Page 91 of A Little Crush
The unease I was hoping to prevent swallows her amusement as she stares at me, her drink forgotten. “Since I’m a…what, Jax?”
“Nothing.” I clear my throat. “We should probably order.”
“No deal.” Reaching for my hand, she keeps me from opening the menu. Her hand looks so small compared to mine. I could pull away with ease. But I won’t. Because I like the way she touches me. The way I feel it everywhere. Hell, it’s like she knows how to reach right into my chest and squeeze.
“Tell me,” she says.
Tearing my attention from her hand, I hold her gaze. “You said you’re a virgin, Rore. And there’s nothing wrong with it. Honestly, I feel bad for even insinuating that being innocent is something to be ashamed of, okay? I was teasing, but it still came out wrong, and that’s on me. I screwed up.”
She tilts her head, watching me but not saying anything. And her silence? It only feeds my regret.
“Rore—”
“I feel like I should make something clear.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“Just because I’m innocent doesn’t mean I want to stay that way.”
Then how the hell does a girl like her still have her v-card if she hasn’t been determined to keep it?
The question sits on the tip of my tongue, but I stop myself from voicing it aloud. Why fuck up twice in less than five minutes? I’m an idiot, but I’m notthatdense.
Even so, it’s like she can read my mind because she explains, “I never found a guy who made me want to be…curious enough to be…scandalous or whatever.” The tip of her tongue plays peekaboo as she wets her lips. “They weren’t you.”
Her words, her expression, the brightening tinge of pink as it spreads along her neck. It all mingles together, making my dick harden and my mind run wild with fantasies. Of me and her and this table. All of it. Add in her lack of experience, and I’m pretty sure I could blow a load in my pants right here. Right now.
“Did I just make things awkward?” she whispers. Her attention drifts around the crowded restaurant as if each and every other customer knows exactly what we’re talking about. “I’m sorry?—”
“Never apologize for telling a guy you’re interested in that they make you curious about your sexuality. Never.”
She licks her lips again but forces herself to nod.
“That’s my girl. Now, let’s order some dinner, because after?” I smirk. “We have a game to play.”
She wasn’t kidding.Clearly, the woman hasn’t played a game of miniature golf in years. Her stance is all wrong, she’s hit the ball completely off the green at least three times, and she insisted we stop keeping score after one too many triple bogeys. Honestly? I’ve never felt happier.
The ease of not keeping score. The lackadaisical response to every screw up. The banter and flirty looks and easy conversation. It’s both familiar and new in a way I can’t even explain. All I know is I like it. I like it a lot.
When we head toward the last hole, a bathroom comes into view and Rory announces, “I need to use the restroom. Give me two seconds.”
“Take your time,” I return.
Waving on two more couples to play through, I pull out my phone to see if Iris felt like sending any photos of our daughter—she didn’t—when a pair of panties drops on my screen. Jerking back, I look up and find Rory grinning at me. The same familiar twitch in my jeans manages to catch me off guard as I grab the underwear, shoving them into my pocket before anyone notices. It doesn’t matter how quickly I try to make the evidence of Rory’s lack of clothing beneath her sundress disappear. I still feel the dampness of her curiosity on my palm.
She was wet. She’s still wet.
I tilt my head. “What are you doing?”
“Being curious.” Clutching her fingers behind her back, she rises onto her tiptoes and waits. The combination somehow manages to make her look even more tempting and innocent than before as her breasts strain against the thin cotton of her dress. “Is that a problem, Mr. Thorne?”
“Rory…” I look around the crowded course, then back to the woman in front of me. She’s seriously testing my self-control, and if I’m not careful, I just might out our…whatever this is to everyone in the vicinity before we’ve even had a chance to thoroughly test the waters. The question is, how do I play this? How does she want me to play this?
As if she can read my questioning gaze, she adds, “Just to be clear. There’s only one right answer. If you give me the wrong one, I'll run out of this place, call a cab, and never talk to you again.”
Yeah, like my restraint has anything to do with me not wanting her. The idea alone is laughable. She’s gorgeous. Sweet. And ripe for the picking.
Shifting closer, I murmur, “The path on the other side of this hole leads to an abandoned ice cream stand where we might be able find some?—”
