Rough Around the Edges (8 page)

Through the crystal-clear glass, he could see the dark red liquid lapping against her parted lips. He hadn’t tasted his own wine yet, but detected a faint sweetness on his tongue anyway.

He shifted in his seat in an effort to relieve the pressure his jeans were exerting against his stiffening cock. Her smile had nothing to do with that, did it? There was no way she could know how hard he was under the table. Unless she knew exactly how beautiful she looked sitting there, which was unlikely. She didn’t seem like the vain type at all.

As they cleared their plates, the waitress returned and offered to pour Ally another glass from the bottle Ryan had ordered.

She hesitated for the barest moment, then nodded, her gaze flickering to Ryan a couple times before she devoted her attention to the glass, wrapping her fingers around its crystal stem.

Her lashes fanned out against the soft skin beneath her eyes when she looked down. They were true black, darker than the deep brown waves of hair framing her face. And it wasn’t because of her mascara, either – no, he’d noticed her thick, dark lashes the first time he’d met her eyes, when she’d been make-up free in the gym.

An involuntary smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The expression on her face now was so different than the one she’d worn the first time she’d looked at him. Had everything changed so dramatically all at once, during the moment she’d discovered that he’d helped Melissa out?

His chest felt strangely tight as he stared across the table. Yeah, that was the way things like that usually went, wasn’t it? Big changes – the kind that could affect the rest of your life – usually happened in a split second, one you never saw coming.

Maybe her new fondness for him was the sort of change that could affect the rest of his life. How was he supposed to know? He wasn’t any good at predicting the future. For the better part of two years, he’d lived in the present and the past. Sometimes he wasn’t sure which was which.

It had started in Afghanistan – thinking of the future had always been a temptation there, but one he’d tried not to indulge too often because it had made him too miserable. Of course he’d longed for the end of his deployment, but he’d known that focusing on the present was important if he wanted to make it back to his home country in one piece. So he’d tried his best.

Now, thinking of the future was like working out a neglected muscle – one that ached when strained too hard. It was impossible to separate what he wanted now – Ally – from speculation about the future. Maybe that meant something, and maybe it didn’t. He ignored the thoughtless part of his mind that insisted it did and slipped back into the comfortable realm of living in the moment.

“Would you like me to ask the waitress to get you a box for that?” Ally seemed to have finished eating, but still had half a salad and an untouched breadstick sitting on the side of her plate.

“No thanks.” She was still holding her glass by its stem. Her lips had been tinted faintly red by the wine.

For the first time that night, he raised his own glass and took a modest sip.

The wine was spicy and just sweet enough. Cherry, vanilla and cinnamon, the flavors slid across his tongue, each surprisingly distinct. Maybe his taste buds were just hyper-sensitive because he’d spent the past hour imagining what Ally would taste like.

A couple sips were all he took before paying the bill and leaving the rest of the glass on the table. He accepted the wrapped bottle from the waitress, but he wouldn’t drink it.

When Ally rose from the table, she walked close to his side. He reached out in a gesture that felt surprisingly natural and rested his hand against the small of her back. Even through her jacket and the clothing beneath, her body heat teased and warmed his fingers. He was definitely living in the moment, and it felt good. The past, the future – neither mattered as he crossed the parking lot with his hand in the little valley above Ally’s hips.

“There should be an action movie starting around the time we arrive, if that’s all right with you.” Reluctantly, he removed his hand from her back and gripped the passenger-side door handle instead.

“Sure.” She slid into the car and when he took his seat behind the wheel, it hit him how different driving was when she was riding with him.

As he pulled out of the lot, guiding the car down the street wasn’t enjoyable because he had a kickass car; it was enjoyable because he was going somewhere he wanted to go, with someone he wanted to be with. A faint feeling of amazement washed over him and remained, clinging to his consciousness as they arrived at the theater and walked inside.

The movie was as action-packed as it had promised to be, but that was the best thing that could’ve been said about it. The fights were unrealistic, the dialogue questionable at best and every time something exploded on screen – which was about every ten minutes – the burst of sound and light rattled something inside Ryan.

He resisted the urge to slip an arm around Ally’s shoulders. He ached to touch her, but if the mind-numbingly loud special effects caught him by surprise, she’d be sure to feel the way his muscles tightened in response, making his limbs jerk.

Choosing an action movie had been a dumbass move. He’d picked it because one of his co-workers had said it was good. He hadn’t considered that there would be explosive special effects or how they might jar his memory and his body. This was the first time he’d been in a movie theater since before his deployment to Afghanistan.

Sitting there and keeping his hands to himself was hard, but not as hard as maintaining his dignity would be if Ally knew that every ridiculously unlikely on-screen explosion – including the one that the hero jumped over on a freaking motorcycle – made his heart jump.

So he sat, barely moving, with one hand gripping an armrest and the other beside his leg, his fist wedged between his thigh and the side of the seat.

His knuckles dug into the denim and he could feel the irregular ridge of scar tissue beneath, a jagged line that ran the length of his thigh. As he sat with his spine rigid against the inadequately-padded theater seat, the stripe of raised pink and white flesh was all he could see in his mind’s eye. Thinking of the mark was better than thinking about how he’d gotten it, so he focused on it, mentally tracing every ugly twist and turn until the credits rolled across the screen.

Every muscle in his body tingled with relief as he stood, free at last.

