Before I know it, it’s 5:58 p.m. Saturday night, and having scheduled myself off for the night—and the next day—I’m footloose and fancy free.
I should be nervous about tonight. And yet after meeting Millen twice at the bar, and that kiss, I’m bouncing with anticipation by the time I hear a car pull into my driveway. With one last look in the mirror, I quickly grab my black blazer from my closet, slip my phone into my purse, and walk toward the front of the house.
I’ve gone for a sexy, sultry, you-know-you-want-me-but-I’m-gonna-make-you-work-for-it look: smoky eyes, a midnight blue satin bustier, and dark-wash skinny jeans, finished off with black wedge heels. All of it is aimed at knocking him on his ass at first glance.
He knocks on the door just as I reach the entryway and without hesitation—not even a few seconds to play it cool—I turn the handle. My plan to floor him goes out the window because it’s me that’s cut off at the knees at the sight of him. A week was definitely too long. He’s sex on legs in a perfect Millen-sized package.
His hair has that run-your-hands-through-it-and-grip-it-tight look. His grey button-down is open at the neck, tucked into tailored slacks that taper at the hips and drop down to shiny black wingtips. His cuffs are rolled up to the elbow, showing off his tan that only highlights exactly how hot this guy is.
Hot is always good. What makes Millen beyond the realms of hot is the wide-eyed, gaping-mouthed look of wonder on his face. He doesn’t say a word, his eyes speaking volumes as they roam my face to my chest, down to the tips of my toes and back again, a laser beam of heat following the path.
When he finally meets my gaze, his jaw is twitching and there’s a war being waged behind his eyes.
Without warning he moves, crowding me until my back meets the wall, his body crushing me from chest to thighs. “Jesus, you smell fucking amazing,” he groans, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “With this outfit and everything that’s you, I swear you’re trying to test me.”
I rest my hands on his waist, my fingers biting in when he places a soft kiss below my ear. “I know we’re going out for dinner, but exactly how hungry are you?” His voice is a delicious rasp vibrating against my skin, making me tremble not just with his words but the intimation behind them.
Deciding two can play this game, I slide my hands up his back, turning my head so my lips brush against his skin. “For food or the after-dinner entertainment?”
He drops his forehead to my shoulder, a breathed out “fuck” escaping his lips.
A corner of my mouth is curled up when he lifts his head and turns to look at me. “Damn, you’re beautiful.”
My lady parts convulse in delight at his words because there’s nothing better than having the man you like/lust/want to shackle to your bed, call you beautiful. When a man like Millen Ross says it, you prepare to drop to your knees and offer the appropriate method of worship. My cheeks heat, and I fight the urge to look away.
“And when you look like that,” he says, wetting his bottom lip, “it makes me want to see just how far that blush goes.”
Woman. Down.
“We’re going out to dinner, but first I have to do this.” Dropping my purse to the ground, I drive my fingers into his hair, lift up on my toes, and crush my mouth to his. The moment the tip of my tongue touches his, it’s on like Donkey Kong. My grip on his hair tightens, his hands start to roam, and I’m lost in the feeling of his lips on mine, his hard body pressing against me, and the pinpoint accuracy of our hips as they roll against each other.
Needing to stop this before I give the neighbors a show, I drop my hands to his shoulders and gently push back. He moves and leans against the doorframe. His eyes are blazing when they meet mine, our breathing fast and shallow, trying to capture some desperately needed air.
“As much as I don’t want to stop the direction we’re going in, I really do want to take you out for dinner. And you’ve been driving for an hour and a half, I think I should feed you before you run out of energy.” His eyes that were just starting to calm down spark to life again, a lascivious grin appearing on his face.
“Oh, I’m liking the sound of this more and more. Do continue.” His attention drops to my lips as I run my tongue along them. “Damn, your lips look amazing after I kiss you. I can’t wait to see them after you’ve—”
I rush forward and cover his mouth with my hand, his mouth turning up into a smile beneath my arm. “If you say it, I’ll wanna do it and then we’ll never get fed.”
