Almost Matched (Almost Bad Boys) (10 page)

His lips touch mine, and my mouth parts. I feel his sculpted, hard body pressing onto me. I circle his neck with my arms and stand on tiptoes, wishing I wore high heels today. Colin’s tongue gently slides between my lips, and a shiver runs down my chest, continuing south, all the way to between my thighs. I welcome this sweet, sensual feeling he’s giving me. His fingers entwine in my hair at the back of my head, and his other hand slowly strokes between my shoulder blades.
 

Kissing Colin is like nothing I’ve ever experienced with anyone before. His kiss is gentle, but with underlying firmness that stirs hot desire inside me. It is a promise of what awaits me soon, and, honestly, I’m considering breaking my fourth-date rule. Right now, right here. Wow, where the heck did that come from, Natalie? Get ahold of yourself before you embarrass both of you.
 

I pull out of this amazingly sensual kiss and smile at Colin. He smiles back and whispers surreptitiously, “I want to take you somewhere tomorrow.”

“Oh?” I grin. “Where?”

“I will think of something fun.”
 

“Wait, you want to go
somewhere
tomorrow, but you don’t even have an idea where?” I laugh. What’s the urgency?
 

“Yep. I want to get through the third date, so we can move onto the forth one.” His grin is wicked. Totally wicked!

“Ah, that.” I smirk and roll my eyes. But at this moment I feel almost glad he’s trying to rush things forward.
 

“Yes.
That.
I can’t think of anything else but you,” he professes.
 

Wow, this confession is a bit of a shocker.
 

He grins, probably in response to my dumbfounded expression. “Is this so scandalous?”
 

I put my palms on his chiseled chest, feeling the scrumptious ridges under his shirt. And then his heartbeat adds to the mouthwatering sensation. God, I want to undo his buttons right here.
Natalie!
I scold myself and take a deep composing breath. Geez, this is all new to me. I don’t ever remember anyone turning me on with just the smallest detail.
 

“Scandalous? Why, Mr. Hampton. I hardly even know you.” I feign indignation.
 

He throws his head back and laughs. I can’t help it but laugh with him. When he looks back at me there is something so sexually charged in his gaze that my knees are about to give out. But he holds me tight so, thank heavens, I won’t make a fool of myself.
 

“Yes, Miss Davenport, you have a good point. I want to remedy that little obstacle and spend more time with you, so we feel comfortable with each other for our date number four.”
 

“Hmm. I see.” I nod, pretending to consider. “That sounds like a plan.”

“Glad you see it that way.” Colin inclines his head. One corner of his mouth lifts up just a notch. Oh-uoh, there it is—that little, sexy smile that makes me melt inside. How does he do that to me?
 

“Let’s find a good place to eat.” He takes my hand in his.
 

“Wild Ginger possibly?” I suggest.

“Not a bad choice,” he agrees.
 

We walk to the restaurant and get a table almost immediately. Lucky us. The place smells wonderful, as always, and I realize I’m ravenous. Too many items on the menu appeal to my taste today, so I quickly choose the curry seabass with mango salad and a glass of Pinot Noir. Colin decides on the cinnamon and spice anise duck with a sweet plum sauce and pairs it with a glass of a heavier Cabernet.
 

I start feeling anxious. Are we moving too fast? Am I making yet another mistake? The last thing I want is to get hurt again. I like Colin. I really do like him a lot, but I hope he doesn’t take my earlier joking with him about the third date as a “go ahead” to move things faster.
 

As if reading my mind he takes my hand in his and kisses my knuckles. He says, “I hope by now you know my somehow raw sense of humor. When I said I want to rush through the next date to get to the fourth one, it wasn’t because all I want from you is sex. I’m truly attracted to you. I want to get to know you, and I want you to feel comfortable and secure with me. I would never do anything to jeopardize that.”

I look at Colin. He’s so beautiful—not just handsome, but beautiful, with his blue eyes and long eye lashes, with his black-as-coal hair, carelessly tousled, with his wide shoulders and strong body. His lips are soft and sensual, and his cheekbones are high. And he wants to be mine; just mine! I know I want this. I want us to be together; to be happy. So why there is always something weird nagging at the corner of my mind? I realize that I am paranoid by all my past bad experiences with guys, but I can’t keep that wall around me. I need to let Colin in; I must take this chance.
 

I squeeze his hand and say, “I really like you too. I want to try… but I’m…” Argh. And there it is—that awful fear of getting hurt again.
Stop that, Natalie!
I inwardly chastise myself and continue, trying to keep my voice from trembling. I fail. I sound scared and so freakin’ unsure of myself when I tell him, “It’s not that I don’t want to get things going. And I understand you are just trying to make things fun and easy for me. I really like it. But just bear with me. Let me take small steps, so we do this right.”

He clutches both of my hands in his. Our elbows are on the table, and we are facing each other. I rest my forehead against our gripped hands. My fingers are cold, but his are warm against my skin. I welcome the soothing sensation of that warmth. It makes me feel wanted and cherished. His warm skin…
 

I lift my head and look at him. A tiny smile adorns his lips, and his eyes sparkle in the candlelight. He nods and lets my hands go. Momentarily I feel at loss, but he quickly reaches for me and pulls my face toward his.
 

When our foreheads touch, I hear him say very quietly, “I understand. And I will do exactly how you want me to do this. Take a lead, Natalie. I want you to trust me as much as I want to always trust you.”

