Unable to resist a second longer, he closed the short distance between them, cupped her face with his hands, and kissed her until every muscle in his body ached with the need to have her. In hindsight, it wasn’t the brightest idea in the world, because now he’d have to take his shower cold.
When he finally came up for air, he gently touched his forehead to hers. “Last night was the best night of my life. I wish I could stay and do it all over again, but I’ve got to go to work.”
“I understand,” she said. “I don’t like it, but I understand.”
That was all well and good, but having her so close—and naked—was doing a number on his self-control. If he didn’t leave soon, he wouldn’t leave at all, and he needed this job to keep a roof over his head.
Still, there was one more thing he needed to address before he could walk away. “I want this—us—to be real, Fi. No more playing. No more pretending. Are you on board with that?”
“What about your dating moratorium?” she asked.
“It was never meant to be permanent.” He grinned to mask his nerves. If she turned him down, this was going to be the longest, suckiest day at work ever. “You make me feel things that I haven’t felt in a really long time. And I’m not just saying this because we had sex, though the sex was out of this world. I think we’re at the beginning of something great, and I’m dying to see where it takes us. Are you with me?”
She stared at him for what seemed like forever, and it felt as though his heart was in his throat. Then she blinked, and a smile warmed her face, and his entire world shifted on its axis.
“Yes.”
Halle-frigging-lujah.He kissed her again, because why the hell not? If he skipped the shave and ate breakfast in the shower, he might still make it to work on time. And if he was late, he’d take the ass chewing with a stupid grin on his face.
“I should be home around six thirty, seven tops.” Probably closer to seven, because he was stopping at the store for condoms. Lots and lots of condoms. “Why don’t you come by my place around eight? I’ve got some friends coming over for a holiday get-together. You’ll like them, I promise.”
“Are you sure?” Insecurity flickered over her face. “I don’t want to intrude.”
Pinto scoffed. “You’d never be an intrusion, Fi. Come meet the gang. It’ll be fun. There’s going to be food, and drinks, and you’ll get to experience my third favorite way to relax.”
“Only the third?” She arched one eyebrow. “Dare I ask what the other two are?”
“Number two is pizza and a cold beer while watching the Devils play on home ice.” He pitched his voice lower. “I don’t think I need to tell you what’s in the number-one spot.”
A blush flooded her cheeks. “You did seem rather relaxed last night.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” After one last kiss, he moved back a step before his hormones hijacked his brain. “So what do you say? See you at eight?”
She nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Fionacheckedherreflectionin the mirror one more time, torn over whether her shirt made her look festive or like a dork.
First impressions were everything, and she wanted to start out on the right foot with Joe’s friends. She’d gone with black slacks and a forest-green shirt with the words “Let’s Get Lit” framed by holiday lights on the front. A gift from Liz a few years ago, it was cheerful but not sickeningly sweet, and she hoped it would set the right tone.
After one last swipe of mascara, she slipped on her favorite pair of low-heeled black boots and made sure Wanda’s bowls were full. Wine bottle in hand, she went downstairs, where she noticed a man and woman walking toward Joe’s apartment. The guy was enormous, well over six feet, with a muscular frame and tattoos adorning much of the dark skin on his arms. He wore cargo pants and a plain white tee with the sleeves pushed up past his elbows. The fluorescent hall light glinted off his shaved head. A case of beer rested under one arm.
Slender yet athletic, the woman was stunning, dressed in all black with her long, brown hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. Her skin was fair, her makeup subtly applied to bring out the best of her well-defined features. A grocery store bag loaded with assorted snacks hung from her right hand.
The man smiled at her as she reached the landing.
“Good evening. You must be Fiona,” he said, his baritone smoother than silk.
It was a statement rather than a question, and it caught her completely off guard. “Yes, and you are?”
“I’m Jackson, and this is my lovely wife Essie. It’s nice to finally have a face to go with the name.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she went with an awkward wave and a simple, “It’s nice to meet you.”
Before anyone could knock, the apartment door opened, and Joe greeted them with a smile that lit the depths of his eyes and sent warm tingles through her. The dark jeans he wore were faded at the stress points, while his red Henley shirt hugged his torso. His gaze caught hers, and the tingles ratcheted up a notch.
“Hey, you made it. I wasn’t sure you’d survive the long journey from up north.”
She laughed. “It was tough, but I somehow managed. I even remembered the wine, though I’m not sure we’ll actually need it.”
