He glances down at his leather watch and then up at me. I know we’re thinking the same thing. We’ve been so patient all day, touching only when it feels appropriate, not sneaking off to make out in the restaurant’s bathroom even though that’s what we want to do more than anything.
The waiter comes by to see how we’re doing, and Connor doesn’t even bother asking if everyone is finished before he asks for the check.
I’m amazed he can train his voice to sound so casual while his grip is tightening on my upper leg. There’s an energy emanating off him. It’s palpable and heady and I would pinch the collar of my T-shirt to air it out if it wouldn’t draw too much undue attention.
While the guys sign the checks (Connor offered to pay, but Noah insisted on splitting the bill), Lindsey asks me when I’m going in for blood work. I tell her I have an appointment this week. She outlines what tests will be on the panel and I try to listen, I really do, but Connor’s signature is getting scribbled on that damn check and soon we’ll be done with this dinner and racing home. I can taste freedom.
Connor stands and holds his hand out for me. When our fingers lace together, I feel calmed, like everything that will happen between now and the moment Connor lets go can’t pass through our forcefield of love. He’s got me. He leads me out of the restaurant with Noah and Lindsey on our tail. I’m slightly worried Noah will invite Lindsey back to the townhouse, and though she’s my very best friend and I love her dearly, I’m extremely relieved when Noah volunteers to walk her home instead.
She dismisses his offer. “Oh, it’s fine. You don’t have to do that. I run this way all the time.”
“I insist,” Noah says, dropping his hand to her lower back and already starting to move on before anyone can protest. He shoots us a wave as they start to walk away, and just like that, Connor and I realize we’re finally alone.
The walk home is done at a near run. My shins are burning by the time we kick open the front door (okay, fine, we use a key and turn the knob like normal). Once there, I drop my souvenir cup from the baseball game onto the table along with my keys and phone. Then Connor hauls me up against the front door. I’m pinned there with his hands on my hips when he bends down and kisses me. Oof. The brims of our baseball hats knock together and we laugh as we yank them off and attempt round two. His lips brush mine, and this time we fit like magnets. His hands tighten, fisting my T-shirt, and already, I’m rising up onto my toes, trying to bring our bodies together. I need his heat, his touch on my skin. I’m crazed for it.
We stay there in the foyer working each other up, kissing and tugging on clothes. We start to strip. Shoes. Socks. Shirts. We’re still downstairs and I’m worried Noah could return any minute, but Connor doesn’t whisk me behind a locked door like he should. Not until I’m pleading with him, my arms wrapped around his neck, hips pressed up trying to meet his.
He breaks our kiss and bends down to grab our clothes before he gathers me in his arms again. He starts to move and my feet leave the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist and he carries me outside through the garden and out to the guest house. I tip my head up and catch sight of the half-moon watching over us. It’s bright tonight, more than sufficient to light our way through the garden. As he traverses the path, my mouth rains kisses down his jaw, his neck, his shoulders.
He’s laughing as he pushes open the door and trips over the threshold, but he keeps his footing, taking us all the way into the guest house so he can set my feet back on the floor in front of the open windows.
He steps back slowly and I stay still, letting him look at me.
“Undress for me,” he says, and already my fingers are on the button of my jeans, undoing it, and then the zipper. I push the pants down my legs and kick them aside and he’s on me in a second, kissing my mouth, tugging my bra straps down off my shoulders.
“I have a confession to make,” he says, pressing the words into my neck as he kisses his way down to my chest.
My fingers lace through his hair. “Jeez, you’re all about confessions today.”
He chuckles as he finds the clasp of my bra and releases it so the two sides fall apart. The soft material slides down my arms and then his hands glide down my chest, a whisper of sensation that makes my toes curl. He does it again, loving my reaction to his touch.