“That too. But first, food.” I slide my hand into his before he leads me down the steps and into his car. Shutting the door behind me, he rounds the hood and takes his place behind the steering wheel.
I turn in my seat and look at him, my heart racing. Why does he have such a profound effect on me?
He’s thoughtful. He’s considerate. He listens. If that kiss affected him anywhere near as much as it did me, he’ll still be walking around with a battering ram between his legs—yes, I felt it—and still had the wherewithal to ignore strongly calling basal instincts and do what I wanted—to have dinner with him. An adult conversation over a meal—how truly grown up is that? And he wants to do it. Well, it’s probably his second choice right now, but he catapulted it—and me—into first place without a moment’s hesitation. One big gold star for him!
He doesn’t hide his surprise when I direct him to park outside my favorite restaurant in town, a small hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant, home to what I refer to as the world’s best burritos.
Turning toward me, he looks out at the front of the building then back to me, raising a brow as one corner of his mouth curves up. “I’m not usually speechless, but—”
I place my index finger against his lips. “Stop right there. Didn’t your mom ever teach you not to judge a book by its cover? Or in this case, the food by the look of the restaurant?”
His mirth falters for a minute, so fast I might’ve missed it if I wasn’t watching him, but he recovers quickly, that sexy smirk of his distracting me. “Yes, but there’s judging and then there’s considering whether I want to live past tomorrow. I’m currently weighing up my options.”
“Oh shush, you.” I playfully shove his shoulder before linking my fingers with his and giving them a squeeze. “I promise you, this place has the best food in town. Would I lead you astray?” His eyes darken and drop to my lips as he leans forward, making his intentions clear. “Nuh-uh, buddy. If you kiss me again, I might not want to get out of this car, and considering my dad also loves this restaurant, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he comes out any minute with his weekly takeout order. The last thing I need is him seeing me half-naked with a strange man. He’s had more than his fair share of seeing that already in my thirty-two years.”
Millen’s head jerks back and tilts to the side. “There are so many parts of that sentence I want to explore but one of them is not meeting your dad with my tongue in your mouth.”
“Good choice.”
“Something tells me there’s a story there I should know about.”
“Of course,” I reply with a laugh.
“You, half-naked in a car, on a public street? There’s a lot there that interests me.”
“Again, not surprised.” I reach for the door handle but a gentle squeeze of my fingers stops me in my tracks.
“You may have chosen the restaurant but let me be the man I was raised to be and open your door.”
I purse my lips and look down at our joined hands. I can’t hide how happy him saying that makes me.
He gives my fingers a gentle squeeze and lets me go. Getting out of the car, he rounds the hood and opens my door for me.
When I’m standing by him on the sidewalk, he shuts my door and beeps the locks. Slipping his hand into mine, he leads me into the restaurant.
Once we’ve been shown to our table, the waitress takes our drink order and leaves us alone with our menus. Looking around the room, I’m surprised at how quiet it is for a Saturday night. Normally the place would be buzzing, but surprisingly there are still quite a few tables spare.
Thankfully it means we won’t need to shout in order to converse with each other—always a good thing for a first date.
“Do you realize that apart from the two times I’ve been in your car, we usually have a giant piece of wood between us?” I say, opening the menu in front of me despite always ordering the same thing every time I come here.
When Millen doesn’t say anything, I look up to be met by a huge smirk and a raised brow. “Huge?”
That dirty mind of his will be my undoing.
“Well, I wouldn’t say huge…”
“Ah, but I heard it. I’m sure the couple behind us did too. Maybe we should go ask them.” He’s beaming now, and it’s contagious.
“That won’t be necessary.” I shake my head, unable to hide my own grin. “I meant the bar and the table.”
He holds his hands up in supplication. “Hey, you said wood. How was I supposed to know you were keeping things above board? I mean, for all I knew, you could have been trying to seduce me.”
“Nah, not before the mains. I always feed my dates before sweet talking them into bed.”
