I wake Friday morning with an excitement I’ve never experienced before. Dinner with Ines, just the two of us, tonight. I feel like I’m headed out to the senior prom with the girl of my dreams. There’s just something about her that makes me feel ten feet tall, and eighteen years old. Last night I made reservations at one of my favorite restaurants, Dish.

I don’t care what we do after dinner, or where we go, all I want to do is spend time with her. I want to get to know her and find out if this feeling is real, or just fleeting because she’s new.

Am I only physically attracted to her? Or is it more? Something about her makes me believe that it’s more than just because she’s young and pretty, there’s something deep inside of her that is like a magnet. I don’t think I could stay away from her, even if I tried.

Picking up my phone, I send her a text and let her know what time to be ready. Then ask her to meet me at the café right outside of the campus. For some reason, it seems wrong that I should pick her up on campus for a date. I’m already breaking about a million university policies as it is, not to mention vows.

The last thing I want to do is go and teach today, my mind is clearly on Ines, and nothing else. Then I remember that she’s in my first class, and that sends a spike of adrenaline through my system. I rush to get dressed, then drive toward the school. I forego my usual cup of coffee from the café. I’m too fucking on edge to add caffeine to my system.

Class starts, and I’m surprised to see Ines breeze through ten minutes early, instead of right on time, or late. I glance over at her and give her a smile. She blushes when I wink in her direction. I shouldn’t be so damn obvious, but with her, it’s difficult to act unaffected—she affects me just by being present.

Turning away from her, I lecture, collect papers and then dismiss the students. Part of me wishes that she would stay after the class is dismissed, but the other part just wants this day to fly by so that I can see her this evening.

Once the class is empty, I look up from my desk and see her sitting in her seat. There’s something heady in the air, her eyes widen, and my nostrils flare. If I could lock this door and fuck her right now, I would. I’m afraid of myself, afraid to move because if I do, I’m afraid I’ll start and I won’t stop.

“Tonight,” I grunt.

She stands and walks toward the door, a small smile playing on her lips, her eyes staying connected to mine. “Tonight,” she says, then opens the door and is gone.

I let out a deep breath and finish my day. Tonight. Fuck. It feels like a lifetime away. The rest of my afternoon passes fairly quickly, and I head home, wishing to unwind for a few minutes before I need to get ready. I lay on my couch, turn the television on, and watch a few innings of the baseball playoff game.

When my alarm sounds that it’s time for me to get ready for tonight, I practically run toward my bedroom. I’m acting like a fucking teenager, still, my excitement not waning even an ounce as the day has continued.

I spend much too long trying to decide on what to wear. I grab a pair of dark washed straight cut jeans, black boots, a grey button-down and my black leather jacket. I opt out of a tie, deciding it would make me look more my age, and there is no way I want to look old.

Once I’ve showered, I glance at myself in the mirror as I brush my teeth and try to decide if I should shave my face or not. Shaking my head, I opt out of shaving in favor of the dark scruff I have covering my chin and jawline.

Hurrying to get ready, I glance at my phone on the nightstand and almost leave it there. Deciding not to, I take it in case Ines needs to get ahold of me between now and when I arrive at our meeting spot. It doesn’t take me long to drive toward the campus, and admittedly I speed quite a bit to get there, my foot feeling heavy on the gas pedal.

The café is busier than I had anticipated for a Friday night, especially since they don’t serve alcohol. I stand right outside the patio seating railing and wait. She texted me to confirm our plans, so I don’t think she’ll ditch me. I shove my hands in my pockets and wait. It feels like I wait for a fucking lifetime and then cool fingers touch the side of my neck.

Turning around, my breath escapes me. She’s standing in front of me, her sheet of black hair, long and straight. Her makeup, heavier than yesterday, but still subtle, except her lips—those are painted a bright red. My nostrils flare at the idea of those red lips wrapped around my cock, while her caramel eyes look up at me, innocently.

My gaze travels down her torso and I try hard but fail, in emitting a groan. She’s wearing the tightest navy blue dress I have ever seen in my life. It’s short, hitting her around mid-thigh, and the sleeves are off the shoulder, exposing her entire upper chest and the swells of her breasts. It’s fucking sinful, especially with the extremely high gold heels she has on her feet.

“Hey,” she smiles, as I continue to stare and don’t actually say anything in greeting.

I don’t speak. She’s stolen my breath. So, I do the next best thing. Leaning down just a few inches, I press my lips to hers. My initial intention is to just graze her mouth with mine, but as soon as my lips touch hers, and her smell and taste envelop me, I know that I have to have more. Slipping my tongue into her mouth, I fully taste her.

