“Are you done chewing for a moment?”
“Yes.”
He leaned forward. “You have the sexiest mouth.”
“Even with a boxer’s lip?”
“Even then.”
I made the time-out sign.
“What?”
“I think before you try and melt my damn panties while I’m scarfing down appetizers, we should review our dating ground rules.”
“Jesus. Of course she has rules.” He knocked back a large drink of his margarita. “Hit me with rule one.”
“We’re exclusive.”
“Kind of a no-brainer, Gabriella.”
I ate another mushroom. “Rule two. STDs. We exchange health histories ASAP because I’m allergic to most condoms. We could use a spermicide if you want, even when I’m on the pill.”
Nolan’s eyes flashed with heat. “This matter-of-fact discussion of us fucking is turning me on. Was that your intent?”
I rolled my eyes. “You won’t even kiss me, so no.”
“I don’t have an STD, despite my manwhore past. I had a physical mid-January. All clean.” He pulled out his phone and started swiping through apps. Within a minute, my phone pinged with a text message. “My latest test results. I haven’t been with anyone since New Year’s Eve.”
“Not being sarcastic, but is that unusual for you?”
“Very. I wanted my personal life to go a different direction this year and it has.” He stole a fry. “How about you?”
“I also had my yearly physical in January, as required by the Minnesota Youth Hockey League. Clean test results, which I’ll send after I piss and moan about the fact I can’t remember my damn log-in for the health site.”
He snickered.
“The last time Tyson and I had sex was like . . . December.”
“It’s April.”
“Yeah, so? Like I told you earlier, I was a shitty girlfriend to him. But I promise, Lund, I will be the very best girlfriend to you.”
“You’re already the best girlfriend since you’ll be the first woman I’ve ever slept with without wearing a condom.”
I fake gasped. “I get to be a first for you for something?”
“The pressure is on, baby.” He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I wanna be a first for you for something too.”
“Maybe you’ll be the first guy who can beat me at golf.” I stood. “Let’s play.”
He frowned at all the remaining food. “But you barely ate anything.”
“I was a dumbass ordering what I did, since it’s all breaded and salty and impossible to eat. I’ll be fine.”
“Wrong. I’m not taking a chance you’ll topple over the edge, so I’ll find something on this menu you can eat while you figure out your password and send me your health history.”
Okay then.
By the time I found the information, copied it and texted it to him, the fruit and protein smoothie he’d ordered had arrived.
“Thank you, Nolan. This is really sweet of you.”
He messed with the digital screen, adding our names. “What game do you want to play first?”
“What are the choices?”
“Basic high score out of nine balls, or accuracy hitting four targets, or farthest shot and closest to the flag shot.”
“Nine balls.”
As he relayed our game choice, I wandered over to choose my club. All of them were kind of crappy choices. I lifted the one I wanted out and spun around.
Nolan took one look at me holding the 9-iron and began to laugh. Hard.
“Wanna share what’s so gut-bustlingly funny?”
“Happy Gilmore.”
“Excuse me?”
“This reminds me of Happy Gilmore.”
“Because I’m a hockey player about to play golf?”
“Yes! I freakin’ love that movie. And now I’m annoyed with myself for not naming it when we were texting about comfort movies.”
“You’re weird, Lund.”
“Not a surprise to you, Happy.”
I lowered the golf club. “Did you just call me Happy?”
“Yep. I’ve decided that’ll be my pet name for you.”
“No.”
“Yes. Come on. It’s perfect. And that means you get to give me a pet name too.”
I opened my mouth to say something rude, when he stopped me. “Something nice, Happy.”
Christ. He’d nicknamed me Happy.
At least he wasn’t calling me Crabby Gabi.
Think, Gabi. Something clever. Something to do with a prince . . .
Aha.
I smirked at him. “Okay. Got one.”
“Tell me.”
“You have to earn it. So quit stalling and let’s play. You can even go first.”
I realized he really knew how to play golf after I witnessed his Tiger Woods–worthy swing.
Jerk.
So, looking around to make sure no one was watching me, I went for comedic relief, racing up to the ball sideways, swinging my golf club like a caveman the way Happy did in the movie.
Nolan laughed so hard he was crying.
To see him let go so completely with me . . . that was heady stuff.
When the man trounced me in all three styles of games, I couldn’t even be mad about it. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had so much fun on a date.
Yes. You can. At the barcade.
But that hadn’t been a date.
How about at the bowling alley yesterday?
Technically, that hadn’t been a date either, but why had it felt like one?
Because every time you’re with him it feels special, and yet at the same time . . . familiar.
I felt the press of his body behind mine and his hands squeezed my hips. “Whatcha thinking about so hard?”
“What game I could beat you at three times in a row for our next challenge.”
“We don’t have to compete with everything, Happy.”
“Yes, we do, Ozzy. It’s what we do.”
Nolan went still behind me. “Ozzy is the nickname you came up with? As in, Ozzy Osbourne, Prince of Darkness?”
