“Not if you don’t want to kiss me.”
“All right then.” I nod toward her door. “Goodnight.”
“But you do want to kiss me. I can tell. You stare at my lips all the time.”
“That’s because you gloss them up like a porn star. They’re kind of hard to ignore.”
She jerks her hand out of my grip. “Okay, I’m confused. Are you still pissed about the two dates I stood you up for—”
“Ah, so she finally admits she stood me up.”
“Are you trying to prove something here?” I fight the urge to survey her again in tattered jeans and an off-the-shoulder pink sweater. She had the good sense to ditch skirts due to the rapidly cooling weather, but her appeal is no less alluring.
“I’m not bitching about bases. I’d just like to know if you’re planning on stepping up to bat.”
“I guess we’ll see.”
“Or maybe I’m just wasting good lip gloss,” she mumbles, opening her purse and digging for her keys, “Trey Rhodes, my first kiss, in first grade, moved faster than you.”
“That so?”
“It’s so.” She pauses with a hand in her purse and blinks up at me. “So, what’s the holdup?”
“I’m getting to it. I heard you, Whitney, you want a kiss.”
“But not if you don’t want to.”
“Heard that part too.”
“Ugh.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Are you just messing with me?”
“I’m dating you.”
“So, we are dating?”
“Was that unclear?”
“And you want to kiss me.”
“Not right now.”
“Wow, you’re arrogant.”
“Because I don’t kiss on demand?”
“Because you think I’ll wait around forever for it.”
“Four dates is forever?”
“Jesus, forget it.” Retrieving her keys, she turns toward her door, her back to me. Unable to help myself despite my resolve, I step forward, pinning her against her front door, my body encasing hers. Inhaling her scent, I place my palm next to her head and lean in. Goosebumps erupt on her bare shoulder as I skim it with my lips. Her breath comes out in a whoosh before she turns her head, her eyes zeroing in on my lips. I can’t help my grin as I inch in, watching her chest rise and fall. “Ask me nicely, Whitney.”
“For a kiss? You want me to ask you nicely for a kiss?” Her chest pumps harder as I bend so our noses brush, barely.
“Yeah, for a kiss.”
“Look, pal, I don’t do mind control.”
“Or one-night stands, or mushrooms, or jazz music—”
“Because it’s not music,” she states as if it’s obvious.
“Uh huh, I heard you. You also, at times, use movie titles as a verb. You talk a lot. Very informative.”
“Someone has to try to fill the long silences. If you ask me, you don’t talk enough.”
“Well, who’s asking you?”
Her golden-brown eyes flare.
“As it happens, I like hearing you talk. Now, ask me to kiss you, Whitney.”
Her pupils dilate when I grip her wrist and slowly brush my thumb over the delicate skin. Turning to face me, she runs her nails up my chest as I cup her cheek, stroking beneath her glossy lower lip as she runs her tongue along it.
“Will you kiss me, Eli?”
“Okay,” I agree, dipping and running my nose along hers. Standing in wait, her eyes flutter closed. When I remain idle, she opens one eye and narrows it like a cartoon cat spotting a mouse prancing by.
“Goodnight, Whitney,” I murmur before I kiss her cheek, turn, and head towards the elevator.
“Oh, you’re an asshole,” she calls after me.
“An asshole you just asked to kiss you,” I taunt.
“Well, you can forget it. I won’t ask again.”
“That would be moot anyway because you already did.”
“You’re infuriating.”
I glance back at her after pushing the down button. “And you’re incredibly beautiful.”
Her expression softens briefly before she shakes her head in annoyance and practically kicks open her front door.
“I’ll call you later,” I call out just before she slams it.
“I think it’s safe to say Eli is our winner,” Ruby says, wiping her hands on a towel as she observes our table. Thatch kicks back in annoyance, his blueprint for his own mega-mansion poorly executed. “This is horseshit. I came in fifteen minutes late.”