“Is that right?” he asks, his voice laced with an edge of I don’t know what.
Deciding not to focus on something I can’t analyze now, I forge ahead, holding my hand over my heart and gasping in mock horror. “I’ll have you know, I’m a good girl. I even have the girl scout badges to prove it.”
“You’re good, alright,” he murmurs, his darkened eyes telling me he sees straight through me.
The waitress returns with two bottles of Victoria. When we both order a “Super,” which is a burrito with everything but the kitchen sink in it, she takes our menus away and leaves us alone again.
“Cheers,” he says, lifting his beer bottle into the air between us.
I match him, pausing before touching the glass to his. “What are we toasting to?”
“To good food, better beer, and the best company.”
Nodding in agreement, I clink my bottle against his before taking a sip.
I don’t bother ignoring how normal this feels. It’s a first date, but it’s like it’s our tenth. I was nervous before he turned up but the minute he kissed me—the minute he touched me—the butterflies disappeared, leaving a wave of warmth in their place. “I’m impressed, by the way.”
“Why’s that?” He reaches over and slides his fingers with mine.
“You know your beer.”
He laughs. “That surprises you? I spent four years in college in Texas. I know my beer. I know my Mexican beer, and I especially know my tequila.”
“Lots of trips south then?”
“Just a few. As a Ross, you only get those few years free from the family business so you make the most of them.”
“As a Ross?”
“Remember when I said we moved to the West Coast?” he asks, and I nod. “We moved when my grandfather bought out his competition. Soon after, my father took over the company, publicly listed it, and—”
“Do you mean the Ross Corporation?” I gasp. The company isn’t just some run-of-the-mill family business. It grew from a small ma and pa boutique distillery to a multi-million dollar empire, expanding into not only production of a wide range of different spirits but also distribution and international exports.
“One and the same,” he replies, taking another drink. I’m momentarily distracted by the reflection of the lights on his wet bottom lip, remembering what it felt like to be kissed by him, the way he took control from the first touch. He chuckles, breaking me out of my daze. “You alright there, Kenz? You don’t seem the type to be seeing dollar signs at the mere sound of my father’s company.”
“You’re right, I’m not. I was just a little… distracted.”
“Oh?”
“Never mind. It’s nothing.”
“Hey now, quid pro quo. You said I’d never find anyone as honest as you are.”
Dammit. I narrow my eyes at his twitching lips. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Yep.”
“Trust me to find a guy with the memory of an elephant.”
“Yep.” His grin widens as he leans toward me. “Tell me what distracted you, Kenz.”
“Your lips, okay?” My cheeks heat. I swear I’ve never blushed more than I have since I met Millen. His gaze drops to my mouth and lingers, my tongue darting out before I even know it’s happening. A growl rumbles in his chest and his eyes flash as his fingers tense in mine.
Clenching my legs together and desperately needing to focus on something less physical, I change the subject. “So you work for your dad then?” That breaks the moment.
“Yeah,” he says with a nod, his thumb picking at the beer label. “I’m in management.”
“Management, huh?” I do air quotes with my spare hand.
He chuckles. “Yeah. One of those jobs, but one where I actually do the work instead of sitting back and resting on my family name.”
“I see. So a real man then.” I can’t hold back a smile
“Indeed,” he says with a grin.
“So does all of your family work for the company?”
“I’m the only child in the country. My younger sister, Ashley, left for Europe as soon as she could, so it’s all on me.” His smile falters for a second, so quickly I almost think I’m seeing things. “Enough about me. What about you?”
“Well, you know I went away for college.”
“And you came back.”
“I did,” I reply, taking another drink.
“Your parents?”
“Dad lives here, obviously.” I wave my hand around the restaurant. “Given he’s probably the main reason the owner of this place, Mr. Martinez, can take his wife to Anguila twice a year.”
“He’s a fan of Mexican food then?”
“He’s a fan of any food he doesn’t have to prepare himself,” I say.
Millen’s responding smile is so endearing, it’s also contagious. “A man after my own heart.”
