His grin widens. “The car is low, I’m trying to be chivalrous by offering you my assistance.”

“Ooooh, wow, that’s a fifty-cent word.” I place my palm in his. “Thanks for your chivalry, kind sir.”

His skin is soft and smooth and warm. His hand is also really freaking big compared to mine. It makes me wonder if that whole big feet and big hands thing might have some truth to it. Not that I plan to find out tonight.

He places his free hand behind my head so I don’t hit it on the side of the car while I fold myself into the passenger seat. The interior smells like new car and his cologne.

I sink into the buttery leather, running my palm over the seat, taking in all the dials on the dash. It’s nice inside, but it seems small for someone as big as Griffin. He still manages to fold himself into the driver’s seat without difficulty.

Music filters through the stereo when he starts the car, making my seat vibrate. It’s old-school rock, stuff I got into during my teen years while everyone else was freaking out over boy bands.

“Is this okay? Feel free to change the station.” Griffin turns it down so we don’t have to yell at each other to talk.

I give him my address, which he recites into his GPS. I’m literally a five-minute drive away, and that’s if we get stopped at the three traffic lights, which is exactly what happens.

The car is a standard, so I get to watch the muscles in his forearm flex every time he downshifts as we approach a light. We’re a couple of minutes away from my apartment, which also means we’re almost at the end of our date. End-of-date protocol often means a goodnight kiss.

And I’ve eaten onions. Lots of them. What the hell was I thinking? I feel around in my shorts pocket, hoping I have a random stick of gum. I find a tiny square packet and pull it out, along with an old tissue. I shove that back in my pocket and sigh with relief as I carefully open the Listerine Pocketpak. There’s one strip left. I pop it in my mouth, wishing I had water since my mouth is dry and I’m suddenly super nervous.

Griffin pulls up in front of my apartment building. I swallow a bunch of times, trying to get the strip to dissolve on my tongue and glance out the tinted window, seeing it from his perspective. I don’t live in a bad part of town, but I sure as hell wouldn’t leave this car sitting out here for any length of time unless I wanted it keyed or stripped down.

Griffin shifts into park and turns to me, one hand resting on the back of my seat near the headrest. “I had a great time, Cosy.”

“Me too. Thanks for dinner.” I tried to fork over my share, but he was quick on the credit card draw.

“It was my pleasure.” He leans in the tiniest bit, a nonverbal cue that he’s going in for a kiss.

I mirror the movement, giving him the go ahead. My stomach flutters in anticipation. I exhale slowly through my nose. Even though the Listerine strip should be doing its job to mask the onions, I don’t want to ruin the moment by breathing that in his face.

His fingertips skim my jaw, and I close my eyes. And then his lips brush my cheek. I wait for them to move a couple of inches to the right, but after what feels like a lot of seconds—and is probably only a few—I crack a lid.

Griffin is still close, a wry smile on his lips and a smolder in his eyes.

“Seriously, that’s it? A kiss on the cheek?”

His smile widens, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. He’s nothing like the guys I usually end up on dates with. College boys don’t take things slow. If I were out with one of the guys from school, I’d be sitting in a beat-up Civic with some stupid music playing, and he’d be all over me with his tongue halfway down my throat, copping a feel.

“I thought all the onions you ate were the equivalent to garlic for vampires.” Griffin fingers my hair near my shoulder. I’d really like him to finger something else. Wait. I mean I’d like to feel his hands on me. Not in my pants. Okay, maybe I’d like them in my pants, but not after date number one.

“I wasn’t thinking, and I really like onions. A lot. In hindsight, it’s not a great date food. I feel kinda dumb. And I guess at first I wasn’t so sure about you. How was I supposed to know you’d actually be kind of normalish?”

“Normalish?”

“Well, you drink club soda on purpose, so you can’t be all there.” I tap his temple.

Tags: Helena Hunting Shacking Up Erotic
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