I put my hands on both sides of his face and kiss him passionately. He inhales sharply and deepens the kiss. Everything inside me twists and spirals, and my heart start to hammer in my chest. I want this man so badly, but I must be cautious. I feel that I can trust him; that all he just said is true; but old habits die hard, so I cannot push myself too fast past my boundaries. We will do this my way, and I’m at ease that he understands and agrees.
 

The waiter brings our wine, and we pull away from the kiss. Colin kisses my hand once more, and then hands me my glass. We clink the glasses and smile at each other.
 

“To the second date,” he says.
 

“And to all that follows,” I add shyly.
 

EIGHT

“
[Dancing is] a perpendicular expression of a horizontal desire.”

George Bernard Shaw.

I’m nervous, but happy. This is going to be my fourth date with Colin. FOURTH! And, so far, there are no signs of anything going sideways. He’s been attentive and perceptive, never brash or demanding. I really like that. Just as he promised me last week after we visited the photography exhibition, he doesn’t do anything to make me uncomfortable or rushed. I start to feel more and more relaxed with him. I take one tiny step forward after the next toward letting him into my world. But that will take more than the date number four and what it is supposed to end up with.
 

Our third date was totally casual. We had dinner at Seastar Restaurant in Belltown, and then drove to The Harvard Exit Theater on Capitol Hill, within walking distance from my condo. It was my idea, and Colin loved it. He’s never been to The Harvard Exit. The theater is old and definitely has character, unlike the mainstream ones. We purchased some popcorn to share, and it arrived with
real
butter and not some artificial goop. I took Colin upstairs, where the balconies are. There were plenty of seats in the front row of the balcony, and we ended up with nobody close by. He held my hand and drew slow circles with his fingers over it, which caused my heart rate to speed up, and my concentration on the movie somehow wavered.
 

Tonight he invited me to his house. He’s cooking dinner. This is impressive, because I can’t cook anything besides a hardboiled egg or spaghetti with sauce from a jar. But for all I know, we might be eating spaghetti with store-bought sauce tonight. And that’s just fine by me. I don’t expect him to prepare anything fancy. I’m just giddy to spend time with him.
 

I drove to the address he gave me and parked in front of what I assumed was his house. Quite nice, two-story home in Newcastle—not very big, but neat, with a well-groomed lawn and a fresh coat of paint on the walls. I ring the bell, and Colin opens the door.
 

“You made it. Come in.” He smiles and tugs me into a tight hug.
 

“Hi. Great house.” I step over the threshold. Soft music is playing somewhere in the back.
 

He helps me take my coat off and hangs it in a closet by the door. “Thank you.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Just under a year. Got tired of living in my Edmonds condo. The commute was killing me.”

We walk to the kitchen. I smell something delicious, like some roasted meat with vegetables. He tells me that he prepared honey-cashew chicken over wild rice with basil sauce, and caramelized grilled vegetables.

“Wow. I’m impressed,” I admit. I really am.
 

“Nah, it’s nothing. I like to cook, but it’s not fun cooking just for myself.” He waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “What would you like to drink?”

“What do you recommend?”

“Definitely wine. You said you’re not crazy about white wine, so how about red? Cabernet or Pinot?” Colin lifts two bottles to show me. I’m unfamiliar with either of them, but I choose Pinot. The white label says Marimar Estate.
 

“Good choice. This one is still dense, but not as full-bodied as the Aurielle.” He points to the Cabernet bottle. “It should go well with our dinner.” He uncorks the wine and pours the deep, dark-red liquid into two large goblets. He gives me one glass and picks up the second for himself.
 

We smile at each other. My heart decides to flip and flop, and then boing-boing, causing my hands to shake. I lean my back against the kitchen counter, and sniff the appetizing aroma of my wine. Colin drinks his wine, his eyes on me. I take a sip too.
 

“Very tasty,” I admit. The flavor explodes in my mouth—delicate notes of pomegranate and black cherry with hints of orange peel. The velvet-like fluid gently coats my throat, making me want to try more.
 

“Glad you like it, Natalie.” The way he pronounces my name makes me shiver in anticipation. Crap, this
is
our fourth date.

Suddenly, I feel almost like a teenage virgin, all flustered and unsure of herself. I think Colin notices. He proceeds to explain what went into the chicken dish and the sauce. This must be his way of trying to make me less tense. And it’s working. I listen with interest while he explains the process.
 

He takes me to the table, and I sit down. Colin lights the candles and dims the overhead lights. He goes back to the kitchen and soon brings two plates with food: honey-colored chunks of chicken with bits of cashews sprinkled over them. The chicken is arranged over small mounds of wild rice. A few pieces of grilled carrots, green and yellow zucchini, and I think sweet potatoes add color to the already mouth-watering display. Hell on wheels, the guy can cook!

I’m famished. I should have had lunch today, but I got too busy in the office. If I planned better, I could have brought leftovers from home. The wine is already happily dancing in my head. I better slow down.
 

“Go ahead.” Colin sits close to me and points to my plate.
 

“This looks and smells like heaven.” I inhale, closing my eyes for a brief moment.
 

He refills my wine glass. “Let’s hope it tastes as good as it looks.”

“I honestly have no doubt that it does. But I will let you know,” I say, loading my fork with rice and chicken.