Torn

He lifts my chin up. "Kenzi...it's a good distraction. I usually don't have anything to look forward to at the end of the day other than coming home to these two lazy fur monsters. Knowing you're going to be here, all cute and sexy, with a kick ass dinner and homemade apple pie you made for me is like hitting the lottery."

The sparkle of light in his eyes makes me hug him even tighter. I love hearing the playful, teasing, hopeful tone in his voice. He's got it all wrong, though. I'm the one who hit the lottery.

Later that day I'm still so jittery and nervous that I'm not even sure I can eat any of the dinner I've made for tonight, no matter how good it smells in the broiler. I only thought of him when I planned it, and had no idea he'd ask me to stay.

Is this a date?

I have no idea, but I definitely want it to be.

He said he's been thinking, but he didn't tell me if he reached any sort of conclusion about what he thinks of us being together and what we do next. As for me, I've been thinking about him and us and still have only come up with one unwavering constant: all I want is for us to be together. Somehow, someway, I want us to be able to be together as a real couple and just be happy. And I want our loved ones to be happy for us.

Diogee and Kitten run to wait by the front door together when they hear Tor's bike pull into the driveway for the second time today, and I get the feeling this is a nightly ritual for them and his earlier mid-afternoon visit was just as much as a surprise to them as it was to me. As I stand next to them and wait for him to come inside, I'm struck by how cute it is that they seem so excited that he's home, but it also makes my heart hurt a little with the realization that Toren's been coming home to a dark, empty house for a very long time, with no one at the door waiting for him.

Maybe it's too soon for me to be thinking thoughts like this, but I want to be waiting for him at the door every day next to his dog and cat.

Breathe, Kenzi. Slow down.

When he walks through the door, he tweaks my heart when he hands me three red roses, then bends down to give the dog a cookie and the kitten a crinkle ball toy.

I'm speechless, standing there holding my first roses, watching him play with the kitten on the floor, seemingly oblivious to how freakin' perfect he is.

"What?" he finally asks, standing. My beanie is on his head, only its faded now from the sun beating down on him when he rides. Tufts of dark hair are sticking out from the sides of the hat, and he has a small smudge of grease right above his left eyebrow that I want to reach out and rub off. He looks a bit disheveled and tired but he wears it well and it adds to his rugged charm.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He asks.

"I just didn't know you'd be like this." I answer softly. "Roses..."

He moves closer to me and leans down to kiss my cheek. "Because now I'm your lover. Not your friend. Not your godfather. Not your dad’s best friend. Big difference."

I blink at him, swaying, my heart racing. The word lover feels so...intimate. Powerful. Adult. Sexy.

He's still close to me, our bodies almost touching but not, his lips just inches away, when he brushes my hair away from my face.

"I love you, Angel. But I won't baby you when you're in my house, and in my bed. If we do this, the little girl and the uncle are left at the door." He kisses the spot behind my ear and brushes his lips across to my cheek. "Can you do that?"

I nod. "Yes."

"You know that a little rough isn't meant to hurt you, right? I would never hurt you."

I turn my face into his, my lips just barely touching his. "I liked it a little rough." My words are just above a whisper, but I know he hears them from the way his breathing changes.

I've read an embarrassing number of romance and erotica books over the past few months in what I can only describe as a quest for personal research, and I can't lie - the rougher, harder, alpha scenes definitely got to me, and made me turn those pages faster. I secretly hoped he would be that way, and I even dreamt of him that way.

He hums and lets out a deep, sensual laugh. "I kinda knew you would. You like to make me want you, like you did with those pictures. Don't you?"

Guilty.

"Yes." I whisper, as his fingers slowly trail down my arm, from my shoulder to my wrist. I shiver from the feather light touch.

"You can tease me as much as you want, Kenzi. I love it. Just be sure you're okay with me taking it."

"I am."

This unfamiliar side of him is deeply appealing to me, stirring desires in me that I've never felt before. Usually, I pretty much know exactly what Tor will say, and how he'll act. I know him like I know myself, and it's comforting and familiar. And while that part of him is still here as a safety net of sorts, this darker, sensual side is pulling me in like a magnet. The tinge of unknown lurking in him is exhilarating.