Ally rose beside him, her head of dark waves coming up to his shoulder. When she looked up and met his eyes, he caved, giving in to the desires he hadn’t dared succumb to during the film.

He stared at her shoulder, tracing the curve of it and letting his fingers trail down her arm until they rested on her elbow. Hands steady now that the theater was filled with nothing but the dull murmur of departing moviegoers, he kept his hand there and guided her out into the lobby.

The open area in front of the concession counter seemed especially bright after an agonizing hour and a half spent in the black interior of the theater. He let the artificial brilliance wash away the fiery impressions of half a dozen different explosions – images that had remained in his mind and on the insides of his eyelids throughout the movie. Breathing in the greasy scent of butter-drenched popcorn, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so free.

Ally walked close beside him, saying nothing as they crossed the tile floor. Did that mean she hadn’t liked the movie, either? A part of him regretted wasting her time, but mostly, he was just glad the film was over. Next time they’d see a different kind of movie. Maybe a comedy or something. Had any been advertised in the previews? He thought back. If he could just think of the name of one, it would be the perfect excuse to ask her on a second date.

He scanned the posters lining the walls, hoping something promising would catch his eye as he reached for the door and pushed it open.

His concentration shattered when Ally made a sudden, breathy sound – a gasp; there was no other word for it.

A moment later, the skin on the back of his neck pebbled in response to the cold gust of wind that had just rushed through the door. The air was colder than before, the temperature lower and the sky darker.

Ally’s hair fluttered against his bicep, tumbling in the wake of the wind. Reacting instinctively, he slipped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer as the theater door fell shut behind them.

They walked across the parking lot that way. His arm and her shoulders fit together like a lock and key; the fit was too good to give up when they reached the Mustang. Instead, he stepped in front of her, drawing her so close her breasts nearly brushed his chest as he placed his other hand on her waist.

He lowered his head and the soft feel of her lips against his banished the last traces of the sick feeling the movie’s special effects had given him. Despite how good it felt, he took it slow, savoring every moment of contact and fighting to remain aware of her response, of her subtle indicators of receptiveness. It was their first date, after all.

The way she practically melted against him sent a bolt of victorious urgency straight through his consciousness. He ran his tongue across the seam of her lips in response; it had been forever since he’d kissed someone, but his body responded more quickly than his mind, his actions fueled by equal parts instinct and desire.

She parted her lips and her breath poured out against his mouth in a rush of warmth, cueing a wave of lust that had him fully, almost painfully hard.

He drew her closer, entering a world of wet heat and flavor. Notes of vanilla and cherry spice lingered on her tongue, reminding him of the wine he’d barely tasted at the restaurant. Beneath that, there was a sweetness that didn’t match with anything she’d had to drink or eat – a taste that was clearly her own. It was far more intoxicating than the traces of alcohol.

His cock throbbed, teased by the light pressure of her body brushing his. He tightened his hold on her hip, barely resisting the urge to pull her flush against him. If she were just an inch or two closer, she’d be able to feel the rod of his dick against her belly and he’d be able to feel the press of her warm body against it. It would be a tease, for sure, but one he’d savor.

He leaned back, withdrawing from her mouth less gracefully than he’d entered. The sudden end was a cautionary reflex – he hadn’t wanted to stop at all. But he’d had little choice; if he wasn’t careful, he’d screw things up. She’d obviously been into the kiss, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be dry-humped against the Mustang in the middle of the parking lot.

For a moment, she kept her eyes shut, a faintly startled expression curving the corners of her parted lips. When she finally looked at him, there was no hint of reproach in her gaze.

Good – that meant his thoughts weren’t showing on his face. “
It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date. So you’ll have to tell me – was that too much for a first date?”

“No.” She trembled slightly, as if she missed his heat as much as he missed hers. “At least, I don’t think so. I haven’t dated a lot, so I’m not an expert.”

A thread of surprised satisfaction wove its way through his thoughts as he stared back, unable and unwilling to break eye contact with her. She was the kind of woman who turned heads – if she hadn’t dated much, that had to have been by choice. But she’d agreed to a date with him. Something simmered beneath the fog of lust that shrouded his brain – pride, maybe. He was tempted to kiss her again, but resisted.

“Well, you said you don’t date strangers. I didn’t know how you felt about kissing one.” He tested the waters of her graciousness, wanting to hear her say that she’d wanted it, that she’d liked it.

“You’re not a stranger.” Her voice was a little breathy, but her eyes were bold – dark and gleaming beneath the powerful overhead lights that illuminated the parking lot. “Not exactly.”

“That’s good to hear.” His lips burnt, the blood humming under the surface of thin skin, agitated by contact with her mouth. He leaned closer but removed his hand from her hip and pressed it against the cold metal of the Mustang’s door instead.

Strands of her hair waved as his breath combed through them and his fingers tingled with the urge to do the same thing. Her hair looked soft and natural, like she didn’t use much product in it. He couldn’t wait to bury his hands in it.

Another time.

The door opened with a soft
click
and he unwrapped his arm from around her shoulders, giving up contact with her altogether.

His lips continued to burn as he drove, leaving the theater behind as he made his way toward Ally’s house. He kept quiet and enjoyed the feeling, lost in thoughts of her and unable to think of anything to say that didn’t involve voicing just how badly he wanted to touch her again, to taste her.