“I like you,” he confesses against my mouth.
“I like you, too,” I tell him, smiling as he kisses me again.
“I’m serious, Holly.” He takes my face in both of his hands, and I blink away the water to look at him. His eyes have gone serious as he looks down at me. “I like you. I’m tired of going slow with you.”
My eyes bounce between his, and my hands come up to hold his against my face.
“I don’t want whatever this is to be enough anymore. I want to take the next step. I want to make this official.” I fight the hysterically happy smile that’s threatening to break out across my face. “What do the kids say these days?” he asks, some laughter filtering into his voice. “Wanna go steady?”
I burst out into laughter and reach up on my tiptoes to kiss him hard on the mouth.
“You could’ve just asked me to be your girlfriend. I don’t think anyone has used the term ‘go steady’ since 1823.”
“That’s just cruel,” he says, smiling down at me. “What’s the answer, then, Holly? Will you be my girlfriend?”
“Of course I will be.” He grabs my thighs, careful to not grip the sore flesh on my butt, and lifts me up, letting me wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. We kiss as he turns off the water and step out of the shower. He helps me dry off before combing my hair and wrapping me in the fluffy robe he bought for me for when I sleep over. It’s white and warm and so fucking soft.
“Dessert?” he asks, his towel still hanging low on his hips. My eyes trail over his body, still hard under the little bit of softness he’s gotten with age. The tattoos are faded, and the hair across his chest is grey, but he’s never looked more handsome to me.
I ask myself every day how I got so lucky as to walk into his bar that night.
“Dessert,” I finally agree, meeting his eyes to see his have gone hot with interest.
“Keep looking at me like that and you’re going to be dessert again.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, boyfriend.”
I wink at him and slip through the doorway before he can grab me. Nothing is getting between me and the chocolate. Not even the promise of another orgasm.
She is stretched out on the bed, almost all of the pillows I own propped up behind her, and her gorgeous legs are poking out of her robe as I rub her feet. I can’t help but find all the little things about her endearing. The way she hates strawberries because they’re sour. The way she doesn’t like any overhead light on…even to shower. I caught her showering in the dark the other night because she didn’t want the overhead light on.
Everything about her is weird in the sexiest way.
“I don’t want to throw you into the deep end,” I tell her as she takes another bite of her chocolate-dipped apple. “But I would really like to introduce you to my kids now that you’re officially going to be a more permanent figure in my life.”
Her eyes widen a little in shock, but she covers it well. I remind myself she’s only twenty-five. Most twenty-five-year-olds aren’t thinking about having kids yet. She’s young, and she definitely didn’t expect us to happen.
“Do you think they’ll be weirded out by how close in age we are?” she asks, not really meeting my gaze. “I’ve thought about this a bit since I started getting more attached to you.” She gives me a little smile like she’s embarrassed to admit it. “It worries me that they’ll think I’m just some fling…a midlife crisis if you will.”
She laughs then, and even though I try to give her a stern look, I end up laughing with her. It’s a fair assumption. I think most people who see an old guy with a younger girl immediately think midlife crisis, or they think she’s a gold digger. But that just isn’t who we are. And I’m hoping my kids will be able to see that.
“It might be a bit of an adjustment at first,” I tell her honestly. “They’re only human, and even though they aren’t children anymore, they’re still my kids. But I’d hope they’ve been raised well enough to trust my decisions.”
She hums and takes another bite, looking around the room while she thinks. She chews on the inside of her lip, a little nervous habit I’ve found she does anytime she’s anxious about something. I slide my hands from her feet up her calves and across her thighs under the robe.
“You can think about it. I’m not asking you to make a decision right this moment,” I tell her, crawling closer to her and straddling her legs. I take her soft face in my hands and kiss her. She tastes sweet and tangy from the dessert, and I drink her in. “But if we are going to work in the long run, it’ll have to happen sooner or later. They’re not going anywhere.”