Man Crush Monday Page 4

  “I love live music too!” Just as I’m about to expand, the waitress comes over, carrying our food. The delicious scent of my tomato pasta wafts up, and my mouth waters, all other thoughts forgotten. I grin down at my plate like it’s the winning lottery numbers.

  “Parmesan?” the waitress offers, one of those twirly grater contraptions in her hand.

  “One of my cardinal rules is to never say no to cheese,” I joke, watching greedily as she grates it over my pasta.

  After a few seconds, she raises one eyebrow, silently asking me if that’s enough. I waggle my finger in a small circle, indicating she should continue. She continues and then, a few seconds later, clears her throat. Reluctantly, I tell her to stop when I can sense that I’ve gone beyond the socially acceptable amount even though I actually wanted the whole damn block on my plate.

  When she leaves, I look over at Jared to see him watching me, his eyes twinkling with amusement in the dim restaurant lights.

  “What? Cheese is life.” I shrug casually, spearing a tube of pasta and thrusting it into my mouth. Flavours explode on my tongue, and I have a hard time containing my moan of pleasure.

  Jared’s gaze is fixated on my mouth, his eyes have gone dark, and his lips part. He clears his throat and shakes his head a little before looking down at his own food.

  Continuing the conversation where we left off, Jared asks, “Favourite musician?”

  “Of all time or current?” I shovel in more pasta as he starts on his chicken.

  “Both.”

  I grin. Easy. “My all-time is Queen.”

  He purses his lips and nods, seeming impressed. “Nice choice. Like it.”

  “And current is James Arthur. His voice does funny things to my body.”

  One of his eyebrows rises. “Lucky voice.”

  I shrug, playing along. “Or lucky body.” I take a couple of seconds to let that sink in. “Who are yours?”

  It had the desired effect; he clears his throat as if coming out of a daze and answers, “Current, probably Post Malone. All-time, The Beatles.”

  I nod and grin. “It’s official; we’re compatible.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  He grins too, and I notice those little crinkles around his eyes again. My fingers long to reach across the table to touch them.

  The flirty banter continues back and forth as we order a slice of vanilla cheesecake to share. Well, the intention is to share, but when it comes, I dig in like a lioness devouring her prey, and he just has a couple of small bites before setting his spoon down. He doesn’t seem bothered though; he just watches me with his eyes all dark and sexy.

  Jared is a little quieter than I thought he would be; he’s more of a listener than a talker. The picture I built of him over the last few months was a larger-than-life guy who chatted with everyone, a happy-go-lucky guy with smiles to spare. But tonight, he seems a little more reserved. It isn’t a bad thing. I actually like the way he seems really into what I’m talking about, how he prompts explanations to some of my answers, delving deeper. Like he is actually interested. It’s nice.

  At the end of the night, after dessert and coffee, we ask for the bill, and I eat his mint chocolate as well as mine. It turns out, he’s not got much of a sweet tooth. Oh well. More for me! He insists on paying. I glow in my seat as the waitress smiles down at him, but he barely notices as he taps his PIN into the machine and takes the offered receipt. He’s all polite nods and words to her, no megawatt smile that I’ve already earned twice tonight.

  Ha! Take that!

  As we step out of the restaurant, it’s pushing eleven o’clock, and the street is practically empty because it’s a Tuesday night, not a weekend. Jared leads me to his car, and again, ever the gentleman, he opens the door for me.

  Once he’s in and started the car, my nerves spike. Will he kiss me? Am I mere minutes away from our first kiss? Now that I’ve thought about it, it’s all that my brain can process. I fiddle with the air con, sending a stream of cool air over me to try and calm my jangled nerves. My skin feels hot, flushed, oversensitive.

  When he pulls up outside my flat, I can barely breathe, and my legs feel a little weak. He cuts the engine and looks over at me, clicking the lock on his seat belt.

  “I’ll walk you up.” He nods to my building and opens his door.