He leans against the wall next to the front door and tugs on my hand, pulling me to him. He's watching my eyes and my breathing, gauging my reaction to him, probably expecting me to be nervous but hoping my want for him overrides my anxiety.

It does.

"I'm not sure what smells better...your perfume or dinner." He murmurs, leaning down to kiss my neck. I wonder if we're ever going to move past the front door or if we're going to stay right here. He seems content here and in no rush to go anywhere else, and I'm okay with that, too.

I laugh lightly. "I think it's definitely dinner. Are you hungry?"

His mouth opens against the hollow of my throat, sucking lightly. My fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt and my eyes flutter closed.

"I'm starving," he nips at my collarbone. "I'm just not sure what I want to eat first."

Wetness pools between my thighs as I clutch the roses in one hand and his shirt in the other, swaying into him, seeking out his mouth with mine, craving more. He delivers, his kisses rough and demanding, teasing me to kiss him back with just as much fervor.

"Tor..." I pull away from him after a few heated minutes and try to catch my breath. "I don't want your dinner to be ruined."

He lets out a groan but smiles. "You're right. It smells awesome. Just don't forget where we were."

As if.

"That would be impossible."

After he quickly washes up, he puts the roses in a vase and sets the table while I arrange the food on serving dishes like Aunt Katherine taught me, and I think she would be very proud of my presentation of meat and vegetables.

We slip into comfortable conversation while we eat and chat about our weekend. We laugh at Diogee and Kitten who have perched themselves right next to the table, their big eyes pleading for food, and Tor tells them there is no way in hell he's letting them have any of the best meal he's ever eaten because he's eating every single crumb himself.

And he did.

I half expected him to lick his plate when he was done; he made such a fuss over how perfect the filet was cooked and the flavor of the green beans from the subtle spices I simmered them in. Of course I'm hanging on every compliment, beaming inside. It's his smile that really does me in, though, because Tor doesn't often share a smile that lights up his face and reaches his eyes, turning the blackish brown to a light hazelnut. He grins a lot. He smirks a lot. But a real smile that erupts from his soul is a gift, and he's given me many tonight.

We take Diogee for a walk in the woods behind his house after dinner, holding hands as we walk along the dirt path, working off some of the meal we just ate to make room for dessert.

"Let's talk," he says when we return to the house, and he leads me to the couch after he takes the dogs leash off. I follow him with nervous anticipation and sit next to him, turning my body to face him. He rests his hand on my leg and stares at the floor for a moment before looking back at me.

"Today was nice," He says. "Like, beyond nice."

"I think so, too."

I can see him biting the inside of his cheek, something he does when he's nervous or mad, to stop himself from speaking before he's ready to.

"I don't know what to say," He finally admits quietly.

"Oh." I meant to just think the word, but it seeped out of my mouth with its tonal mix of part disappointment, part surprise, and part sadness.

"I'm usually good with words, Kenz. But you make me a fuckin' mess."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." He recedes back into his quiet mode, staring at the floor.

"Maybe I should go," I say softly.

He grabs onto my hand. "No, don't go."

"We don't have to talk, Tor. You don't owe me any kind of answer or explanation. I'm just as confused as you are."

"No...we do have to talk. We can't go into this just blind. You know how I feel about relationships and sex, it's not a game."

"It isn't for me either. I hope you know that?"

"I do, but I also want to make sure you're with me because you really want to, not just to go along with what I want. I can't stand the thought of you or anyone else thinking I used the fact that I'm older than you to coerce you or something."

My eyes bug out at him. "Are you serious right now?"

"Fuck yeah, I am."

"I'm my own person, Tor. You didn't coerce me. I'm not even sure I know what that means in this context, to be honest."

"It means to force, or intimidate."

"No. Actually, I think I pursued you more than you pursued me."

He lets out a big sigh. "Let’s not even talk about that part."

I cross my arms across my chest. "There was no coercion. Or games. Or hypnosis. Or voodoo dolls," I say. "There was just me falling for you all on my own and making wishes on a shit ton of pennies."

That gets him to smile again. "You're so fuckin' adorable."

"So are you."

I think he actually blushes. "You're the only person I'd ever let get away with calling me cute and adorable, ya know."