Her feet skidded to a halt and she tugged him to a stop. When pale brown eyes drifted down to hers, she placed her hand on his chest in a movement that felt natural and yet also far too intimate. But when she made as though to pull back, he placed his palm over her fingers, pressed lightly to keep her hand there.
Her pulse fluttered, but she forced herself to say, “Explain.”
The ghost of a smile. “About the chicken?”
She huffed. “Obviously.”
“I’ll tell you as we walk,” he said, urging her forward.
Narrowing her eyes in mock-warning, she started moving again. “You’d better. What’s the temperamental chicken’s name?”
“Barry.”
Her feet threatened to stop again, but his arm just tightened, hand coaxing her forward. “Tut. Tut. No stopping. My woman is cold.”
Another shiver, this one caused not by her brain and its fantasies, but by the notes of heat beneath that phrase my woman. In another world. In her dreams. In a fake lie that . . .
“Well, my man doesn’t give orders,” she countered.
He burst out laughing. “Maybe more accurate would be to say that my woman doesn’t listen to orders.”
She chuckled. “That would be the truth.”
“So, you want to hear about Barry the Chicken?”
“That may be my favorite question that anyone has ever asked me.”
He snorted. “Is that a yes?”
Her fingers tightened on his chest, pressing against his skin, feeling the steady thrum-thrum of his heart beneath. “That’s a yes.” She grinned up at him, rising on tiptoe, wanting to see his face clearly when he told her the story. Except, she miscalculated and lost her balance, falling against him, her breasts pressed to his chest.
She gasped, nipples hardening, fingers clenching. “Jaime—”
In a move so quick that she could barely process it, she suddenly found her back pressed against the cool stucco of the building they were walking next to. He’d slid an arm behind her back, cushioning her against the hardness of the wall, and his body was pressed to hers, so hot, so hard, surrounding her, overwhelming her, making her head spin, her nipples ache, her thighs quiver.
“I want to kiss you.”
It wasn’t phrased as a question, but rather a statement. As thus, it took her a moment to process his words, especially with him all warm and hard against her.
“Okay,” she whispered.
His mouth was on hers.
No hesitation. No long, slow descent.
One second she was pushing the assent out of her lips, the next, his tongue was in her mouth, stroking along hers, his free hand on her cheek, angling her head so he could taste her properly.
It was a whirlwind, that kiss.
Not gentle or teasing. Not like a typical first date peck.
This was domination. This surrounded her, took her over, filled her with fire that threatened to incinerate her from the inside out.
Then it was done.
He shifted back minutely, slid the hand on her face down her arm, her side, resting it on her hip. But he kept his body against hers, and the feel of him was enough to take her breath away. “Want to hear about Barry the Chicken?”
Her fingers were in his hair, mussing the neatly organized locks when they clenched at the husky question. “No.”
One eyebrow lifted. “No?”
Kate rose onto her tiptoes. “No,” she murmured. “I’d rather kiss you.”
And then she put words to action.
Luckily, Jaime didn’t seem to mind.
Five
Jaime
It had been a spectacular first date.
And he’d been engaged for the entirety of it.
Snorting, he made a few notes in the computer and thought of the snap he’d sent to Kate a few hours earlier, beyond glad he’d managed to finagle her number from her.
Well, in all honesty, it was less finagling and more common sense.
Fiancés had their future wives’ numbers.
Simple as that.
Except . . . nothing was simple when it came to this woman and the depth of feeling he had for her after one dinner and a short walk. Maybe it was all the social media stalking, or maybe it was just her, just the realization and fleshing out of that feeling he’d had upon seeing that first picture.
The notion deep inside that this woman was more than just a face in a photograph.
Now he had a chance to prove that to himself . . . or maybe to her . . . or the universe, her parents, her siblings, and friends.
Long ass list, that was.
But the thought of lying to everyone important to her, and the unease it caused, had slipped way to the back of his brain. Because when he was in her presence, the only important thing was getting closer, unearthing all the little—and big, he supposed—things that made Kate, Kate.
Like the GIF and chain of emojis she’d replied with after he’d sent her a picture of him and Barry.
He’d never actually seen that many emojis in a row and had spent a good amount of time going one by one before he’d been able to translate the gist of the message.
And when he’d texted back
Please spare the old man so many emojis. It took me way too long to figure that out.
She’d simply replied with another chain of the tiny pictures. Though at least he’d been able to deduce the meaning of the hearts and kissing face emoji and had replied with
I like kissing you, too.
Long minutes had passed before he’d seen actual words.
You really don’t use emojis.
Is this an emoji? :)
A beat
Nope.
Then. Nope, I guess I don’t.
Hmm.
Do I need to read up on emoji etiquette?
Only if you want to understand my messages.
He’d laughed out loud at that but then had needed to slip his cell into his pocket and get down to work, otherwise he wouldn’t have a hope in hell of getting out of the clinic on time.
Jaime had focused on getting through his patients, on returning calls and following up on lab work, but when he was on lunch break, he’d downloaded an Emojis for Dummies Guidebook, screenshotting the cover and sending it to Kate, along with a message.
Prepping for my crash course.
She’d replied almost instantly.
Smart. *thinking emoji*
(see, he’d already learned something)
Then
You said, you’re an old man. How old exactly? I may need to rethink my plan.
Snorting, he shoved a bite of salad into his mouth and typed back.
Thirty-two. Birthday is August 2nd. You?
A long, long silence.
Don’t you know that’s an impolite question?
Don’t you know that fiancés know these things? *sad eye emoji*
And okay, now he saw that the tiny and weird little pictures might truly be worthwhile, especially when her reply came through.