  As he comes to my side, his hand brushes against mine, and I chew on my lip as a wave of desire washes over me. We’re quiet as we ascend the stairs, my mind racing a mile a minute, trying to predict what will happen next. I can’t help but steal little glances at his face.

  He stops outside my door and steps closer to me. “I had a really great time.”

  He looks down at the floor, and it suddenly hits me that he’s nervous. He’s been thinking about this moment too. The kiss.

  My stomach clenches in anticipation. “I did too.”

  I’m unable to contain myself anymore. I reach out and touch his T-shirt, rubbing it between my thumb and finger. I was right; it is smooth like butter. I want to pull him closer to me, press up against him, feel the warmth of him. His smell surrounds me, and it’s the most intoxicating and bewitching smell ever. I’m already addicted. I want it all over me. I want to smother myself in it.

  I blink up at him, fighting my desire to drag him into my flat and maul him to within an inch of his life.

  He swallows, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip. He’s definitely nervous. I like it.

  “Would you like to go out again?” His voice is just above a whisper and comes out scratchy and husky.

  I nod in answer, not having any words.

  “Tomorrow night? We could catch a movie?” he offers.

  “Sounds great.”

  His answering smile is dazzling as his hand comes up to my face. He catches a lock of my hair and gently tucks it behind my ear. His fingers give the tiniest brush against my hypersensitive skin, and it sends my body into the stratosphere. A heavy ache settles between my legs. I’m so turned on by that minuscule touch that I can barely stand still.

  His eyes are latched firmly on my lips as he tilts his head a little and leans down slowly, so slowly that I think the wait might actually kill me. The anticipation builds, and everything else fades away as I go up onto my tiptoes, closing the distance, eager for it.

  When his lips finally press against mine, it is everything I thought it would be and more. His lips are soft against mine, barely moving, controlled. His hands mould over my waist, holding me in place when I wobble on my weak knees. The kiss is all delicate lips, the barest of pressure. It’s like a kiss from a movie. It’s everything you’d want a first kiss to be. Beautiful and perfect for a first date. Memorable.

  When he finally pulls away, I’m a jangled mess of desire. I can’t even think straight. I want more. I need more. I feel like I’m in a daze as I settle back on my heels and look up at him through heavily lidded eyes and a fog of lust.

  He swallows and looks like he’s struggling for control. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He leans down and pecks my lips, just one more tiny, chaste kiss, and then he turns, heading for the stairs.

  My eyes drop to his arse in his jeans, and my desire heightens to impossible levels.

  I want him. I want everything.

  The deviant part of my brain demands we go inside and get hot and sweaty.

  No sex! In the back of my mind, Heather’s words are rattling around. Bait the hook, chum the waters. God, now, I’m doing fishing metaphors!

  But can I really let him leave? That kiss wasn’t nearly enough to tide me over and take the edge off my lust.

  My mouth says it before I can even stop myself, “Jared, wait.”

  He stops, turning to face me, one eyebrow raised in question. I move closer to him. He’s only managed to descend one step, so as I step closer to him, we’re eye to eye, mouth to mouth.

  “I just need a little more than that, so I can replay it later when I’m alone.” My eyes flick to his mouth, and I bite my lip
in need.

  He doesn’t need asking twice. Almost instantly, his hand comes up to my neck, cupping my jaw, tilting my head a little further to give him access, and his mouth covers mine. I gasp against his lips as his other arm wraps securely around my waist, turning me so my back is against the wall as his hard body presses against me, pinning me there. His lips move against mine, and when his teeth scrape against my bottom lip, it’s so sexy that I feel my lust ratchet up another level. I’ve never been so turned on by a kiss.

  I whimper into his mouth and brace my hands against his chest as our tongues slide against each other. He tastes of coffee and the cheesecake we shared earlier. I’ve lost control of my hands now as they skim over his body, exploring the hard, warm skin hidden under his T-shirt. I can feel the bunched-up power of him, the muscles, the tension in his arms and shoulders as he kisses me like this is our last minute on Earth.

