The blend scorches my blood as his closeness sends the boiling fluid to forgotten parts of my body. I whimper as my insides painfully clench, and my thighs press tightly together.
Though I want to hide my reaction to his kiss, to his touch...I fear I don't.
What I really want to do is push my hips closer and allow more of our bodies to touch. It's been so long since I've felt this way, so long since I've wanted...really wanted.
Malcolm's spicy scent surrounds me as it merges with musk. Suddenly, I'm blinded in his cloud.
When we finally pull apart, before I can speak or even contemplate what happened, Malcolm's blue eyes shine down on me, taking me in and reading me.
His voice rumbles through the background commotion of the bar. “You taste like sweet wine and smell like perfume and desire.”
Warmth fills my cheeks. “You taste like good beer.”
“Good? You're a beer connoisseur?”
I shrug. “Mostly, I know cheap beer.”
He lifts my chin, bringing his indigo eyes into focus. The room disappears, making those blue orbs all I can see.
“I'm a connoisseur,” he says as his thumb gently rubs over my bruised lips. “And you, beautiful Mandy, if you were a beer, would never be a cheap one. No, you're a rich custom craft brew. I see it in your eyes, feel it in your touch, and smell it in the air. Kissing a stranger isn't something you do, is it?”
I try to move my eyes away, but Malcolm's grip of my chin is unrelenting. Meeting his gaze, I reply, “No. I won't even bore you with how long it's been since I've kissed a real man.”
His eyes sparkle. “You kiss fake men?”
“Boys. Well, only one actually.”
“You kiss boys...” And then, as if the reality of his statement hits home, he asks, “You have a son?”
My heart flutters, its speed increasing by the second. “I do, but I don't want to talk about him. Not because he isn't important for he is—he's my world—but because tonight isn't about him. It's about me.” I can't gauge Malcolm's reaction. I can only guess that he's assuming that I'm some needy woman trying to get a man to take on the responsibility of a kid who isn't his.
I reach out and splay my fingers over his chest. His heart is beating to match mine. “I don't want to talk about him,” I continue, “because he'll never know about you—I'll never tell him and never introduce you. Don't worry. I'm not after a man to rescue me. I'm perfectly content with my life as a mother. I just wanted to remember what it felt like to be a woman...for just one night.”
“I'm not anti-children—”
I shake my head. “Stop. That doesn't matter.” It’s then that I notice the filled glasses on the table and laugh. “When did the waitress come?”
Malcolm bows his head until our noses touch. He inhales deeply, his eyes closing as his hand falls to my lap. “I'd say just after you.”
More heat floods my cheeks. “I-I didn't...”
“Then we need to do something about that.” He looks again at the full glasses. “I think the drinks came while my tongue was busy getting to know your sweet mouth.” His hand splays over my thigh.
My breathing hitches. “Malcolm?”
“You said you want one night. One night doesn't end with a kiss. It begins with one.”
Ignoring his lingering touch, I reach for my menu. As I do, Malcolm lifts my glass of wine with his free hand and brings it to my lips. “Drink, beautiful Mandy. You have secrets to spill, and we only have one night to do it.”
I sip the sweet, fruity liquid, its alcohol going straight to my head. Or is it the kiss, the closeness, or just Malcolm?
“You know,” I say as I turn his direction, “I had a blind date tonight with a man with issues. The poor guy may be here somewhere, and I'm standing him up.”
Malcolm's fingers move higher up my thigh as he shrugs. “Poor shmuck. His issues will probably get worse.”
“I'm not sure I can handle that responsibility.”
Malcolm laughs. “So you're saying that you wish you were with that guy?”
I don't have to think to respond—not that I could with his fingers moving closer to my arousal. I don't want to be anywhere—not with Sally and Brian, not with their friend Pep. For the first time since, well, for too long, I feel alive. I'm with the person fate intended and I'm not complaining. “No. I think fate