Ines lets out a whimper, and both of her hands wrap around my neck, while her full breasts press against my chest. If we weren’t in public right now, I would push her up against the first hard surface I could find and have my way with her. I fucking need her, more than I’ve ever needed anything before, the desire is overwhelming.

“Thomas,” she sighs against my mouth.

My only response is a grunt as I grip her waist tightly. She’s so curvy, and yet her waist is so small that I could probably wrap my hands around her and have my fingers touch. Lifting my gaze from her lips, I look straight into her eyes and my fingers flex. A barrage of emotion fills me. This woman, she’s more than just some girl—I can feel it. I’m not sure if I’m ready for all she could potentially be for me.

Clearing my throat, I don’t tell her what I’m thinking, I don’t understand it myself. Until I do, I can’t explain it or express it. “Are you ready?” I ask.

She nods as she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. Wrapping my hand around hers, I guide her toward my car. We don’t talk, but I don’t feel uncomfortable. In fact, I feel at ease just having her by my side. All of the anxiousness from earlier has completely melted away. Her small hand squeezes mine and I look down to her as we slow down, nearing my car.

“Wow, this is your car?” she practically breathes.

I glance at my car, then back at her. I’ve never really thought much about it. I enjoy my ride, and I bought it because I enjoy the luxury it offers, but not because I wanted to look flashy or boastful about money.

In reality, I don’t make millions, and my house payment is low. I don’t spend a lot on myself, and my paycheck is mine to do with as I please, just as Danielle’s is for herself and herself alone. I mumble a thanks, opening the door for her. Once she’s inside, I gently close the door behind her and make my way to the driver’s seat.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asks as I pull out onto the road and head toward the restaurant.

Inhaling deeply, I let out an exhale and glance over at her. “I just never thought about how my car would make me look,” I admit truthfully.

“Do you think that I see you differently? That I think you’re rich?” she asks. I stop at the red light and glance over at her. She’s got a grin on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes. She’s fucking with me.

Lifting my hand, I press my thumb against her bright red bottom lip. “Do you see me differently?” I ask quietly.

She laughs, it’s husky and sexy as sin. “No,” she says shaking her head. “This is exactly how I pictured your car. Something sleek and sexy, just like you.” Her cheeks tint pink with her words. I want to say more, maybe reach across the center console and kiss her, but the light turns green.

From that moment on, Ines talks, and she doesn’t stop. It’s refreshing, and I find that I enjoy listening to her speak. She tells me that she comes from a big family, she has four older siblings and she’s the baby.

When I pull into the parking lot of the restaurant, she tells me that she was raised by a single mother. Hearing that hits a chord deep within me, our backgrounds are similar, and maybe that is just another reason we’re drawn to one another.

Exiting the car, I jog over to her side and help her out as well. Taking her hand in mine, I tell her that I was raised by a single father. “What happened to your mom?” she asks, her brows pinched together and concern obvious in her features.

Slipping my arm around her shoulders, I tug her a little closer to my side. “My mom just left one day. She couldn’t handle being a mother, I suppose, or maybe she thought because my father was the head of a successful company that she would be a wealthy housewife who shopped all day in the city?”

Ines tips her head to the side, looking up at me. “But that wasn’t the case?”

“That wasn’t the case,” I agree. “He runs a successful company, but New York isn’t a cheap place to live, and my father isn’t one for material things. We lived comfortably but not lavishly. I don’t remember her well, but my father has spoken of her from time-to-time. She left us, and from then on, it was just me and Dad,” I shrug.

“That must have been hard,” she breathes as I open the door to the restaurant.

I hum as my only response. It was hard not having a mother, but I would assume that she already knows how that feels since she doesn’t have a father of her own. I inform the hostess of our reservation and she immediately takes us to our table. We’re seated in the back of the restaurant and I’m glad for it. The extra privacy is exactly what I desire, as I would like to know everything there is to know about Ines Nazario.

Once we’re seated I discard my menu, already knowing what I want, content to watch Ines read over her options. I watch as her brows knit together as her eyes take in the choices ahead of her. “What looks good to you?” I ask.

Her head pops up and her eyes widen. “I don’t know,” she states hesitantly.

“Do you like red meat?”

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and she nods, almost shyly. “The grilled beef tenderloin is one of my favorites, you should try it,” I urge.

I can’t take my eyes off of her as she searches the menu, then her expression changes to one of almost shock. She leans over as though she’s about to tell me a secret. I can’t keep my lips from turning up into a smile as she does, my eyes staying directly on hers, waiting to see what she says.

“That’s thirty dollars, Thomas, and it only comes with mashed potatoes and broccoli, not a salad or anything else. That could buy two Costco-sized pizzas,” she whispers.

