The Dating Proposal(37)
She plays with the ends of my hair, asking, “What’s your mission, then?”
I run my fingers down her bare arm, my body electric as I touch her freely. “I think we should date.”
“Because Bruce mentioned it? Even though he said he was joking.” Her tone is straight-up skeptical.
“It’s not a bad idea. But that's not the reason. I want to, and I think you do too.” I meet her blue-eyed stare, waiting for her answer, wanting it to match mine.
“I want it too,” she agrees softly, a little nervously.
I tuck a finger under her chin. “But listen, I know you just want to have fun. I get that you’re not looking for anything more. I respect that. Let’s agree that this thing will be what it is. We won’t push it.”
She nods. “We won’t define this thing.”
“We don’t let it mess with our heads.”
Her smile widens. “We’ll be adults. We’ll do modern dating on our terms.”
“We’ll just date. That’s all. And we won’t expect anything more,” I say, because that seems to be the safest way to have her and to maintain the status quo back at the office.
“Nothing serious. No expectations.”
I hold up my hands, showing I have nothing to hide. “And if it needs to end, we agree to do it like adults.”
“Not like saboteurs.”
“Exactly.”
“We can be civilized grown-ups. We can fun-date.”
“I’ll take that,” I say. “No-strings-attached dating.”
She beams. “I think we just defined it. And defined a new category.”
A waitress clicks her way over, parking a hand on her hip. “Can I get you something, sir?”
“Get one of these drinks, Chris,” McKenna says, pointing purposefully at the flaming red glass in front of her.
I give her a look like she’s crazy. “That’s not manly.”
“Who cares? It’s tasty. Try it,” she says, and I lift the glass, but she stops me. “On my lips.”
Like I’m going to resist that direct order. I drop a quick kiss to her mouth, aware of the waitress but unable to resist McKenna, who tastes like sugar and fire, and I’m dying for more of this cocktail on her delicious lips. I look to the waitress, answering her at last. “One of these.”
When she leaves, McKenna slides a hand along my thigh. “Is this like an officially sanctioned date? Are we truly going to dissect it on your show?”
“Depends on how good it is.”
“How good do you think it’ll be?”
I squeeze her calf. “I think it’ll be great. Call me confident, but I’m already going out on a limb and declaring it worthy of a second date.”
She nods crisply. “Then we should do first date stuff.”
I hope that involves a lot of nudity. I hope it involves her at my place as soon as humanly possible. “Such as?”
“Music. Talk to me about music.”
I laugh because even though I’m dying to get her naked, I’m more than happy to talk music. I go first with the questions. “You like retro tunes. What’s your favorite old standard ever?”
“Ever? As in, all-time?”
“Well, yeah. That would be ever.”
She looks down. “It’s totally cheesy. You’ll laugh.”
“Try me,” I say, eager to get to know her.
She takes a deep breath. “Elvis. ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love.’”
The look in her eyes tells me that costs her something to admit.
24
McKenna
He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and I tense. Have I scared him? Does he think that means I’m some crazy, clingy girl?
It’s just a song, I want to say. Not a declaration.
But instead I wait.
He leans into me and presses his forehead against mine. “That is an awesome song,” he says in a soft voice, and I can barely take it anymore, being this close to him. I want to kiss him all night long. The desire to touch him is so overwhelming it’s fogging my brain, and all I’m seeing, thinking, feeling is this wish to erase any distance between us.
But then I remember, I can do all that now.
We’re dating.
Fun-dating is awesome.
I take advantage of it, and I wiggle closer, stealing another kiss, a soft, whispery one that stops my breath, then he blazes a trail of sweet and sexy kisses down to my throat, and it’s almost sensory overload the way he ignites me. Forget tingles, forget goosebumps. That’s kid stuff compared to this. My body is a comet with Chris. I’m a shooting star from the way he kisses me.
He looks at me, and the expression on his face is one of pride and lust. He knows he’s turned me inside out, and all the way on.
We pull apart. I’m gasping. I shake my head, reconnecting thoughts, and somehow I remember what we were talking about. “You like Elvis?”
“Love the King,” he says, his voice a sexy rumble, the aftereffects of our kiss. “Love that song.”
A sunbeam bursts in my chest. My God, dating someone you like is fantastic. It’s like swallowing rainbows. “What about you? What other kind of music do you love?”