Page 182 of Things We Hide from the Light
I attached a picture of the horse in question and another one of my dented door.
Lina: You better not smell like horse when you pick me up for dinner.
Me: I’ll see if I can squeeze in a shower between now and then. Have you picked out what dress you’re gonna torture me with?
THIRTY-EIGHT
FIRST DATE
Nash
“This is so cliché,” Lina said when she opened her door.
“A first date is not a cliché.” I was glad I got the words out because the second I clocked what she was wearing, my power of speech vanished.
Her red lips pursed in a flirty pout. “It is when you’ve already had sex.”
I needed a minute to catch the breath she’d knocked out of me.
She was wearing a short black dress. The sleeves were long, but the skirt showed off so much leg I wanted to back her up and bend her over the first flat surface I could find just to see what color underwear she was wearing. Her fuck-me stilettos had a crocodile pattern that proudly said “man-eater.” She’d gone heavier on the makeup, adding some kind of smoky bronze to her lids that made her eyes look even bigger and more sinful.
She was beautiful. Confident. And vaguely annoyed that I was taking her to dinner instead of bed.
I was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.
“You shaved,” she said when I remained silent.
I ran my hand over my jaw and grinned. “Thought it would make for a smoother ride.”
Her eyes sparkled wickedly and a pink tinge warmed her cheeks. “I don’t mind it rough,” she reminded me.
“I’ve got the scratches to prove it, Angel,” I teased.
“Why don’t we skip this whole date thing and go straight to testing out that baby-smooth face of yours?” she suggested.
My dick reacted like a puppet with its master at the strings.
“Nice try, baby. But you’re getting the full first date experience.”
“Ugh, fine, but I’d like to point out that society says I’m not supposed to sleep with you on the first date,” she reminded me.
“Since when do you follow the rules?” I teased.
“Only when it suits me.”
Which was exactly why I couldn’t afford to play fair.
I produced the small gift box I’d been hiding behind my back. “Got you something.”
She eyed the box like she might a bomb.
“Go on now. Don’t be scared.”
“Scared?” she scoffed and snatched the box out of my hand.
Her face went soft for a second when she pried open the lid. Then her careful mask slid back into place. She was letting me in, but only in inches, and I wasn’t about to lose any ground.
“I’m not supposed to sleep with you on a first date and you’redefinitelynot supposed to give me jewelry.”