“See what I did there?”
“Babe. The woman who created Asswipf can do better than that.”
“Fine,” I huffed. “I’ll just call you Charming.”
“That’ll work.” He tugged on my ponytail. “Come on. Our time here is up. Onto our next dating adventure.”
Our next stop was Izzy’s Ice Cream. Nolan didn’t even make fun of me for mostly holding the plain vanilla malt cup against my lip until it’d melted enough that I could drink it.
He drove us to a parking lot, demanding I let him cover my eyes as he directed me forward, laughing as we duckwalked with his arms wrapped around my chest and his rough-skinned hands covering my face.
Then he whispered, “Okay, open them.”
We stood in front of the Riverview Theater, a movie house that’d been in business since the late 1940s. I’d wanted to come here for ages, not solely because they had cheap ticket prices, but because it’d retained that classic old-movie-theater vibe.
But when I saw what was playing on the marquee, I spun around, my mouth open in total shock. “Ladyhawke? Is this a coincidence?”
“What do you think?”
When I narrowed my eyes at him, he laughed.
“I called in a favor. No big.” He pointed to the line of people waiting to get in. “As you can see, this will be profitable for them too.”
“I want to kiss you so badly right now it actually hurts.”
Nolan lowered his forehead to mine. “I know.”
I covered my sappy moment with a flip, “Well, you’ll get off cheap at the concession stand, not having to buy me popcorn since I
can’t eat it.”
* * *
* * *
After the movie, I figured Nolan would take me home. But we ended up at the Hi-Lo Diner. He ordered soft scrambled eggs, white bread, not toast, and plain oatmeal—for both of us.
“You don’t have to suffer just because I am.”
“It’s killing me not kissing you so I figured we could suffer all things together.”
This man. I was half in love with him already. On our first damn date.
He threaded our fingers together across the Formica tabletop. “What?”
“Will you freak out if I tell you this is the best date I’ve ever had?”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
“We’re on the same page, Happy, because it’s the best date I’ve ever had too.”
Happy. He killed me.
“What’s on the tycoon’s agenda this week?”
“Headed out of town on Wednesday. Business trip that I’ve been putting off.”
He swept his thumb back and forth over the inside of my wrist. Natural affection was another surprising reveal about Nolan Lund.
“What about you?” he asked.
“I’m doing season wrap-up stuff. Then I’m holding an out-of-town clinic. Although the last class doesn’t end until eight, I’ll probably come home Saturday night. I’d rather sleep in my own bed.”
He sighed. “Juggling ‘opposite schedules’ is part of the dating gig with business professionals, isn’t it?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I’m glad we can text.” I lifted our joined hands and looked at his long fingers. He had nice hands.
He has a nice everything.
“That’s not an accurate gauge, you know.”
“What?”
“A man’s hand size in relation to the size of his dick.”
“Umm, dude, that’s not what I was contemplating at all. Since you already told me your dick is average sized.”
He lifted a brow. “What if I lied?”
“Telling me it was a monster cock would’ve indicated that you were attempting to overcompensate, so I believe you that it’s average.”
“Jesus, Gabriella.”
“Besides, it’s not like I’ll find that out firsthand tonight.”
Our food arrived and we didn’t say much as we dug in.
After we cleaned our plates, we both ordered coffee.
Nolan leaned back in the booth, looking at me curiously.
“What? Do I have egg on my face or something?”
“Hilarious. But no. I’m wondering why you think I don’t plan on ending our date with a bang.”
I squirmed at being put on the spot.
“Tell me.”
“You’ve mostly been a ‘one and done’ or ‘two and through’ guy. You don’t want that with me. You want our relationship to be different from the start.”
“How can you know me so well in such a short span of time?”
I shrugged. “I pay attention to body language. I’m a good listener. Maybe I’ve been comforting myself throughout this date with the knowledge that even if you could kiss me breathless, we still wouldn’t end up naked together at some point tonight.”
“That bothers you.”
“Of course it does.” Leaning closer, I rested my forearms on the table. “Why do you get to decide that? It takes two to tango, Charming. My lust for you should get a vote.”
“Gabriella.”
God. The sexy, raspy way he ground out my name scraped along my nerve endings like a rough caress across my skin.
“But the truth is . . . I get it. It’s probably a good thing we’re not making out like fiends. I doubt I could come without being kissed anyway.”
Nolan choked on his coffee. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Kissing is . . . intimate. Or passionate. Or sweet. It sets the tone for sex. Without it? No real intimacy. Or passion. Or sweetness. I can’t come without those sensations being in play.”
He met me halfway across the table, eyes flashing fire. “I can make you come, harder than you’ve ever come in your life, without putting my lips on yours even one time.”
I laughed.
“I’m not even close to joking, Gabriella.”
“Well, it’s a moot point.” I signaled for the check. He’d become so broody he hadn’t objected when I paid for our meal.
