldn’t even call him my boyfriend yet. Would I? What does he call me when he tells people about me? Does he tell people about me?

I’m overthinking it. Again.

“Hey, guys!” Emerson exclaims as she slides into the booth across from us, followed closely by Ryder.

“How was your morning?” I ask.

“Good. Ryder was able to get in one last game of golf before they close the course for the season and I got to drive the golf cart.”

Laughing at her enthusiasm, Emerson continues to tell me about their outing this morning, including every shot Ryder missed. He’s engrossed in conversation with Devon, but I see him roll his eyes every time she explains what he did wrong.

“Do you play?” she asks me.

“Golf? No. I tried once. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Me either,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders.

“How do you know so much about what went wrong today, then?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

“Because I explained it all to her not realizing she would use it against me later on,” Ryder chimes in. Emerson elbows him in the ribs but never stops smiling at him.

After hours of great food and laughter, Devon checks his watch and announces it’s time to head out. He ignores my pout as he helps me into my coat.

I’ve been trying to get him to tell me where we’re headed next since we sat down. Emerson and Ryder were of no help, their loyalty to Devon holding strong. I even attempted to pull Emerson into the bathroom to try and get the secret out of her to no avail. She did promise that I would like it, however.

“What’s with all the mystery?” I ask Devon as we walk back to his car.

“Don’t you like surprises?” he counters.

“Depends.”

“Trust me,” he says, opening my door for me so I can get in the car and out of the chilly air. “You’re going to like this. I promise. Plus, I thought it would be perfect for our first real date, even if we have company along.”

Waiting until Ryder and Emerson drive past, he falls in behind them and follows them through downtown and out of the city. We’re about twenty minutes outside the suburbs when he turns down a country road, the kind that are identified by numbers and nothing more.

“You know, this reminds me of a made-for-TV movie. Guy takes girl on a date in the country and girl winds up dead in a cornfield,” I tease when he suddenly comes to a stop, a line of cars in front of us appearing out of nowhere.

“Sorry to disappoint, but there would be too many witnesses,” he replies as the car creeps forward a little.

Ten minutes later, we’re parked in the middle of a vacant field, walking hand in hand toward a giant screen. Devon’s carrying the picnic basket he had hidden in his trunk and I have a blanket for us to sit on. Emerson and Ryder are a few paces ahead of us, a blanket of their own tossed over Ryder’s shoulder.

“So, what movie are they playing tonight?” I ask as he helps me spread the blanket on the ground.

“Ask Emerson. All I know is it’s some chick flick. She’s the one that found this place for me.”

“I had no idea it was even here, and I’ve lived here for years,” I comment.

“Us locals like to keep it on the down-low,” Emerson quips from behind me. “And it’s not a chick flick. It’s a romantic comedy.”

“Same thing,” Ryder mutters.

As we all settle in, Devon produces a bottle of wine and four glasses from the picnic basket. Pouring each of us a glass as the movie flickers to life, I curl into his body and take a sip. As far as ‘first’ dates go, this is pretty amazing.

Sound asleep, dead to the world. How embarrassing.

I remember the start of the movie and finishing my first glass of wine. My body was exhausted, and Devon’s chest was incredibly comfortable as we cuddled on the blanket. The last thing I remember was him offering me a second glass and declining, thinking one more glass would put me to sleep.

It’s morning now, and the sun is barely above the horizon. As I stare out the window, watching it slowly rise, I think about the last few days I’ve spent with Devon. They’ve been fun, and he’s been amazing. Kind, generous, patient.

Last night he must have carried me to the car and then up the stairs to bed. I was tucked into his body when I woke up, wearing only a t-shirt and underwear. The restraint that man must have is profound. He not only undressed me but redressed me in his shirt. He didn’t attempt to wake me, at least not that I know of.

Looking over my shoulder, I wonder what it would be like for us if this wasn’t a weekend thing. What if we lived in the same city? What if we saw each other more than a few hours a week? Could it be as amazing? Or would things fall flat?

Every relationship is great in the beginning. People tend to be more caring toward the other person. They act appropriately, make time for one another. There’s a fog that surrounds people as they get to know each other. It’s easy to see the good through the fog and ignore the bad.

Devon’s not perfect. Far from it, I’m sure. I have yet to witness this imperfection, but I’ll patiently wait for it to show itself. Until then, I plan to ride the high I’m on. It’s an amazing feeling, and I enjoy it more than I should.

Devon begins to stir, rolling toward my side of the bed. His arm stretches out, his hand feeling around the sheets, more than likely searching for me. Moments later his eyes pop open and when they meet mine, I can see the panic.

“Hey,” I say, moving to the bed and taking a seat on the edge.

“What are you doing up this early?” he asks, tugging on my arm until I’m back in my spot, wrapped in his arms.

“Well, apparently I fell asleep on you last night.”

“Yes, yes, you did,” he confirms, kissing my neck and squeezing me tight.

“I’m sorry, but I’m impressed,” I state, rolling over to face him.