  His fingers thread into the back of my hair, and he lets me come up for air. I suck in a ragged breath as his thumb teasingly strokes across my bottom lip before his mouth claims mine again. This kiss is so different from the first. The first was sweet and romantic; this one is more animalistic and out of control. I bloody love it.

  He pulls away too soon. I’m breathless, and my skin is alive with sensation, my insides squirming with the need for more. His forehead presses against mine, and he breathes heavy. My mouth quirks with a smile as I realise he’s just as turned on as I am. That knowledge gives me confidence. It’s empowering.

  “I should go,” he finally says quietly, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, his fingers press into my lower back, forcing us closer.

  As our hips connect and I feel just how aroused he is by the kiss too, he makes a sound in the back of his throat that almost makes me lose my mind. His thumb strokes across my jawline as his eyes meet mine; his pupils are huge, dark, wanting.

  “I should go,” he says again, and it’s more forceful this time. Unfortunately, he means it.

  “Okay.” Reluctantly, I release my grip on his shoulders and lick my lips, tasting him.

  He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he steps back and huffs out a big breath, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he looks me over. I dread to think what I look like—a wanton, horny devil with smudged lipstick and wild, crazy eyes, I’d bet.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.”

  I nod, pushing myself away from the wall. “Okay. Sleep well. Try not to dream about me.”

  His eyes twinkle as he grins—the full-on, mesmerising grin—and it’s almost too much to bear. “I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything.”

  He turns and heads for the stairs again, and this time, I let him go.

  five

  I smile happily, and the girl in the full-length mirror smiles back at me, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. A second date. I’ve been floating on a cloud ever since that kiss last night. Today at work, all my regular passengers kept asking if I’d won the lottery or something because I was in such a happy mood.

  I smooth my hands down over my denim skirt and then straighten my favourite off-the-shoulder cream knit jumper. The straps of my black bra are visible, just teasing at what’s underneath. The girl staring back at me looks confident and sassy. My hair is down again, like last night. It was a planned-out move. Last night, when he’d kissed me, Jared had threaded his hands into the back of my hair, and it was exquisite. I want that again tonight. I’m happy with my look. I feel cute.

  I sigh happily and apply a last sweep of clear lip gloss across my lips, before looking at the clock—6:55. My excitement kicks up another notch. I can’t wait to see him again.

  When my phone beeps with a text, I practically skip over to my bedside unit and scoop it up. It’s him.

  I’m so sorry. I’m running late, and I haven’t even left work yet. Meeting overran, and I couldn’t leave. Sorry! Do you still want to go out? Totally understand if you want to blow me off. Though I hope you don’t …

  Blow him off? Hell no!

  I text him back.

  It’s no problem. I’ll see you when you get here.

  I wait, staring down at my screen, seeing the blinking dots to show he’s typing. I grin in anticipation.

  Excellent. I’m now leaving. Will be there in 15. x

  When he finally arrives, he’s in a navy-blue three-piece suit, paired with a maroon tie and matching pocket square. I quickly decide this is the best I have ever seen him look. It’s so formal and smart, professional and just … edible. I’m wowed.

  “Amy, I’m so sorry I’m late,” he says, frowning, his eyes alight with sincerity.

  I wave one hand and invite him into my flat. His eyes linger on me as I step to the side, his gaze appreciative, and I see a muscle in his jaw flex. I smile inwardly and feel my face flush with pleasure.

  Jared thinks I look cute too.

  Score.

  “You’re a little overdressed for the cinema,” I observe, pursing my lips as I look him over again.

  There’s a subtle black check in the material of his suit that you can only see when you’re this close. I silently wonder how many other people have been this close to him today to see it.

  He groans and nods. “I know. But I didn’t want to make myself any later by going home to change. I hope that’s okay. I’ll leave my jacket and waistcoat and stuff in the car.”

  He tugs on the knot of his tie and unfastens the top button of his white shirt with one hand. After, he works on the buttons of his waistcoat, leaving it hanging loose against his body. I watch, transfixed. Somehow, he looks even sexier now that he’s a little dishevelled.

