Black

I’ve been kissing girls since the ripe age of twelve, each one better than the last, but not once has a woman felt this good in my arms. Never have I felt lips this soft and a mouth this perfect.

Shae hums deep in her chest, slowly pulling back—eyes closed, gorgeous smile. I drop my forehead to hers.

“I want to devour you, consume you until there’s nothing left. What kind of man does that make me?”

“Rex,” she whispers, her voice full of raw emotion.

I glide my hands up her arms, over her shoulders, and cup her neck. “Whatever this is, we don’t have to give it a name. If you’re not ready, we don’t have to define us, but I need to know I’m going to get to do that again. Tomorrow. Next week. A month from now. I want to do that again.”

She grins. “I’d like that.”

A generous weight is lifted from my shoulders, and I feel like I can breathe. Linking our fingers together, I lead her down the sidewalk.

“Tell me about you,” I urge.

“You already know my favorite color, my favorite food, and my favorite baseball team, so you’re already three up on me,” she says. “Maybe you should tell me about you.”

“Blue. Italian. Cubs. Your turn.”

Eyes wide, she looks at me, grinning. “I don’t see how this could ever work between us. A Cubs fan and a Cardinals fan…I’m sure there’s a joke in there somewhere.”

“On the contrary, I think it’ll be good for us. Give us something to argue over. Now you’re not three up, so tell me something else.”

“What else do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with your career. Event planning—that sounds like an interesting job.”

“It is, but it’s certainly not for everyone.”

“Bridezillas?”

“Oh my gosh,” she says, laughing. “You have no idea. Weddings are by far my least favorite event to plan for that reason alone.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Birthday parties. Sweet sixteen events, if we’re getting specific.”

“Do people really do those? I always thought it was just a myth. I sure as hell never had one.”

“It’s a really big thing that’s growing in popularity, and you’d be surprised at how much money some people will drop to give their sweet baby girl a party to remember. I mean, we’re talking thousands, sometimes tens of thousands of dollars.”

My kids are so screwed because no way would I spend that kind of money on a birthday party. “Why is that your favorite?”

She looks off in the distance and shrugs. “Birthday parties hold a certain magic for me. When you’re growing up, it’s such a monumental thing, and you get to do it every single year. Every year you’re guaranteed one day where you’ll get to shove your face with cake, blow out candles, and open presents with your friends. But it doesn’t last, and that’s why it’s so special. Eventually you grow up, and the birthday parties disappear. They’re replaced by a card, and if you’re lucky a text or call from a friend or parent wishing you a happy birthday. Where’s the magic in that?” She looks over at me as we walk. “I bet you had some amazing birthday parties growing up.”

“Why do you think that?”

She shrugs, looking at the packed streets. “You and Dante seem to be doing well. I assume you had two really great parents behind that, and where there’s two really great parents, there’s usually some kick-ass birthday parties.”

“One really great parent,” I correct. “And one absent parent who thought it was more important to buy me something expensive than actually show up for the party.”

She sighs as though she knows what that’s like. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You were right. My mom made sure we had some really great parties.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Just your typical things. Bowling. Skating. Swimming. McDonalds.”