Keir

The first restaurant looks nice enough from the outside. It’s somewhat plain, but that can easily be fixed. At least the cacti and plants are well maintained.

“Boring,” Grace whispers in my ear, and I smile, because we’re on the same page.

“Fixable.”

“Yes.”

Upon entering, it takes almost five minutes before someone greets us at the hostess stand, and if this really were a first date, I’d have walked us out already. As it is, I’m regretting suggesting this as our first date.

“Even if it doesn’t get better, we’re here together,” Grace reminds me with a smile.

“Mindreading now?”

“You look upset.”

“I wanted this to be a good date.”

“It will be.”

“Since when are you the optimistic one?”

“If I didn’t look for the good in some situations, I wouldn’t have come as far as I have.”

I think about that for a moment; think about being a woman in the business world. Miles, and his brother Matt, don’t see gender when hiring and promoting their staff, but others don’t work that way. I can’t imagine what Grace has gone through.

“I’m glad you’re at C&C now.”

“Me too.”

“I hate to throw my pessimism out there, but shouldn’t we have been asked for our drink order by now?”

“We passed pessimism a few minutes ago.”

“Thank God for great company in this situation.”

“Yes.”

A server finally approaches, dropping some chips and salsa on the table. The guy seems annoyed that he has to wait on us, despite the restaurant being half-empty at the moment. We order two different kinds of margaritas, and he disappears again. By the time he’s back, we have our order ready, because there’s no way we’re waiting for him to circle back again.

“Yum,” Grace says, taking a sip of her prickly pear margarita.

My standard one tastes great as well. “Delicious.”

“They’re doing something right.”

“Service can be fixed,” I agree.

Our food arrives, and smells delicious. I got a chicken chimichanga with sour cream sauce and cheese, and a side of rice. Grace got a combo plate of tacos, and enchiladas with rice and beans. The server sets out two kinds of salsa, and extra napkins before leaving again.

We’re quiet as we dig into everything, savoring every bite. I’m thinking there’s nothing for the kitchen to work on, until I put the green salsa on some of my chimi, and take a bite. I think I must be wrong, so I take one more bite dripping with salsa.

“This salsa is store bought.”

“What?” Grace asks, her eyes going wide.

“It’s one of the ones I tasted.”

“Are you sure?”

I’m not upset about her second-guessing me, because I don’t want to be right, either. “Yeah.”

“Damn. I was really enjoying this food, and the margarita.”

“Me too.”

“How is everything?” a woman we haven’t seen yet asks, stepping up to the table.

“Good,” Grace tells her with a smile.

We’re here to check things out, and not to tell them how we really feel. If this was just a date, I might even ask about the salsa, but as it’s not, I just nod and smile. The woman walks away, and I sigh.

“I was hoping for a better first date.”

“There’s been nothing wrong with this date.”

“Bad service, store bought salsa…”

“Amazing margaritas, and the best company.”

“Does that mean I might get a kiss later?”

“I’d prefer one now, but if you want to wait, we can.”

She looks taken aback for a moment, like she can’t believe she just said that. I almost can’t believe it myself, but I’m happy to oblige. I stand, and move to the other side of the table, taking the empty seat next to Grace.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

We both lean in, and I swear when our lips touch, it just feels right. Like our lips are meant to be friends. Hers are soft and plump, and I can’t resist licking the bottom one, and pulling it between my teeth. My hands seem to move on their own, cupping her face as hers slide into my hair.

Tongues have just come into play when we’re jarred apart by the voice of our waiter. “Do you need anything else?”

Looking up at him, with eyes I know are glazed over with lust, I long to punch the smirk from his face. “Dessert menu, please.”

He looks taken aback, and I’m sure he thought his work with us was done for the night. I won’t deny I want to get Grace back to the C&C apartment we’re using, but we have a job to do.

“Oh, sure,” he says, walking away.

“After dessert, I want your mouth back,” she tells me.

“It’s all yours.”

Grace

The dessert empanadas I had were good, but not as good as the taste of Keir. I’m so cautious with most men, yet I asked him to kiss me. He tasted like tequila, and salsa, and him.

We behaved through dessert, and the short drive back here, but once we’re in the door of the apartment, it’s back on. Keir lifts me off my feet as our mouths collide, and then we’re on the couch. The stretchy, black dress I chose for dinner rides up my thighs as I straddle him.

I’ve never believed kisses could be life-altering, or produce fireworks, but Keir’s kisses are doing just that to me. I love his mouth, his tongue, and oh God, his teeth. He’s everywhere in my mouth, demanding more from me. And then, he’s just on my lips, being sweet.

I need more. “Help me take your shirt off,” I demand, our lips barely touching as I speak.

I undo a few buttons, and he pulls it over his head, in the way guys do. I sit back for a moment, and take him in. His strong arms, sexy pecs, and those abs I got a glimpse of. I don’t know where to start first, but he doesn’t give me a chance to decide. Keir pulls me back to his mouth, and I don’t complain.

I run my hands over the ridges of all those muscles, scratching my nails over his pecs, and rubbing his abs like my life depends on it—and it just might. He growls into my mouth, making me a little crazier. After a few more minutes, he tugs at the top of my dress, and I help him pull it down.

Now, he’s the one pulling back to look. My bra is plain black, because lace would’ve shown through my dress. It’s not sexy, but he seems to like it, and I’m not ashamed about wearing something functional.

“I’ve been dreaming of your curves.”

“Does the reality live up to the fantasy?”

“The reality blows the fantasy out of the fucking water.”

To prove it, he leans down, and kisses the swells of flesh above my bra. He really knows how to use that mouth of his, and even without any nipple play, I’m arching into him. He teases me for a few more minutes, but I've had enough, and reach for his belt.

His hands grab my wrists to stop me. "Not tonight, Grace. It's been a long time for me, and I want to take this slow. Okay?"

Wow. "Okay. Um, how long exactly?"

"No one since my ex-wife. Is that a problem?"

"No. It's pressure, but not a problem."

"The pressure's on me, because I'm the one who's probably going to blow in less than a minute. I'm close right now, in fact, and most of our clothes are still on."

"I don't mind helping you along." I really, really don't mind.

"While I appreciate the offer, and know I'm being stupid for declining, I have to. I want more than sex, and I also have more than just myself to think about."

He says all these words, but he's still kissing my lips, my cheeks, my neck, and the tops of my breasts as he says them. He can't stop touching his lips to various parts of my body, and truthfully, I don't want him to. I need some answers, though.

"On the plane, you said you didn't know where you want this to go. I'm okay with no titles, or definitions of what we're doing, but are we going to be exclusive?"

"Hell, yeah. I don't want anyone else, and to be honest, the thought of someone else kissing or touching you is making me feel a little ragey right now."

"I feel the same way."

"So, second date for breakfast?"

"Yes."

He stands up, placing me on my feet, and pulling my dress back up. He looks a little sad at covering me up again, and I can't say I blame him. If he put his shirt back on right now, I might cry.

"One last kiss goodnight before my cold shower?"

"If you let me kiss you somewhere other than your mouth, you wouldn't need that shower," I remind him.

"Patience is a virtue."

"No one's ever called me virtuous."

"I like being your first."

I roll my eyes as I laugh. "Of course, you do."

"Goodnight, Grace."

"Goodnight, Keir."

Our final kiss of the evening is sweet, and almost chaste; just a soft, quick press of lips. I like this man who makes me feel valued, and special. I'm still not completely sure I should, but I do.