A simple first kiss shifted course when she moaned and opened for more. This kiss zinged right past his head, down to his toes . . . oh, it stopped in the middle and made his jeans tight, but he expected that.
It was hard to keep the kiss simple, impossible to pull away. Had they managed a conversation in the hotel that first night at the bar in Miami and ended up like this, maybe he’d already know what it felt like to be inside her. Simple affairs with nameless women were an enjoyable heartless release. The woman in his arms now didn’t fit that bill. He knew her too well to place her in that category.
Her hand slid down his waist, over his hip.
Walt pulled his lips away. “You’re making it hard to be a gentleman.”
She didn’t remove her hand as her smoky eyes mixed with her sexy voice. “You make it hard to be a lady.”
He kissed her again . . . open-mouthed, indecent kisses.
Walt heard her purse hit the pavement before her arms slid over his shoulders.
Four words . . . four words and they could finish this.
Can I come in? He’d said them before, knew without any doubt he’d say them again . . .
Walt captured her head in his hands, enjoyed the way she pressed against him.
She pulled away, breathless. “I want to invite you in . . .” It wasn’t an invitation, but an admission.
“I’d want to accept that invitation . . .”
She leaned her forehead on his chest and took a deep breath.
Walt pulled her close and simply held her.
Mary ran over early the next morning, letting herself in as she had for the past two years. “He didn’t stay the night?”
Dakota looked up from her coffee and frowned. “Do you ever knock?”
Mary moved to the coffeepot, grabbed a cup, and made herself at home.
“We spent time in the back of a squad car together . . . nothing says a bond that never needs to knock again like that.” Mary shoved into an empty chair at the kitchen table and huddled over her black coffee. “How did it go?”
“We went bowling.”
Mary blinked.
“I know, right . . . bowling!”
“So it sucked.”
“No. It was awesome. Totally kicked back . . . couple of drinks, pizza.”
“And bowling.” Mary didn’t sound convinced.
“We knocked over a few pins. Did we finish a game?” Dakota glanced at the ceiling as if it held the answers. “No. We left on the eighth frame.”
“You didn’t finish the game?”
“We were too busy talking. His parents suck, kinda like mine. Loves being a doctor, loves the flexibility of the ER. He lives in an apartment.”
A look of horror passed over Mary’s face. “Why? He must make money.”
“Doesn’t want the commitment of a mortgage, home repairs. I don’t know.”
Mary’s shoulders slumped. “Commitment phobic. I see . . . that’s why he didn’t stay over.”
Dakota sipped her coffee. “A night in the sack isn’t a commitment, Mary. It’s sex. Besides, neither of us pushed.”
“Sloppy kisser?”
“Amazing kisser . . . knock you out of the universe kisser. I took notes.”
“Wow. But you didn’t sleep with him.”
“You make me sound like a slut.”
Mary lifted an eyebrow.
“Oh, God, will I ever live Vegas down? That was almost two years ago and it happened once.”
“You didn’t get his name.”
“He didn’t get mine either.”
Mary drank her coffee. “You’re a woman . . . a woman should have the name of the man she’s sleeping with.”
“There wasn’t any sleeping, Mary. I guarantee it. Either way, it was once and neither of us wanted to repeat it. I’ve been very selective since.”
“Mason?”
“That’s low. I liked Mason.” The bastard was married. Married! They dated a few times and when they moved to the next level, he stayed over once. Then his wife called. Dakota had no idea there was a Mrs.
Bastard.
“Steve.”
“I didn’t sleep with Steve.”
“That’s right . . . sloppy kisser,” Mary reminded herself.
“Let’s not forget his lisp when he was excited.”
Mary started to laugh and before either of them could sip more coffee, they were both bent over and mimicking Steve’s lisp. Poor sloppy-kissing guy that he was.
“So if Walt’s an amazing kisser, not married, and is void of a lisp . . . why are we having coffee this morning?” Mary waved an index finger between the two of them.
“I don’t know . . . it just wasn’t right. I mean, I think we’ll be amazing . . . but it’s too soon.”
Mary sighed and her shoulders slumped while a silly smile crept onto her face. “Oh, Dakota . . . you really like him.”
Dakota had awoken that morning alone, under her down comforter with an incredible feeling of hope inside her chest. Hope that most often fizzled out by a third date. She knew Walt had his own reasons for hesitating. The way he didn’t commit to another date, only a call, made her wonder if he didn’t feel the same way about her kiss as she felt about his. Except he’d seemed on the cusp of asking to come inside. She was only half ticked that he didn’t push.
“You’re a hopeless romantic,” Mary said, as she did after every Dakota date.