Ten first dates, p.14

Ten First Dates, page 14

 

Ten First Dates
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  “Sweetheart, I’m going to need to be naked.”

  “Is this the little bit faster?” She bats her lashes at me.

  “Damn right. Strip.” I pull my shirt over my head and toss it on the floor. Jade slides off the counter and begins to undress, letting her clothes fall with mine. Why that’s sexy to me, I have no idea. It’s a pile of clothes. Sure, her black lacey bra is on top of the pile, but it’s more than that. It’s the simple fact that her things are combined with mine.

  This is a glimpse of our future, and I’m here for it.

  She’s never stayed over. I’ve asked her several times, but we’ve kept that line, but it’s blurry. No, fuck that. The line is gone. She’s mine. I’m hers, and this is happening. At least, I hope that it is.

  “You want this?” I ask, reaching in to turn on the shower head.

  “I want you.”

  “You have me, Jade. But I need to hear you say it. I’m missing you, and this won’t be what I’d hoped for our first time. Maybe I should just shower quickly and meet you in the bedroom?”

  “No. Stop. Orrin, I want you like this. I’ll always remember that our first time together was in a shower because you couldn’t bear to wait any longer. It’s sexy, the way you’re looking at me. The way that you want me. I don’t need the hearts and flowers. I don’t need easy. I just need you.”

  I want to drop to my knees and beg her to give me her forever. Instead, I take her hand and step into the shower. I help her in after me and pull the door closed. My hand slides behind her neck, and I guide her lips to mine. Her palms land on my chest as she steps closer, which causes her bare breasts to press against my chest, and my hard cock to poke her in the stomach.

  She reaches between us and strokes me.

  “Hold that thought, sweetheart.” I step out of the shower and pull the drawer open in the bathroom. I dig around looking for a condom but can’t find one. I open the next drawer, and still nothing. “Shit,” I curse.

  “What’s wrong?” Jade asks.

  I look over to find the shower door still open and my girl with her head tilted back, letting the water wash over her while her eyes are on me. My cock weeps, my heart hammers in my chest, and my aggravation builds.

  “Condom,” I choke out. “I meant to grab some this week and forgot, and I don’t have any. I… fuck.” I run my hands through my wet hair.

  She smiles. “First of all, grab a towel. You’re dripping all over the floor. Second, I picked up a box. I wasn’t sure if you had any, and I know it’s been a tough week for you, and figured we would use them eventually.”

  “I fucking love you.”

  She shakes her head and smiles. “In my bag. I left it in the living room.”

  I point at her. “Don’t move.”

  “I’ll be right here,” she assures me.

  Forgoing the towel, I make a mad dash to the living room, finding her bag. I grab it and haul ass back to my bedroom. “Jade!” I call out, rushing back into the bathroom. “Where are they?” I ask her.

  “Right on top.”

  I unzip the bag and find the box easily. Not wanting to set her bag on the wet floor, I take it back to my room and place it in the bottom of my closet, all while tearing open the box. I grab a small foil packet and toss the rest of the box on the bed.

  By the time I’m back in the bathroom, my cock is covered. I step into the shower, and Jade closes the door behind me. Snaking an arm around her waist, I slip my fingers inside her, wasting no time. “You’re ready for me.” She moans, and her hands reach out for me, her nails digging into my skin.

  “I’ve been ready for you for weeks,” she says cheekily, placing a kiss on my shoulder.

  “I thought your insistence that you go home or that I come home meant you weren’t ready.”

  She shrugs. “I wanted to give us time, but I’m done with that. I need you. I don’t need the foreplay, not this time. I just need you inside me.”

  I grip her waist as I drop a kiss on her lips. “Legs around me,” I command, sliding my hands to the backs of her thighs as I lift her into my arms. “You sure this is what you want?”

  “Orrin, I know why you’re asking. You’re a good man. You’re my man, and that means I’m yours. Trust that if there is something I don’t like, I’ll tell you. You also need to trust that if you don’t fix this ache, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.”

  “While the idea of you doing—” I swallow hard. “—that is sexy as fuck, that’s not how this is going to go. Don’t worry. We’re going to circle back to that,” I assure her.

  Over the chitchat, I press her back against the wall and reach between us, placing my cock at her entrance. We both moan as I slowly push inside her for the first time. “Fuck.” I’m not going to last. I’m about to be a two-pump chump with the woman I love for our first time, and there is nothing I can do about it. “Baby, this is… you’re just… damn, you’re hot and tight, and I’m ready to come,” I ramble.

  “Yes, that. Let’s do that,” she says, resting her head back against the shower wall.

  I pull out and push back in, over and over. I’m relentless in the pursuit of our pleasure. I can feel her pussy start to pulse around my cock, and I know she’s close. I need her there. I don’t know how much longer I’ll last. I slow my pace and slide my hand between us. I massage her clit, one, two, three swipes, and she fires off like a rocket.

  “Orrin!” She calls out my name, and there is no hope for me. I explode inside her, spilling into the condom. My body shakes with pleasure coming down from the most intense orgasm of my life.

