I smile as I pull my fingers through his dark hair. “Did you come all the way across town to make out with me on the street?” I ask innocently.
“No.” He smirks. “But now that I’m here, it’s the only thing I want to do.”
We kiss again, and it’s slow and tender, and I feel my arousal fly in like a 747.
His hard length makes an appearance up against my stomach, and I smile broadly.
“What?”
“Is he coming to dinner?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Well, he does seem to want to hang around whenever you are near.”
“Hanging isn’t a word that I would use to describe that thing.”
His eyes sparkle with a certain something, and he takes my hand in his. “Let’s go this way.”
“We’re walking?” I ask in surprise.
“I got dropped off. They’ll pick us up later. We’ll catch a cab from here to the restaurant.”
“Okay.”
We walk around the corner, and he hails a cab, and we climb into the back of it. “Waverly Place, please.”
“Okay.” The driver pulls out into the traffic.
“How long have you lived in New York?” I ask.
“My whole life.”
“Your parents live here?” I frown. I can’t imagine growing up in a city like this.
“Yes, although I went to school elsewhere.”
“Where did you go to school?”
“Many places—finished in Aspen.”
I stare at him. What the hell? “You went to school alone in Aspen?”
“No, I always had my brothers with me.” He picks my hand up and kisses the back of it with a soft smile.
I stare at him. We come from completely different worlds. I can’t even fathom his upbringing.
“What’s that look?” he asks.
“I wasn’t even allowed to have a sleepover at my friend’s place.”
“Independence has always been encouraged in my family.”
I smile as I think of something.
“What?”
“If you’ve been living on your own since you were . . . ?” I pause as I wait for his answer.
“Twelve.”