Page 95 of Better Hate than Never

“I don’t mind if you see straight to my belly button.”

“Imind,” he says darkly.

“Are you two coming?” Mom calls from the dining room.

I smile and shrug. “I’m happy in my sweater, so you’re stuck with it. Now, come on. I’m starving.”

“I’m starving, too,” he grumbles as I gather the salad bowl and tongs, then head for the dining room. “And it sure as hell isn’t for potato soup.”

•TWENTY-EIGHT•

Christopher

Dinner lasts a lifetime. And it doesn’t last nearly long enough. Because I’m just as desperate for Kate as I’m terrified of what I’m about to do—try something I’ve never done before, something I’ve actively avoided my entire adult life: brutal honesty, naked intimacy.

Emphasis on naked.

It’s taking superhero strength not to think about every erotic thing I want to do with her after this, when I’m sitting between her parents at their dinner table.

A rush of something primal and possessive burns through me as I watch her laugh at a wisecrack her dad tosses into the conversation. Her cheeks are pink from the warmth of the room, her dimples deep, her hair an upswept swirl of chestnut and auburn that I ache to undo and watch spill down her back.

My hands curl into fists beneath the table.

Goddamn that sweater wrapped around her the way I want to be, kissing her collarbones, gliding over the slight swells of her breasts, hugging her waist. I see exactly where my hands belong, stroking her nipples, sweeping down her ribs to her hips.

My teeth grind as my cock helplessly hardens, thick and angry in my jeans. I’m in agony.

“Christopher?” Maureen’s voice earns my attention.

“Hmm?”

She tips her head. “You seem distracted. Everything all right?”

Kate picks up her water glass and lifts her eyebrows.

I stare at Kate, struggling not to broadcast in my expression how fiercely I want her, how good it feels to have told her the truth in the kitchen, to know she believes me. I still can’t really believe that she’s letting me sweep her away after this, that soon I’ll have the satisfaction of taking my sweet time with her instead of our frantic chaos last night, incredible though it was. I stare at her and can’t make myself stop picturing how slowly I’ll strip away her clothes and kiss her everywhere except where she wants. How I’ll work her up until she’s begging for my mouth, my cock, my hands, to give her relief.

“Christopher?” Maureen says again.

I blink, a rare rush of heat hitting my cheeks. I can’t believe where my mind went, when her parents are sitting right here.

“Sorry.” I shake my head a little and have a sip of my wine. I don’t taste it at all. “I’m fine, yes.”

Kate lifts a spoonful of chocolate mousse to her mouth and slowly slides it past her lips, hollowing her mouth when she does. Her mouth parts and her tongue flicks the tip of the spoon.

I put a fist in front of my mouth and breathe deeply. I’m going to die.

Kate tips her head, then leans in, which presses her breasts together. By some superhero strength, I manage not to look at them. “I’m ready to go if you are,” she says.

The final thread of my restraint snaps. I stand abruptly, sending my chair scraping back, then pick up my plate and bowl to hide how physically in hell I am. “Yes. I’m ready. Thank you for dinner,” I tell Maureen and Bill.

“Of course, dear,” Maureen says, smiling up at me.

“Don’t worry about the dishes,” Bill tells us as Kate and I gather up our plates and silverware. “Go on and have your fun.”

“We can throw them in the dishwasher,” Kate says. “It’ll take ten seconds.”

I’m already ahead of her, storming into the kitchen, rinsing my plate, bowl, and silverware under the water, then setting them in the dishwasher.

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