  I step away from the cold wall and place her back under the hot spray as I bury my face in her neck. I need to take care of the condom, but damn, I never want to pull out. I just want to live with my cock buried inside of her.

  Eventually, I place her on her feet and make sure she’s steady before removing the condom, pulling open the shower door, and tossing it in the trash can. I help Jade shower, making sure to wash every inch of her body. I take great pleasure in roaming my hands over every inch of her.

  Once I’ve finished, I kiss her soundly, before she steps out leaving me to quickly wash off as well. By the time I shut off the water, it’s turning cold. Pulling open the shower door, I notice that Jade has already cleaned up our dirty clothes and the pile of water I left on the floor. My girl is standing in front of the mirror watching me. She’s wearing a pair of pink and black pajama pants and a blank tank top, sans bra. Her hair is wrapped up in a towel on the top of her head, and without a doubt, she’s never been more beautiful to me. My heart rate spikes just looking at her.

  “You’re beautiful.” The words roll across my tongue, spilling my thoughts.

  She smiles. “I love you too.”

  Stepping out, I grab a towel to dry off. While I’m getting dressed while she brushes out her hair. It’s very much a scene of domesticity, and I couldn’t be happier. Once we’re both finished, we head back to the kitchen to have dinner. Jade sits on my lap while we eat because I’m not ready to let her go. I don’t think that I ever will be. With our bellies full, we fall into bed exhausted, sated, and happier than I’ve ever been. Sleeping with her in my arms is my new favorite pastime. Without a doubt in my mind, I know that I’m holding my future. I can’t wait to build a life with her.

  “Night,” I say, kissing her shoulder.

  “Goodnight.” The room is quiet other than the sound of our even deep breaths. I’m just about to sleep when she asks, “You sure you want me to stay all weekend

  “Sweetheart, I want you to stay always.”

  Forever.

  ALSO BY KAYLEE RYAN

  Thank you for taking the time to read Stay Always.

  Want more from the Kincaid Brothers? Pre-order Stay Over here. Stay Over is Brooks Kincaid’s story

  Available September 13, 2022

  Want to read Deacon and Ramsey’s story? Grab Never with Me.

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  ABOUT KAYLEE RYAN

  New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Kaylee Ryan has been crowned the Queen of Swoon by her readers. With nearly fifty romance books under her belt, she’s known for penning happily ever afters with heart. When she’s not writing, you can find her with a book in her hand or hanging out with her family where she resides in her home state of Ohio.

  THE MATCHMAKER’S MISTAKE

  ANGELA DENISE

  It’s my birthday, so I guess I can cry if I want to…but after everything goes disastrously wrong at my celebration dinner with my twin, I’d rather make out with my enemy. I mean, he’s a known man whore, so I might as well have some fun, right?

  Wrong, because even if I want to hate Cole Garrison, I don’t.

  I’m Holly Mayberry, a professional matchmaker who sucks at love.

  Copyright 2022 by Angela Denise

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Also by Angela Denise

  About Angela Denise

  CHAPTER ONE

  Holly

  “He’s going to ask,” Bryn says.

  I take a second to study her. We’re both dressed up for our birthday dinner, and since we’re fraternal twins—not identical—it’s not conceited of me to say she looks fine as hell in her blue summer dress. Our waiter has given her at least one lingering glance, which suggests I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Still, I know my sister’s smiles like people with bum knees pretend they know the weather, and this one’s brittle.

  She doesn’t look like a woman’s been waiting six years for her boyfriend to grow a pair and pop the question.

  Her boyfriend Matt’s okay. I mean, he’d be fantastic if you happen to like white bread sandwiches filled with mayonnaise and potato chips. I don’t, I guess, because the thought is enough to make me lose my appetite, and I shove my appetizer plate away. The food’s good, too, dammit. We’re at Salt and Bone, one of Highland Hills’s best restaurants in my humble opinion, mainly because the tourists haven’t discovered it yet. The name could use some work, but no one thought to consult me.

  Bryn frowns at me. “You said you were hungry. The word ‘starving’ was used.”

  I force a smile. “It’s our birthday dinner. I’ll accept nothing less than three courses. I’m playing the long game.”

  She doesn’t seem convinced, which makes sense, since I’m not the sort to ignore food now for the prospect of food later.

  I don’t think she should marry Matt. There’s a more significant problem than his similarity to unappetizing food: she wants kids, and he doesn’t. Personally, I want to have kids as much as I want to eat that white bread sandwich, but if that’s what she wants, she shouldn’t settle.

  “You’re being weird about Matt,” Bryn says, her gaze narrowing on me.

  “And you’re being confrontational.” I wave at the set up in front of us, the appetizer platter, the two glasses of wine, the delicious bread basket I’m going to ask the server to refill at least twice. “This is a celebration. Let’s celebrate.”

  Bryn sets down the fork she was playing with, which is not a good omen.

  “You think I should ask him about kids again before I say yes.”