I chuckle softly at her concern over the price of the food. It’s terribly endearing, and her wide-eyed innocence makes me want to take her to a million expensive restaurants, to terribly overpriced ones just so that I can see this look again, and again.

Leaning in a little, I give her a wink. “I’ll order you two, Ines. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

Whatever you want, it’s yours.

Thomas’ words surprise me. I’ve never dated anybody who has ever said them to me before. My heart skips a beat because I don’t think that he’s referring to only food. Not if the naughty gleam in his eyes is any indication. I open my mouth to say something, what I’m not sure, when the waiter arrives.

Without asking me anything, I listen as Thomas orders so many items from the menu that my head spins. I couldn’t keep track of everything, but I didn’t mistake the grilled beef tenderloin as one of the things he said. I reach for his hand, but he flicks his wrist and gives me another wink.

“Also, I’ll have a bottle of Peter Franus from your reserve,” he hums huskily.

I don’t know what that is, but it sounds fancy as hell. I’m completely out of my element here, and yet, I don’t feel like that when it’s just the two of us.

“For the lady, sir?” the waiter asks.

There’s a twinkle in his eye when Thomas glances to me. Then he turns back to the waiter. “She’ll have the Elderflower Spritzer.” The waiter nods and quietly disappears after taking our menus.

“What did you order?” I practically hiss.

Thomas laughs lightly, as though this is all a big joke. “I ordered you some pita bread and hummus, soup, your tenderloin, and a white wine spritzer. You’ll like it, I hope,” he shrugs.

“I’m not twenty-one,” I say, looking down in my lap, a sense of embarrassment washing over me. We haven’t discussed our ages, but I know he’s probably close to forty, and I doubt he knows my age.

Thomas reaches for my hand and tugs it across the table. Lifting my head, I look into his pretty blue gaze. “I know you’re not twenty-one, Ines. It’s very light, just something that I thought you would enjoy, same goes for the rest of dinner.”

“I’m eighteen, Thomas,” I admit.

His expression doesn’t change, he doesn’t act shocked or the least bit concerned at my confessed age. “I’m forty-four, Ines,” he mutters. He looks so unsure, and I hate that.

I turn my hand over and lace my fingers with his. “Does it bother you that I’m so young?”

His gaze stays connected to mine and I feel my body begin to heat under his scrutinizing gaze. Then, he tips his head to the side. “It should, but it doesn’t, not in the slightest. I think you’re absolutely stunning, and I’ve very much enjoyed our conversation this evening.”

I nod in agreement. “It doesn’t bother me either. You’re refreshing.”

He smiles, laughing a little, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Because I’m not talking about parties or classes?” he guesses.

Shaking my head, I can’t help but laugh myself. “No, because you aren’t trying to get me drunk. Aren’t trying to take advantage of me. You’re looking into my eyes, and not staring at my chest. I don’t know, I’ve never had that before,” I admit with a shrug.

“Don’t believe for a second that I’m not just like them, Ines. I’ll take advantage if you allow me,” he murmurs, his voice taking on a darker, deeper tone. “Your body is fantastic, and the taste you gave me yesterday has me wanting so very much more from you.”

“If I told you no, would you stop?” I ask, licking my lips.

His head jerks slightly. “Did someone, not stop?” he practically growls.

I think about his words, and I shake my head slowly. “Only because I ran,” I admit.

“I’ll kill him,” he states.

Giving his fingers another squeeze. “It’s not worth it, but you are different, and I like that about you.”

“I would never purposely hurt you, Ines.”

My eyes fill with tears and I try with everything inside of me to beat them back by the fierceness in his voice. “I know.”

Our food arrives a few minutes later, and I’m grateful for the interruption. We spend the rest of the evening discussing everything from our favorite movies to our favorite types of music. I’m surprised when Thomas admits that he enjoys Fun, Maroon 5, and Mumford & Son, I had pegged him for a classical music kind of guy. When I tell him as such he bursts out laughing.

“Angel eyes, why would you think I listen to classical music? Not that I have anything against it, I do enjoy it. I just don’t listen to it often.”

“I just figured all super smart scientist professor-types drank bourbon and listened to Mozart,” I admit with a smile.

We continue on with our conversation long after our food is gone, and our dessert. We don’t take a break in laughing and talking until the waiter apologizes to tell us that the restaurant is now closing. Thomas returns his apology and hands him his credit card. A few minutes later, after he’s signed the bill, we stand.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” he asks.

I nod, not wishing the night to end, not ever. I’ve never had so much fun just talking with a man. I’ve never wanted to know every single detail about another person before. He’s simply intriguing and so smart. I don’t know why he’s not married, or why he doesn’t have children, and I vow when I’m brave enough—I’ll ask him both questions.