Page 11 of Last First Date
“Knock it off, Abernathy.” Ugh. It’s like she can hear all the filthy thoughts circling around in my brain.
“Do you really believe that I’m some sort of womanizer?” My lips curl up at the word. I can’t decide whether I’m flattered or offended by my supposed reputation. Probably both.
“Well, you do date around among a certain group of women.” She pauses, looks down. “The moneyed kind.”
I shrug and wait for whatever is coming next. What she’s saying isn’t particularly accurate, but I am curious as to where she’s going with this train of thought.
Darcy Albrecht is a puzzle that I want to figure out, and if I need to play along with her ideas about who I am in order to get to know her better, then I’m definitely willing. Eager even, if there’s even a slim chance that we’re still talking about the two of us kissing.
She’s wriggling the toe of her work shoe against the ground, tracing some pattern there. She hasn’t met my eyes since she looked down. Time to change that.
“Yes?” I reach for her and raise her face to mine. Then I ever so gently take my thumb and free her bottom lip from between her teeth.
We’re definitely in dangerous territory now, but her skin is just as soft as I’d imagined. She feels so good against my hand. I can’t help but think about how the rest of her would feel too.
My breath catches in my throat and my mouth goes dry. Her eyes meet mine at last, but I can’t decipher her thoughts from what I see there. Is it heat I see in her eyes, or is that my dick’s overactive imagination?
Her breaths pass across the skin of my thumb, which is still pressing into that little cleft of skin just below her full bottom lip. I never thought the simple act of a woman breathing against the skin of my hand would be enough to make my dick hard, but here we are.
I’m aching and painfully erect for her, and it takes all the self-control she just accused me of not having, to keep from pinning her against the nearest firm surface and showing her exactly what she’s done to me. Every inch of what I want to be doing to her right now.
“I want wooing lessons, Thom.”
Her words hit me like a slap to the face. Well, that definitely sounds like she doesn’t want me to kiss her. Shit.
I lean back a little bit, release my grip on her sweet mouth and then shove my traitorous hand deep into my pocket where it won’t get into any more trouble.
“Wooing lessons?” I can’t help the dirty smile that curls across my mouth. “Is that where I take you home and fuck you as hard as I can until you scream out ‘woo woo’ like you’re the siren on a firetruck?”
She laughs, a small bright sounding noise that does something ridiculous to my insides. Sheesh, what kind of man gets butterflies because he made some hot chick laugh?
I guess this kind of man. Me.
“I’m pretty sure that’s a cop car noise, Thomas.”
I spread my hands out, palms up, giving her a little shrug. “Now, now. Everyone knows you’re not going to come like that with any of the guys on the police force, Darcy.”
She cackles at my shitty joke. “Well, no sexy siren noises. At least not until after the fifth date, Abernathy.” She grins up at me full-force, and I fucking love it.
“Third date, Albrecht. And if you want me to keep it real with you, you probably need to think about at least a little hand over the pants action by mid-date number two if you want to get all the way to pound town on date number three.”
Her nose wrinkles up. “You’re kind of a pig, Abernathy. Did you know that?”
I shrug, flashing her my toothiest billboard smile. “Oink, oink. We can’t all be ladylike and cultured, Miss Albrecht. Somebody has to be the bad guy in those stories that circulate around our town.” I take a pretend sip of tea with my pinkie finger outstretched.
Her lips pinch into a scowl, but her eyes are still alight with mischief. “I mean it though.” She sighs heavily and her entire frame droops a little. “I’m supposed to get Hesse Kotner to come to the gala with me, and I don’t even know how to talk to someone like that.”
At those words, I about fold in half with a burst of bitter laughter. “Seriously, this again? I don’t want to be the one to break this to you, but youaresomeone like that, Darcy. Have you even met your own mother?”
She twists her body off to one side, turning her entire pretty face away from me. “That’s just it. I have met my mother, and I know I’m nothing at all like her. She’s all pearls and twin sets and cashmere and I’m all—” She breaks off and gestures at her uniform and sensible work boots.
I can’t help it. I lick my lips as my eyes trace the perfection of her shape. “Hell yes, you are.”
Her eyes catch mine again, and for just a moment, there’s so much uncertainty in her gaze that I debate again about wrapping my arms around her and kissing the living daylights out of her.
What kind of asshole did a number on Darcy to the point where she’s doubting the complete and total awesomeness of who she is?
She peers at me carefully to make sure I’m not messing with her. “Quit acting like such a pervert.”
