We’re standing in the same position when the timer on the oven dings. He doesn’t immediately release me though, which makes me smile. When he does begin to drop his arms, I look down to the floor, unable to look at him. Somehow, me trying to rectify the awkwardness about kissing him has just made things even more awkward for me.
As if he can sense my embarrassment, he takes both of my hands in his and interlocks our fingers. “Look at me.” I lift my eyes to his, trying to hide the disappointment from realizing our mutual attraction is on two different levels. “Sky, I’m not kissing you tonight but believe me when I tell you, I’ve never wanted to kiss a girl more. So stop thinking I’m not attracted to you because you have no idea just how much I am. You can hold my hand, you can run your fingers through my hair, you can straddle me while I feed you spaghetti, but you are not getting kissed tonight. And probably not tomorrow, either. I need this. I need to know for sure that you’re feeling every single thing that I’m feeling the moment my lips touch yours. Because I want your first kiss to be the best first kiss in the history of first kisses.” He pulls my hand up to his mouth and kisses it. “Now stop sulking and help me finish the meatballs.”
I grin, because that was seriously the best excuse ever for being turned down. He could turn me down every day for the rest of my life, so long as it’s followed up by that excuse.
He swings our hands between us, peering down at me. “Okay?” he says. “Is that enough to get you through a couple more dates?”
I nod. “Yep. But you’re wrong about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You said you want my first kiss to be the best first kiss, but this won’t be my first kiss. You know that.”
He narrows his eyes and pulls his hands from mine, then cups my face again. He pushes me back against the refrigerator and brings his lips dangerously close to mine. The smile is gone from his eyes and is replaced by a very serious expression. An expression so intense, I stop breathing.
He leans in excruciatingly slowly until his lips just barely reach mine, and the anticipation of them alone is enough to paralyze me. He doesn’t close his eyes, so neither do I. He holds me in this position for a moment, allowing our breath to blend between us. I’ve never felt so helpless and out of control of myself, and if he doesn’t do something within the next three seconds, I’m more than likely going to pounce him.
He looks at my lips and when he does, it prompts me to pull my bottom lip between my teeth. Otherwise, I just might bite him.
“Let me inform you of something,” he says in a low voice. “The moment my lips touch yours, it will be your first kiss. Because if you’ve never felt anything when someone’s kissed you, then no one’s ever really kissed you. Not the way I plan on kissing you.”
He drops his hands and keeps his eyes locked on mine while he backs up to the stove. He turns around to tend to the pasta like he didn’t just ruin me for any other guy for the rest of my life.
I can’t feel my legs, so I do the only thing I can. I slide down the refrigerator until my butt meets the floor, and I inhale.
“Your spaghetti sucks ass.” I take another bite and close my eyes, savoring what is possibly the best pasta that’s ever passed my lips.
“You love it and you know it,” he says. He stands up from the table and grabs two napkins, then brings them back and hands me one. “Now wipe your chin, you’ve got sucky ass spaghetti sauce all over it.”
After the incident against the refrigerator, the night pretty much went back to normal. He gave me a glass of water and helped me stand up, then slapped me on the ass and put me to work. It was all I needed to let go of the awkwardness. A good slap on the ass.
“Have you ever played Dinner Quest?” I ask him.
He slowly shakes his head. “Do I want to?”
I nod. “It’s a good way to get to know each other. After our next date, we’ll be spending most of our time making out, so we need to get all the questions out of the way now.”
He laughs. “Fair enough. How do you play?”
“I ask you a really personal, uncomfortable question and you aren’t allowed to take a drink or eat a bite of food until you answer it honestly. And vice versa.”
“Sounds easy enough,” he says. “What if I don’t answer the question?”
“You starve to death.”
He drums his fingers on the table, then lays his fork down. “I’m in.”