Chapter Sixteen
Rhenn
“One more kiss may never be enough, Angel.”
Truer words have never been spoken.
Her eyes darken and I can practically see the internal war in her head. I shouldn’t say things like this, not when the end is drawing near with every passing minute. The fact still remains, our relationship has a deadline. It will come to an end, whether either of us are ready or not. Yet, even though I shouldn’t say it, I can’t make myself stop. Because at the end of the day, I know that it’s true: one more kiss will never be enough.
Needing to change the direction of our thoughts, I go with, “Let’s head outside before they all leave.”
“Sounds good,” she says, steeling her back and turning.
She doesn’t make it far before I wrap my hand around her upper arm, and I gently turn her. Her eyes are full of surprise, but it’s quickly replaced with heat. “Later, I’m totally ravishing your booty.”
Marissa’s eyes burn darker and her lush, freshly kissed lips turn upward. “Does that make me your wench, captain?” she teases, her words going straight to my cock. I’ve pretty much been a walking hard-on for more than a week now. I should probably be concerned about some long-term damage.
Reaching down and grabbing her ass – because it really is fucking phenomenal – I pull her against my body and revel in the feel of her tits pressed against my chest. “Argh.” Marissa laughs, places a quick, chaste kiss on my lips and turns to head out the door. I let her go, even though I don’t really want to. “I’ll just be another minute,” I holler after her, watching the sway of her hips as she exits her house. “Once I get this boner under control,” I grumble to myself.
“I’d offer to help, but we’re on our way out, dear. You’ll just have to take care of your lovestick solo,” Emma says from behind, startling me.
“Jesus, woman, how did you get in here?”
“I slipped in the back door. If you two were bumping uglies, I wanted to make sure you were doing it right,” she adds casually with a sweet grandmotherly smile.
Yet, no grandmother I’ve ever met is like Emma.
“You’re a dirty ol’ woman,” I snort with a laugh, shaking my head.
“You speak the truth, Rhenn Burleski. Now, come give Emma a big hug so I can pinch your ass one last time before we go,” she says, approaching with her hands out.
I should run the other way, but I know she means it in good fun.
Horny ol’ woman.
She does, in fact, pinch my ass, as I give her a parting hug. “Come on, let’s go find your husband. I bet he’s anxious to get everyone on the road.”
“He’s more disappointed that we’re riding with Brian and Cindy. Road-head used to be one of his favorites,” she replies with that ornery gleam in her eyes.
I laugh. “Back when you were younger?” I bet they have stories for days.
“Younger? Shoot, Rhenn. Last Tuesday.”
* * *
After the third load of laundry is pulled from the dryer and folded, I put all the clean clothes back in the bag, minus the khaki shorts and polo I’ve changed into for tonight. It’s just after six and I’m starving. Not only for food, but for Marissa. She’s been in her room, packing another night bag and getting ready for dinner. There’s a small steakhouse in town that Jensen said was good, so I plan to take her there. Then, we’ll come back here to grab the bags and head off to my boat.
For the night.
Just as the last towel is placed in the bag, her bedroom door opens. Marissa steps out wearing a light pink sundress that hugs her curves and dips dangerously low between her tits. She’s wearing a bit more makeup than normal and a pair of silver strappy sandals on her feet. Her hair is pulled back from her face, yet spills down her back in long blonde waves. She looks like an angel.
My Angel.
I whistle the moment she steps fully into the kitchen. She offers me a happy smile and spins around one time. The back of the dress is hard-on inducing, with much of her skin exposed. “Damn,” I groan, taking in a long, appreciative perusal of her appearance.
“Thank you,” she replies, stepping forward, a small white sweater in her hand.
“You look amazing.” I place a kiss on her cheek, careful not to get too close to her lips. I’m liable to throw our entire evening plans out the window and take her right here on the kitchen floor.
She runs her hands up my chest, my body already responding to the way she touches me. Yeah, I’ve had women fawn and grope all over me before, but there’s something different in the way her hands feel. It’s as if my body is recognizing the person who was made to touch it.
NO.