Nolan continued to mutter on the way back to Snow Village. Once there, he parked sideways in front of the row of single-car garages.
When he still didn’t speak after shutting off the car, I’d reached my limit.
“Look. I don’t know what crawled—”
“Under my skin and into my thoughts to the point I can’t think of anything else?” he supplied. Then he faced me. “That would be you, Gabriella. Specifically the challenge you threw down that I can’t show you intimacy without us being in a liplock. I want a chance to prove you wrong.”
“Wait a sec. You mean you want to do this now?”
“Yes. Right here, right now.” Then he eased his seat all the way back and patted his thighs. “Come sit on my lap.”
“B-but . . . my apartment is right there.”
“We both know what’ll happen if we’re in a space with a bed. So let’s mess around, pace ourselves and not race to the finish line.” He reached over and curled his hand across my throat. “I want to make you mindless from just my touch, my whispers in your ear and my mouth on your skin.”
That might’ve been the hottest thing any man had ever said to me.
He kept that sexy gaze on mine as his thumb stroked my neck. “What do you say?”
My body screamed YES! But reluctantly, I replied, “No.”
Shocked, he echoed, “No?”
“I don’t want pieces of intimacy, Nolan. I want all of you, all of us, touching and kissing without limitations. Not only can’t I kiss your mouth, I can’t kiss you anywhere else. So as anxious as I am to explore this heat between us, I’d rather wait until I can get you as lust-drunk as I know you will make me.”
After a moment, he sighed. “Fair enough.”
My gaze fell to his perfect, pouting mouth. “I really want to kiss you good night.”
“You’ll have to settle for this.” He kissed my cheek. Then my temple. Then the corner of my eye. Then my ear, where he growled, “Fucking cookies,” before he nipped my lobe and retreated.
Then a beep and his car doors slid up.
I was surprised to see him get out of the car too. At my quizzical look, he said, “I’ll at least walk you to the door.”
“Not necessary.” I smirked at him. “I might be tempted to invite you in. You can watch me from here. Good night, Charming.”
“Good night, Happy.”
I wrapped my coat more tightly around me as I walked to my building. I turned and blew him a kiss after we were safely separated by a locked glass door.
Twenty-One
NOLAN
I hadn’t seen Gabi yesterday. Nor had we exchanged more than a quick text or two.
That worried me. Had I pushed her too far Sunday night? Even when all I’d done was suggest we mess around, mostly clothed, in a parked car like a couple of horny teens?
Way to bring your A game, Lund, when it really matters.
So yeah, I felt a bit stalkerish parking in the Lakeside lot, waiting for her to lock up for the night. But I needed to see her in-person reaction to me, so I hadn’t texted her that I’d planned to stop by after work.
The last student had left ten minutes ago. Finally the interior lights in the building clicked off and Gabi pushed through the door, pausing outside to set the alarm.
As soon as she turned around, I flashed my car lights to get her attention and held my breath for her reaction.
She
lifted her head and stopped on the sidewalk.
I’d rested my backside against the driver’s side door of my Bugatti, trying to look casual and cool, but my heart skipped. I managed a smile and a dorky, “Heya, Coach.”
Gabi’s face lit up and she ran toward me.
Ran.
Okay, then. Guess that answered that question.
I caught her, giving her a full-body hug, which she fully returned.
Everything inside me settled.
“I was just about to call you and see if you wanted to meet up,” she said against my chest.
I kissed the top of her head. “Where did you have in mind to meet?”
Gabi tipped her head back and looked at me. “My bedroom.”
For once, my focus didn’t get ensnared by her twinkling silvery-blue eyes. My gaze fell to her mouth.
Her mostly healed mouth. Her busted lip looked . . . nearly normal.
“How?”
“After you dropped me off Sunday, I knew if I wanted it to heal faster I’d have to rest it fully and do nothing to agitate it. Which meant no talking. At all. No eating besides drinking protein drinks. No constantly blowing a whistle. So I didn’t work yesterday or today. I came in half an hour before class ended to close up so Margene could go home. I kept the cut dry, using gauze and cotton—even when I slept, which was a lot—and that allowed me to use ointment to speed up the healing process.”
“You needed the rest. I’m glad you took it.” I scrutinized the rest of her face. The bruises looked more colorful, but that meant they’d be gone soon too. “Is it still sore?”
“Only one way to find out,” she whispered huskily.
I curled my hands around her face and lowered my mouth to hers.
We’d both formed our lips into an exaggerated pucker, and we remained like that for several long moments, just because we finally could. Then we smiled simultaneously, and our lips started to move against each other’s. Tentatively at first, not out of fear of reinjuring her lip, but to drag out each breathtaking second of our first kiss.
I willed time to stand still so I could remember every teasing glide of her soft flesh against mine. Every soft breath. Every gentle lick. Every needy moan rumbling between us. Her sweet taste on my tongue. The fervent sucking as she tasted me. The pliant give-and-take.