Page 6 of Hot Summer Nights

She giggled and looked down. “Is it that bad?”

Channing pulled her against his body and claimed her mouth with his. Nervousness faded as she finally surrendered and kissed him back. She’d been anxious about his reaction to her new look, but evidently, the bobbed, shoulder-length cut gained more than his approval … and everyone else’s for that matter.

Why does it matter what he thinks? I’ve only known him for one day. Nagging thoughts lingered in her mind and a sense of reality started to edge its way in. I’ve also fucked him twice within those twenty-four hours. So what’s that say about me? She pushed the thoughts aside. It mattered because she liked him, and she wanted him to like her. And even though they’d only known each other for a short while and had fucked twice, they were going to do it again … and again, if she had any say about it.

Channing pulled away first and simply stared down into her eyes. His thumb lingered on her lower lip, brushing lightly. “I requested a table outside for us. There are less people, and it’s more intimate.”

Brooklyn let him lead her to the back of the restaurant. A table for two had been set away from the main crowd and faced the sea. A single red rose gave color to the otherwise white place setting. Channing pulled out a seat and offered it to her before taking his own on the other side of the table.

“I don’t know what you like, but nearly everything here is delicious.”

Brooklyn glanced at the menu. “Salmon looks good. I’ll have that and iced tea.”

“No alcohol?”

She shook her head. “My father was an alcoholic. I chose a long time ago to never touch the stuff.”

The waiter came to take their orders for both the food and drinks. Channing had fresh salmon with a beer while Brooklyn had the same with iced tea instead. The first date jitters crept up on her again as she waited for the waiter to leave. What should she say? What did they have in common?

“You look tense.” He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “I don’t bite … unless you want me to.” A wicked gleam glimmered in his eyes.

She shook her head smiling. “First date jitters.”

“Technically this isn’t a date.” He turned her hand over and started stroking her palm with his thumb. “This is strictly just dinner.”

“Oh.” Disappointment filled her. Perhaps she read him wrong. What was she thinking of making more out of sex than what was really there? He liked her body. And she was okay with that … yesterday.

“You look disappointed.” His thumb worked its way to her wrist.

“No. Uh … maybe a little. I just thought this was a date.” She bit her lip, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. So high school, Brooklyn. “Well, you can obviously tell I’m a little rusty at this.”

She tried making fun of herself, but it didn’t help the embarrassment. So I don’t date and have sex. What was the big deal?

Channing wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tugged. Wordlessly, she went to him and sat in his lap.

“You’re not rusty at this,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear. “This is dinner for a starving man and a beautiful woman. Afterward, at your place, is when the ‘date’ begins.”

Brooklyn swallowed, her stomach fluttering. He had a way of saying things that made her body respond instantly to his words. Sitting on his lap, she felt his cock pressing against her. Channing glanced down at her breasts, one hand sliding up her thigh, beneath her dress, and then back down again in a light caress. He had to know she was hot for him. He had to know the effect he had on her body. Brooklyn shifted and slightly parted her legs.

“Do you want to play a little game?” she asked.

His interest caught, he nodded.

“The rules of the game are: You must answer my question by asking questions of your own to gain clues to the answer.”

“What’s the question?” Channing’s hand started to slide up her leg again, and she stopped him with her hand.

Pushing it gently off her leg she stood and returned to her seat. “What color panties am I wearing?”

Brooklyn crossed her legs intentionally, brushing her foot against his calf. She waited for his questions, but Channing simply stared into her eyes, not saying one word. An intense expression crossed his face as if he was really thinking about the question.

“Come on. It’s not rocket science. Start asking questions to get the answer.” Brooklyn smiled at the waiter who brought them their drinks then left again.

“Okay.” Channing leaned forward, propping his arms on the table. “Are they the same pair you put on this morning?”

Her smile widened. “What’s that have to do with color?”

He shrugged and popped the top of his beer bottle. “Answer the question.”

---