“Impressed?” he asks, clearly confused, lifting his brow for emphasis.

“Yeah. Not only did you carry me up here but you changed my clothes, and I didn’t wake up.” Laughing, Devon’s head rolls back, and I push against his chest. “What’s so funny?”

“I tried to wake you up when the movie was over, but you started swinging at me. Then, when we got back here, I tried again, and you still weren’t having it. You’re feisty when you’re tired.”

“I don’t even remember any of that,” I reply, defending my actions.

“Well, did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Oh, shit! I did know that. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared a bed with anyone and even longer since I’ve had a conversation with someone while I was asleep. The last time wasn’t pretty.

“Um, whatever I said was a lie. I claim no responsibility. I wasn’t coherent, and I was drinking.”

“One glass of wine hardly counts as drinking.”

“Still, alcohol was involved.”

“Fine, if that’s your story,” he says, pushing the covers away and sliding out of bed. “But I thought you might want to know what you said.”

“So tell me. It can’t be that bad.”

Or it can and I’m going to regret asking.

In one swift motion, I’m on my back and Devon is straddling me. I inhale sharply, unprepared for his attack, and hold it when I notice the look on his face.

“You were begging me.”

“For?” I squeak out.

“To take you.”

“I was not!” I scream, pushing against his chest as he bends toward me, his face only a few inches from mine.

“Oh, yes, you were. Ask Emerson and Ryder. They’re my witnesses. Of course, I’m a gentleman, so I denied you. Over and over and over again. I felt bad about it at first, but you refused to wake up, even when I was undressing you. I ran my hand up your side like this,” he says, placing his hand on my hip. Slowly, barely touching my skin, he moves his hand higher and higher until he reaches the underside of my breast. Careful not to touch it, his hand begins its descent back toward my hip. “You were shivering, just like right now, and begging me. I had to take a cold shower after I tucked you in.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, looking over his shoulder to avoid eye contact.

“Don’t be sorry, Justine. I want you just as much as you want me, but I wasn’t about to have my way with you when I knew you weren’t conscious. And now I have to jump back in a cold shower and drive three hours with nothing but the image of your naked body on my mind.”

My eyes find his and I contemplate my options. I knew he had to leave early this morning. He has a work function tonight he can’t skip. So, do I make his fantasies a reality before he leaves or allow the sexual tension between us to keep building until the next time we see each other. Whenever that may be.

“How long before you have to leave?” I ask, placing my hands on his biceps.

“As soon as possible. I know what you’re thinking, and there’s not enough time. When we do this, we’re going to do it right. I’ll need hours, maybe even days, alone with you. There will be no rushing, no time frame. I want to explore every inch of your body and memorize it over and over again.”

So a quickie is out.

“And when will we have time to do that?” I ask, shifting under him, which elicits a moan. Not my intention. I don’t want to tease him.

“Next weekend. I’ll find a way to be here. Don’t make any plans.”

Smiling, Devon bends down and kisses me deeply. Ten minutes later, he’s forcing himself to get in the shower, his excitement evident as he walks away, leaving me breathless, twisted up in the sheets.

An entire weekend. Just the two of us.

This week is going to take forever to pass. Tyler and Hunter leave tomorrow morning for their conference. There will be less work to keep my mind occupied. The places it’ll travel will only make time move slower. An hour will feel like six. One day will feel like two.

While Devon showers, I pack my things and change into clean clothes. Grabbing my toothbrush, I knock on the bathroom door and open it a crack when I hear him call my name.

There’s a distinct lack of steam in the bathroom. Devon is stepping out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. He’s grinning at me in the mirror as I put toothpaste on my brush. Turning to face him, I lean back against the counter and wait for him to approach.

“What’s the smirk for?” I ask.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how much I love minty toothpaste.”

“Really?” I reply, my voice laced with doubt.

“No,” he laughs, smacking me on the butt as he leaves me to brush my teeth.

After loading my bag in my car for me, Devon pulls me into his arms and holds on tight. I attempted to convince him to stay for breakfast and failed. He tried to convince me to go back to Chicago with him, using Tyler’s absence as a plausible reason to take a vacation. I considered the idea for a few minutes before shaking my head.

“Next weekend, then?” he asks, refusing to let me go.

“Yes. Next weekend I’m all yours,” I state firmly.

“Careful what you wish for,” he jokes, the rumble in his chest causing my breasts to bounce up and down slightly. “Damn it, woman. You make it so hard to leave.”

“Not on purpose,” I defend.

Tilting my chin up, Devon kisses me gently before helping me in my car. Backing out of the driveway, I keep my smile firmly in place until I’m out of sight and I allow the sadness to wash over me.

This man has turned my life upside down. He makes me want to act irresponsibly, skip work, and drive to Chicago. That scares me. The last time I fell this hard for someone, I ended up getting hurt. I’m not ready for that. I’m not emotionally prepared for that.

Unfortunately, I need to be. Not only in case Devon breaks my heart but for the next few weeks. With JP back in the picture, having to work with him at some point, I need to guard myself.