  “Well, yes,” I say slowly, hoping it’ll give her the chance to really hear what she’s saying. “Typically it’s good to want the same things as the man you’re about to marry.”

  She pushes her appetizer plate away too.

  “I’d hoped you’d be happy for me.”

  “I’ll be happy for you if you’re happy,” I say pointedly, because I’m far from sure she is. She’s comfortable enough, sure. She’s fond of him. But she’s not head-over-heels in love with him. Never has been.

  She rolls her eyes. “You’re not even interested in dating anyone for more than a few weeks. Of course you think I’m making the safe choice.”

  She’s not wrong.

  There’s only one boy who ever made me question that decision, and I say boy, because this was back in high school, before I developed any street smarts and a shellacked coating to my heart. I tilt my head, studying her. “Pretty ironic considering we’re professional matchmakers, huh? Maybe I should consider a new day job.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she grumbles.

  “Yes, you did. You sound like Nana.” Our grandmother likes to pretend she’s taken a backstage role in our family matchmaking company, Mayberry Matchmakers, but she does her damnedest to insert herself into every decision, large or small. Case and point: Bryn and I came up with a fabulous, if I do say so myself, idea for a matchmaking app that would mimic the matchmaking experience. Our A.I. matchmaker would be like a friendly guide, making the whole online thing seem more accessible—kind of like getting set up by a knowledgeable friend. Anyway, Nana forbade us from shopping the idea around, and since she owns the brand, we were screwed. Which means we spend our days rewriting—and sometimes completely fabricating—people’s online dating profiles and setting up gimmicky speed dating events in an attempt to keep our dying business on life support.

  Like I said, the worst.

  Besides, Nana seems determined to tell me at least ten times a day that my fertile years have almost passed me by. To which I usually respond with something like, Promise? You’d think Bryn would get a pass given she has a partner, but Nana’s nitpicking knows no end. She has a vocabulary of different withering looks she rolls out for different occasions. It makes me jealous of our younger sisters, Willow and Ivy, who left Highland Hills as soon as they could. Our brother Rowan is still here, stuck like we are, although he’s skillfully avoided the orbital pull of Nana and Mayberry Matchmakers.

  I’m a self-taught programmer, and I make most of my money from side hustles. Truth is, I could quit the family business in half a heartbeat. I would, too, and without any regret, but I don’t want to leave Bryn.

  If I leave, I worry she really will become like our grandmother.

  “That’s a shitty thing to say,” Bryn says, frowning.

  She’s right, but she started it.

  Yes, I’m a second grader in an adult’s body.

  “Granted. But I didn’t say Matt was a safe choice, Bryn. You did.” I pause, then figure screw it, might as well go for broke. “Personally, I don’t see what’s safe about marrying a man who’s already told you he’s not going to give you what you’ve always wanted.”

  I regret the words immediately, because it’s obvious I’ve ruined our dinner. Bryn isn’t the sort to cry or carry on when she’s upset, though. She’s much more likely to get pissed.

  Her gaze cuts into me. “It’s my choice.”

  I lift my hands. “Obviously. Proceed. You’re not the only one who likes white bread sandwiches. I’ve heard they’re comfort food for some folks.”

  Dammit. Did I say that out loud?

  “Are you calling Matt—”

  “I’ve gotta go to the bathroom,” I say, practically leaping out of my chair and throwing my napkin at my plate. “You know me and my trick bladder.”

  I don’t even know what that means, but Bryn just scowls. I take it as permission to leave, so I skedaddle past the bar to the bathrooms.

  Once inside, I use the facilities since I’m there, then stare at myself in the mirror. “You done fucked up, Holly,” I say. “You have to apologize.”

  I don’t want to. I’d much rather convince my sister to say no to Matt. But she’s right. It’s her choice to make.

  “More like her mistake to make,” I mutter.

  A polished blond woman emerges from one of the stalls. I don’t recognize her, not even a little, so maybe the tourists have finally caught the scent of Salt and Bone. Dammit. I figured we had at least another couple of months before that happened. She sees me and then frowns, glancing around to find whatever mysterious person I might have been talking to.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I was giving myself a little pep talk.”

  Her expression doesn’t ease. Oh, so she’s one of those people who don’t talk to themselves.

  “My sister’s about to make a really big mistake, is all,” I say. “Her soon-to-be fiancé is a white bread sandwich, and…”

  The woman’s eyes widen just as she was about to put her hands under the faucet. She gives it a longing look but then scuttles out of the bathroom without washing her hands.

  A chuckle escapes me. “Some people are too literal.”

  I’m feeling a little better, which probably says a lot about me as a person, when I leave the bathroom. It lasts for about as long as it takes for me to notice him.

  Cole Garrison.

  My nemesis.

  The man whom I’ve wanted, to my great annoyance, since high school.

  He’s sitting at the bar alone, which is a shocker. He’s a single parent who owns and runs a brewery. When he’s not working or doing whatever it is parents do, he’s always with a different woman. He’s been notorious for it ever since his wife died six years ago.

 

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