My eyes widen. “You don’t cook?”
“I can cook. Having the time to cook is a whole other question.”
“Because of work?” I ask, lifting my beer bottle to my lips.
“Yep.”
Then I remember him spending all of last weekend here. “You stayed an extra day last week…”
His smile turns knowing with a flash of wicked. “Let’s just say I had someone who piqued my interest and put a line in the sand for me. I always love a challenge.”
“And I’m that challenge.”
“You’re the reward.”
Holy Jesus, words every woman wants to hear. “And once you get the reward?” I ask, my confidence wavering and my voice failing to hide it.
Millen’s eyes soften as he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “That’s one of life’s big questions, isn’t it? What happens when you get the one thing you want?”
Whoa. That doesn’t sound like a one- or two-night thing. That sounds like a whole lot more.
We sit there in silence, our eyes locked together, his full of total utter honesty.
“So,” he says, breaking the moment. “Tell me three things about you most people don’t already know.”
“There’s a conversation starter,” I mutter with a laugh.
“It’s our first date. That’s what happens when you want to get to know someone.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows another mouthful of beer and I can’t help but stare. Is it getting hot in here?
“Right, three things. I hate olives, I love TV crime dramas, and…” I bite my lip and tilt my head, looking over his shoulder as I think about the final thing. “I despise liars.”
He does a double brow lift at that. “That’s not at all what I thought you’d say.”
“It’s pretty deep and meaningful. I’m not sure that’s a first-date topic.”
“As long as it’s not about how you hate the male race because they’re all lying, cheating assholes, then I think we’re good,” he says, leaning back in his chair and chuckling quietly.
It only takes a moment for me to decide between brushing over the topic or laying it all out there. I choose the latter. “I believe in being completely honest with people. It’s one of my core values. Probably stemming from the fact my mother cheated on my father for years with our next door neighbor and I saw first-hand what that kind of betrayal can do to a man.”
“And a woman?” I don’t miss the unasked question.
“I only made that mistake once. A college boyfriend who thought out of state meant out of mind.”
“Any relationship—be it long or short—deserves respect; that means fidelity. Otherwise, why bother being in a relationship at all?”
Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. “To me, there’s no other way to be. If people know what you want, what you stand for, what you expect from them, then they can either be with you or not… I can’t control what other people do, but I damn well make it clear what my deal breakers are.”
“Cheating?”
“Cheating, lying, not being honest about themselves, their feelings, their intentions…” Needing to do something, I turn my hand over with his. “I always said I’d never stand for being cheated on or—in turn—be the woman a man cheated with. I’m the one who has to look herself in the mirror every morning and live with the things I’ve done. Right now, I can. I wanna keep it that way.” I shrug, racking my brain over how this light conversation suddenly took a deep turn.
Millen’s look grows intense, his expression totally open and honest. “I like that,” he states plainly, just putting it out there. No bullshit.
My lips twitch, and I find myself looking down at our joined hands and smiling. He slides his fingers out of mine and reaches across the table, placing his thumb under my chin and tilting my head up until I meet his gaze. “God, you’re beautiful,” he says, his eyes roaming my features. “I mean that, Kenz. Not just to look at either. You’re fucking stunning in that respect, but I’m not sure I’ve ever met a woman who is as upfront as you are. You don’t hide anything. And in my life, there are a lot of secrets and half-truths, broken promises and closed-door deals.” His eyes darken but he catches himself and schools his features, cupping my cheek in his hand. “Whatever happens here, wherever this thing between us goes or does not go, I won’t ever lie to you. There is no Mrs. Ross waiting for me back in San Francisco other than my mother. There’s no girlfriend. There isn’t even a current hook-up. Right now, the only woman I’m pursuing in my life is you. And hopefully, you’re happy to keep it that way while we figure whatever this is going to be out.”
Talk about laying it all out there. I spot the waitress coming up behind him with our food.
“Saved by the bell,” I breathe with a sigh.
