Page 120 of Salvage Him
"What do you feel like?" heasked.
"Mexican."
"You are turning into a Texan." Helaughed.
I spotted my clothes folded on thetable.
"I think I need to go home and change. I don't think sequined boy shorts are appropriate Tex-Mexattire."
"You'd be surprised." Harrison stood up. "I'll get dressed, and we'll stop by your place, and you can grab some stuff to stash here. You know. Just in case you find yourself stuck here for a day or two atatime."
"You're not going to let me go easy, are you?" I asked, but I knew theanswer.
He stopped in the middle of the floor andturned.
"Never."
We parkedin the garage at my place and rode the elevator straight up to my floor. I excused myself and left Harrison in the living room as I changed into a white tank top, a black sheer button-down shirt and blackleggings.
I hurried to pack a bag with more essentials to leave at hisplace.
He seemed uncomfortable in theapartment.
"Hey." I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my head between his shoulderblades.
"You like this place?" He laced his fingerswithmine.
I breathed him in, loving his scent. It was so demanding if a scent could bedemanding.
"Not really." I squeezed him. "I've lived in high rises all my life. Ranging from two rooms in a run-down building to this eight-room monstrosity. It all feels the same. Notquitemine."
He turned in my arms, bent over, and liftedmeup.
I wrapped my legs around hiswaist.
He held me, kissed me, and pressed his tongue into my mouth. He carried me towardthedoor.
He grabbed my bag and carried me downthehall.
We made it back down the elevator and into his SUV without seeinganothersoul.
We enjoyedour first night out, our first date. Harrison took me to a restaurant in Uptown. We sat outside, enjoying the last of the comfortable weather in Dallas before the heat of the summer set in. We drank margaritas, and I stuffed myself on chips andqueso.
He showed me how to properly roll a fajita, and we laughed and joked around. We made a great effort to put the rest of real life on the back burner for awhile.
When we returned to his place, Harrison pulled up tothecurb.
“The code to get in is four, three, eight, seven. I need to take care of something. I'll be back in thirty minutes. When I get back, I want you kneeling in the middle of the bed"—his eyes gleamed—"wearingnothing."
I leaned in and kissed his lips and whispered, "Yes,Sir."
