“Sprinkle me.”
I wake up with a smile, rolling over to scream into my pillow. Wow. Yes. I can do this again. I can get through this terrible day, knowing what awaits me at the end if I play my cards right.
I can’t get over the idea that he would pick me, me. I never would have imagined.
My mind runs over our every interaction, from our first meeting to every conversation and nuanced look, every subtle touch . . . all things I ignored because it was so farfetched. Then the moment together in the closet that wasn’t. I just knew he took off because I was awkward and ridiculous. But I was wrong. I was so sure he had me removed from his team because he was uncomfortable around me. But I read the situation completely wrong.
Maybe my luck is changing. Maybe things will be different now.
“Jane, you just don’t fit.”
Then again, maybe not.
Okay, so not everything will be different, but being fired hurts a whole lot less knowing I get to make out with Alex later.
It’s hard to play it cool around him. Not that I’ve ever played anything cool in my life. I can’t stop grinning when I see him after my latest firing.
“I got fired!” I’ve never been so happy to admit to failure in my life.
A surprised laugh. “Is that a good thing?”
“Oh.” I force my smile down. I can’t let him know I’m happy, what if he doesn’t invite me to the show? “It’s terrible. I’m not happy.”
“You’re not?”
“I’m very depressed.” I suck at subterfuge.
“Well, since you clearly need cheering up, you could come check out my band? We’re opening at the Saloon. I’ll buy you a drink.”
Cool. Play it cool, Jane. “Yes.”
His brows lift. “Yes? It’s that easy.”
I laugh, unable to stop the bubble of joy careening through me. I want to kiss him again. Now. But what if I make it mega weird and he changes his mind?
My smile droops.
He’s going to think I’ve lost my mind.
“I’ll see you later.” I run away before I can do something stupid like throw myself at him and ruin the only good thing that happens on this godforsaken Monday.
“I wish you had said something to me before.” Before today. Then maybe we would have had a chance to go on that first date. Instead, I’m destined to stand here, outside of the Saloon every night, listening to Alex apologize for moving me from his team over and over again before we can get to the good stuff. Not that I’m complaining.
He rubs his chin. “I thought you were with Mark. And honestly, I thought you knew.”
“How could I have known?”
“I thought you’d notice that I’ve been showing up at Blue Wave even when I don’t need anything.”
My brows lift. “You have?”
“Well. Yeah. At this point, everything could be handled with a phone call or delivered by a courier.” He shakes his head. “Do you have any other clients hanging around post-production three times a week?”
I laugh. “I guess not. I never really thought about it.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t notice. I thought I was so obvious.”
It’s pure greed inducing me to ask. “You came in just to see me?” The thought makes me all fluttery. I still can’t believe it.
“Is that so surprising?”
I nod. “Yes. Actually. It is.”
“Why?” His brow furrows.
“I’m me and you’re you.”
He shakes his head. “You need to give yourself more credit.”
“I guess.”
He steps toward me, his hands coming up to my face. “Now that we’re on the same page, if I were to, say, ask you to dinner sometime or something, you would say . . . ?”
I grin. “Yes. Of course, yes.”
He steps closer again.
And it’s just as breathtaking as before.
He kisses me like he’s been waiting to kiss me for months. It’s tentative at first, slow and savoring. His hand comes up to my jaw, tilting my head just so, and then the kiss morphs from sweet and sensual to an exploratory seduction. His tongue slides against mine and a blast of burning desire surges through me.
I wrap my arms around him, tugging him against me, needing to be closer, persuading him with tongue and lips and teeth.
The whistle sounds again.
We break apart, the group of laughing people walking around us. Alex tugs me back against him, his head resting against mine.
“Wow.” The word is a tickle on my lips and we take a minute to catch our breath. “So. Dinner? Tomorrow?”
My hands clench around his waist. “Yes. Tomorrow.”
“Wow.” He pulls back to rest his forehead against mine while we catch our breath. “You’re really good at this.”
“Uh-huh. Don’t stop.” I pull him back into me.
“Jane.” His eyes search mine. “I have to tell you something, and I really hope you won’t hate me.”
“Alex. I know.” I step into him.
“Jane, I—”
“Yes. Same. I get it. I like you too. Please kiss me.”
Every night, we kiss. And kiss and kiss. And it’s never enough. I’m constantly starved for more. More of him. More of his mouth on mine, his hands skimming my waist, being able to touch him anywhere. Well. Almost anywhere.
I press myself against him, and he slows us down to gentle pecks and touches and then breaks us apart to ask me to dinner.
And after three weeks, or more, I don’t know, time is starting to slip away, the anticipation and discovery and inferno of desire are turning into . . . desperation.
Every night I get hot and bothered and every night, Alex wants to take me to dinner. Tomorrow. Dinner. Tomorrow.
Tomorrow doesn’t exist!
I’m so horny, I can’t sleep. Eating becomes an erotic event. My eyelashes are turned on.
I wake up wanting him. All day needing him. Every night with him and still, we kiss.
I want him more than I thought was physically possible, and I know he isn’t immune, I’ve felt the proof of his arousal up close and personal. But for him, it’s always the first kiss. And when I even try to push the boundaries, I get shut down. Understandably. We haven’t even dated and Alex is . . . Alex. He wants to wait because he cares. I can’t fault him for that.
Self-induced orgasms help at first, but it’s not the same.
Alex is a gentleman in the truest sense of the word, and it’s one of the things that makes him so attractive. I don’t want him to change, but at the same time . . .
He wants to take me to dinner. He wants to woo me. He thinks we have the potential for something special and we can’t ruin it.
But I think I might incinerate from the inside out if we don’t push it to the next level.
“So. Dinner? Tomorrow.”
I grit my teeth together.
Tomorrow. Everything is always tomorrow. I hate tomorrow!
I take a deep, calming breath. Love. I need to get through this with love. I need to take control of myself. Not everything is about sex. I need to remember why I liked Alex in the first place, and it’s not just because of his clever tongue and strong hands and leanly muscled physique.
Wait a minute. “Why don’t we go now?” My voice is more clipped and forceful than I intended it to be.
His brows lift. “You want to go to dinner now?”
“Sure, why not? A lot of places are open this late.” Plenty of people eat dinner late at night. People who work late, drunks, swing-shift workers, and lusty women stuck in time loops. There are no rules.
He shrugs. “I’m not hungry.”
“You don’t have to eat. Or we could get dessert. Or you could watch me eat.” Because that’s not weird.
He rubs my arms. “Jane, are you all right?”
“I need sustenance. Hunger is making me loopy.” Ha. Loopy. Interesting word choice. And it fits. If I was one of the seven dwarfs, that would be my name. I shove away the ridiculous thought. Can constant arousal make you senseless?
“Well, then. Let’s go eat.”