Stop right there, brain.
You’re getting way out of line here. Yes, her touch feels different, but that’s probably because I haven’t gone this long without sex in my entire life. Well, not since college. As soon as I figured out how many women are willing to fuck for fun, I haven’t exactly had a shortage of bedmates.
And now I just feel like the biggest pile of shit ever.
“You okay?” she asks, pulling back and gazing up at me with big, trusting eyes.
Clearing my throat, I reply, “Yeah. You ready?”
She nods and takes my hand. My heart starts to pound at the small gesture, and I can’t even begin to understand why. I haven’t even slept with this woman yet, and she has me tied in knots. That’s a sign that I should leave. I should get back on my boat and sail into the fucking sunset.
But I won’t.
I can’t.
Yeah, I might be confused about these pesky feelings that keep trying to push to the surface, but I’m not confused about one thing: sex. She asked for a no-strings relationship, and if there’s one thing I’m good at it’s that. I can give her exactly what she wants, and at the end of our time, walk away with a smile on my face.
And plenty of memories burned into my mind that I’ll never forget.
She doesn’t lock her house, something I’ve noticed she rarely does, as we head out. My truck is still parked in the driveway, right next to her small car. I help her up in the cab – like all good gentlemen do – never once copping a feel. Okay, lie. I totally brush my hand over her delicious ass as she climbs up. The knowing look on her face tells me she felt it, and the naughty grin lets me know it didn’t bother her one bit.
It doesn’t take long to arrive at the place her brother recommended. It’s a small restaurant with well-worn tables and chairs, and a comfortable atmosphere. There are plenty of open tables, probably in light of the fact that today’s Memorial Day. “Have a seat anywhere,” the bartender says from behind the bar, a handful of patrons parked on stools.
“Over here,” Marissa says, heading away from the few tables with diners and toward the dark booth in the back.
A waitress comes from the kitchen area, bringing us menus and glasses of water. “Oh, hey, Marissa. How are you?” the tall brunette says, setting down our glasses.
“Good, Felicity. How are things with you? When did you move back to town?” Marissa says, her smile just a tad tight as she gives the waitress her attention.
“Oh, everything’s good. I just got back a few weeks ago. I heard your sister opened up a shop down the street?” the waitress coos to Marissa.
“She did,” Marissa confirms, glancing down at her menu and not elaborating further.
“I’ll have to stop in. I haven’t seen her in forever,” Felicity says, drawing out the last word and flipping her long hair over her shoulder.
“I’m sure she’d be delighted.” Only I can tell Marissa doesn’t think her sister would be all that happy to see Felicity drop by for a visit.
“Are you ready to order?” I ask Marissa, trying to steer the conversation to safer ground.
She orders a steak and fries, while I choose the steak and baked potato. We both order a beer, and while our waitress goes off to grab our drinks and salad bar plates, I reach for her hand and rub the tender skin over her knuckles. “So what was with Felicity?”
Marissa rolls her eyes. “She hated my sister in school. They competed for everything. Head cheerleader, class president, the quarterback, everything.”
“So her asking about Harper and wanting to stop by was bullshit?”
“Probably. She just wants to be nosy and see what Harp has been up to,” Marissa says quickly as Felicity returns with our beers.
“Here ya go. And if you need anything, just let me know,” Felicity says with a big smile, winking at me before she turns to leave.
I ignore her parting comment and return my eyes to my date. “So? Who won?”
Marissa sets her bottle down on the table and gives me a questioning look. “Who won what?”
“Head cheerleader, class president, and the quarterback.”
“Oh,” she laughs, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “Harper won it all.”
I laugh. “Of course she did. She’s the bomb.”
“She won because she was the whole package. Harper has always been beautiful, charismatic, smart, and outgoing.”
“Well, Felicity back in town might make things a bit more interesting,” I say, taking a drink of my own beer.
“Definitely. I have no doubt there are no good intentions where she’s concerned.”