  I swallow and nod, lost for words. How is it that I get more attracted to the guy every time I see him? It’s not fair.

  When his stomach rumbles loudly, he puts a hand on it and smiles awkwardly. “Sorry. I haven’t had time to eat today. I was in back-to-back meetings all day. Last thing I ate was a protein bar on the way to a ten a.m. conference call.”

  I frown, not liking the idea of him not taking care of himself. “Do you want to go to dinner tonight instead?”

  He shakes his head and slips off his tie, carefully folding it up and pushing it into his jacket pocket. “No, it’s fine. I’ll get popcorn.” But his stomach rumbles again, louder this time.

  My eyes scan over him. He looks exhausted and a little stressed. He’s had a day.

  “I have an idea. Why don’t we order takeaway and watch a movie here instead? There’s probably rubbish on at the cinema anyway.”

  I reach out and run a hand across the lapel of his jacket, feeling how smooth and silky it is. He likely paid a fortune for it.

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah? You don’t mind?”

  “I don’t mind.” I shrug.

  His smile is so grateful that it makes my heart ache. I bite my lip and step closer to him, our chests almost touching, my eyes holding his as I slip my hands inside his jacket, gently easing it over his shoulders, tilting my mouth up towards his in invitation. His breath catches as he dips his head, his lips pressing against mine. I smile against his mouth. He’s been eating the strawberry sweets from his car; I can taste them. The jacket slides down his arms, and he expertly catches it before it hits the floor.

  I pull back a fraction and smile up at him. “Hi,” I breathe.

  He gulps. “If this is the greeting I get every time I’m late, I’m never going to be on time again.”

  I laugh and step back, bending down to unlace my Converse before toeing them off and kicking them into the disorganised pile of discarded shoes I always have next to my door.

  “You can hang your stuff up there.” I motion to the coat hooks mounted on the wall. “I’ll grab my phone and see what we can get delivered. What do you fancy?” I call over my shoulder, heading into the lounge, wincing at how messy my place looks. I should have planned ahead and had a clean-up.

  “Other than you in that skirt?” he play
fully calls back.

  My face fills with heat, and I grin at his compliment as I make a grab for discarded clothes and magazines, sweet wrappers, and empty drink cans. Scooping them up, I shove them into the sideboard, just managing to straighten up as he walks in. I gulp and pick up my phone, faking nonchalance.

  “Pizza?” I offer, opening up the Just Eat app.

  “Sounds good. Here, I’ll order, so I can pay.”

  I shake my head. “You paid last night. My turn.”

  We settle on a meat-filled pizza, and I order while he looks around. His eyes skim my tiny studio flat, taking in my one room that works as a lounge, dining room, and kitchen. I flush and wince under his scrutiny of it; my place isn’t exactly high class. As a rule of thumb, Cambridge is an expensive place to live, so every square foot increases the rent … hence my tiny place filled with second-hand goodies. Jared’s gaze settles on my ugly flesh-tone bra that I wear for work; I abandoned it immediately as soon as I walked in the door tonight and dropped it onto the floor.

  God, why am I such a slob?

  I kick it under the sofa, and one side of his mouth quirks up into a smile.

  While I order, he walks over to my windowsill and looks at the photographs I have there.

  He picks up one and looks over his shoulder at me, one eyebrow raised in question. “Is this you?”

  I nod. “Yep. And my bestie, Heather.”

  He ponders the photo. “You look so different with blonde hair.”

  I shrug and nod in agreement, looking down at the framed photo of me with a shoulder-length honey-blonde bob. “I know. My hair is naturally that colour, but …” I reach up and tousle my pink locks.

  “So, blondes don’t always have more fun?” he teases.

  I shake my head. “Pink me does okay.”

  He purses his lips and looks from me to the photo, considering. “I like the pink better. It suits you and your personality. Pink Amy drives a kooky bike named Bessy and has no filter between her brain and her mouth; it’s adorable.” His eyes twinkle with amusement as he sets the frame back down.