He drops his hand and makes room for our plates as the waitress places them on the table in front of us. “Enjoy. Let me know if you need anything else,” she says cheerfully.
“I’ve got everything I need right here,” Millen replies, his legs tangling with mine.
Picking up my burrito, I take a bit, locking my gaze with his across the table.
“Mmmmmm,” I groan, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as the foodgasm I’m experiencing takes hold.
Mid-bite I look over at Millen. He hasn’t touched his food. Instead he’s leaning back in his chair, one forearm resting casually on the table, his gaze fixed on me. It’s intense. Penetrating. It’s hot as fucking hell, so hot I put my food down to stop myself from dropping it when I jump the table and hop into Millen’s lap.
“Never thought I’d say this, but I kind of wish I was that burrito.” He reaches out, wrapping his hand around his beer bottle and lifting it to his lips.
“Is that your way of telling me you have lots of sauce too?”
Suddenly, my chest is sprayed with beer as he splutters and chokes. Another woman might be disgusted that she’s now wearing beer down her front but seriously, it’s funny as hell and I can’t help but laugh at the look of absolute shock—morphing into mortification—on his face.
“Oh shit,” he says, grabbing desperately at the napkins on the table before standing up, reaching over and drying my chest off without hesitation.
I laugh harder as I watch the concentrated look on his face as his hands navigate the curves and valley of my drying cleavage. “Is this your way of skipping first base? The ol’ ‘spit your drink over your date and have to dry it up’ trick? Because, seriously, all you had to do was ask.”
His hands freeze as my words register, his eyes snapping to mine. With twitching lips, he gives the area one last rub down—this time with more calculated movements—before dropping his arms and examining his work.
Placing the napkin on the table, he leans in and braces an arm on the back of my seat. “You’re on to my plan. I might have to up my game.”
I tilt my chin, bringing my face—and lips—closer to his. “If you up your game, then I think I’ll be in more trouble than I am right now.”
He dips his head and dropping his voice. “And how much trouble is that?”
My fingers grip the edge of the table to stop myself from putting on a show for the staff… “Let’s see. You got me half turned on just with your hello in my entryway, you got me all the way with your gentleman act, and now, despite spraying your beer all over me, I’m letting you grope me in public and holding myself back from jumping you. So Trouble is my middle name right about now, and if you’re not careful, I’m fully prepared to say ‘screw it’ and have this burrito to go so that it can be a mid-round snack when I do get you home.”
“You’re that far gone already?”
“I was done for the minute you had me against the wall.” His eyes flare with heat and without any romantic preamble—thank God for that—he wraps his hand around the back of my neck and holds me in place as he kisses the living hell out of me right there in the middle of my favorite restaurant.
Unfortunately for me, it’s over far too quickly for my liking, and I’m soon left sagging against my seat, struggling to recover.
Now he’s the one looking across the table smirking at me as he picks up his food and starts eating, his satisfied gaze all I can see. “I have a question,” he says, in between bites.
“Mmm-hmm.” Should I get this burrito to go.
“Kenz?”
Making my decision, I throw my arm up and call over the waitress, asking her for a doggy bag. She looks at Millen, then back to me, shooting me a knowing grin before carrying the plates away and leaving us alone.
“You do know I didn’t even get to have a bite?” he says, quirking a brow.
“That’s because you were too busy watching me eat mine.”
“I’m a little obsessed with your mouth.” I bite my lip, secretly loving the way his eyes dance with amusement. He knows he’s getting to me.
“I meant kissing, but don’t let me hold you back. Feel free to do anything you like with it,” he adds with a wink. He shifts his chair back and stands, holding his hand out to me. “Absolutely anything, Kenz.” He dips his head and brushes his lips against mine.
Somehow, I manage to follow his lead as we walk toward the front of the restaurant where he pays the check, grabs our takeout, and walks out the door.
On the drive home, the butterflies come back. When Millen pulls his car into my driveway, I’m about ready to burst out of my skin.
First meeting. First kiss. First date. Check, check, and check.
Now, it’s time for the real fun to begin.