A few seconds of silence hang between us. Marissa scans the room, checking out the other diners, while I take the opportunity to check her out. Her eyes are a bright green, very similar to those of her cousin’s. Her cheekbones are high and swiped with a hint of pink, and her lips have a light sheen of nude colored gloss. I almost wish they were painted a deep red so I can smear it all over her face with my lips.
Felicity returns with plates for the salad bar. We make our way to the opposite side of the room and fill up on salad, pasta, and fruit. Marissa wastes no time diving in the moment we get back to the table. I love the fact that she isn’t afraid to eat.
“Tell me more about your family.” The words are out of my mouth between bites before I can stop them. I never want to know family details. Never. But with Marissa, I find myself wanting to know everything about what makes her her.
“Well, you’ve met them all. Samuel is a mortician at one of the funeral parlors. He’s the oldest, never married, and probably showers in his suit.” That makes me laugh, because, frankly, I think it might be true. “Harper is next and owns a lingerie store in town.”
Leaning forward, I set my fork down and drop my voice. “Do you own anything from there, Angel?”
Her eyes meet mine, a slow burn filling those emerald orbs. “Maybe.”
“Maybe I can see them sometime?”
“I’m pretty sure that if you continue to play your cards right, you’ll be seeing them in about an hour,” she adds with a flare of sass that goes straight to my balls.
I playfully gasp. “You’re wearing something from her lingerie shop right now?”
“It’s quite possible,” she says with a shrug.
“Let me see.” I reach for the tablecloth and bend down to look under the table.
“Stop!” she whisper-yells, swatting at my hand with her own.
“I’m not going to be able to sit here and eat, knowing you’re wearing something dirty under that beautiful dress.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“Probably not,” I add sadly, picking up a piece of lettuce with my fork. “Unless…you wanted to just give me a little hint?”
Marissa shakes her head, a joyful smile on her face. “A hint, huh? Like if I just mention that they’re blue like your eyes, that’ll get you through until the later part of our evening?”
Blue like my eyes. Holy shit, this woman is doing a number on me. “What about the material? The color is a delightful detail, but if you told me the material, I’m sure I’d be able to survive the next hour.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“That I am, Angel. That I am,” I answer, offering her a smile and taking a bite of my pasta salad. She doesn’t say anything for several seconds, and the silence suits us just fine. I’m comfortable with her in nearly any situation, and I love the fact neither of us feels the need to add mindless chatter.
When I push my plate away, I see she’s already finished her salad. She glances my way, a smirk toying on her lips. “Satin with lace. Thong.” Without saying a word, I toss my napkin down on the table, reach for her hand, which she reluctantly and with a lot of question in her eyes takes, and haul her to her feet. “Where are we going? We haven’t eaten dinner?”
I place my lips to hers. “We’re taking it to go, Angel.”
“But you asked for a hint,” she counters.
“Yeah, but now the picture is so vivid in my head, I need to know if the real thing is just as fucking phenomenal as what I’m imagining.”
Her eyes dilate and darken, even beneath the low lighting of the restaurant. Felicity returns to the table, a plate in each hand, and gives us a questioning look. I’m sure I look like I’m about to throw this woman over my shoulder, our destination unknown, but one fact remains: I want to fuck the hell out of her. All. Night. Long.
Marissa keeps her eyes locked on mine as she says, “We’ll take those steaks to go, Felicity.”
Guilt sweeps in, and I open my mouth to protest. This isn’t how a date works, at least not a proper one. I should be able to control my cock for an hour so that we can enjoy a nice meal together. The end of the evening is already pretty much a guarantee, but that doesn’t mean I should turn all caveman-like on her and forget my manners.
Before I tell our waitress to leave the food and take my seat in the booth, Marissa goes for the kill. She grazes her hand over my hard cock, essentially cutting off what little blood flow I had to my actual brain, and says, “Check please.”
She turns and winks at Felicity, who’s standing beside us, mouth gaping open and shock written all over her face. Then, because this woman is hell-bent on stepping over every line she’s ever drawn in place for herself, she threads her hands behind my neck and pulls me down, her lips meeting mine in a fierce kiss.
A kiss that’s a prelude.
A promise.
Best. Date. Ever.