of popcorn, holding up the bucket.
And fuck, she was cute.
Again.
He took a handful, shoved it in his mouth, and then, not so casually, slid his arm around her shoulders. She glanced up at him, the flicker of amusement telling him she was well-aware of what he was doing, but she didn’t comment, just shifted a little closer, her shoulder tucking under his.
And his cock twitched.
No, not twitched.
It went hard.
And he was wearing fucking sweatpants.
Carefully, he took the bucket and shifted it over to his lap, covering his erection and knowing that he was a fucking pervert when the barest touch of her shoulder to his caused his dick to flare to attention.
“Thief,” she accused lightly, but she didn’t move or take the popcorn back.
Thank fuck.
Instead, she continued eating and then offered him a piece of KitKat.
He took it, nibbled as she devoured three-quarters of the pack. “You going to puke in my car later?”
Her head tilted against his arm, ponytail a silken sheet on his bare skin. Lips curving, she stared up at him. “I’ve been told I resemble a Hoover.”
“As in the vacuum?”
Her mouth tipped up further. “Exactly.”
“And no post-vacuuming puking?”
Her smile didn’t fade. “None,” she murmured, and then it did. “Ben?” she asked quietly as the lights had gone down.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for this.”
Now, he was the one who was smiling. “You’re welcome,” he said softly, brushing her hair off her face, tucking a strand behind her ear.
She’d been riveted.
Absolutely riveted by the movie, so focused on the story that he’d missed most of it. Because he’d been too absorbed with her. The soft gasps when the tension grew taut, the music building, some plot point blaring to life and making her jump in his arms. The way she cried when one of the main characters died. How she rested against him and sighed in happiness when the spaceship made it back to Earth, most of the crew intact.
Then the credits were rolling, and she was sitting up, and he hated that she’d left him, even though it was just to gather up her trash, even though she was still there, just two feet away. But not in his arms.
Because he liked her there.
“Have you sobered up?” he asked as the lights came back on and they began moving up the aisle.
Her ponytail fluttered behind her as she turned her head to look at him. “Yes.” A frown. “Why?”
“If so, I can drive you back to your car,” he offered. “That way, you don’t have to get a ride in the morning.”
Was that a flicker of disappointment over her face?
It was there and gone faster than he could process it, and then she was walking again. “Oh, okay,” she whispered, and he barely heard her. But he did hear the sad creep into her tone, and yes, the disappointment that had his stomach clenching tight. “That would be great, actually.”
One arm held the empty popcorn container, along with her nearly empty cup of soda, his nearly full one, and the candy wrappers.
But he had one arm free.
And that was the one he wrapped around Stef’s waist, the one he used to draw her back against him, to turn her so every inch of those curves were pressed to him, her breath puffing against his lips.
“What are you doing?” she breathed.
“First date.”
Her brows lifted, but she melted against him, and he was hard again, nearly shaking with the need to claim her mouth.
“What is?” she asked. “Do you want to go out—”
“Kiss,” he managed, desire making it difficult to form words. But he’d managed that one, and it was a fucking relief.
“Kiss?”
“Yes. Kiss,” he said, and through some herculean effort managed to add, “I’m going to kiss you.” He slid his hand up, between her shoulder blades, and weaved it into her hair, probably screwing up her ponytail but unable to summon a care. Not when her lips were right there.
Not when she pressed closer.
Not when she took the bucket from him and dropped it to the floor.
“Okay then,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck and raising onto tiptoe. “Then kiss me.”
Ben lowered his head, slanted his lips across hers, and felt . . .
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
No, not nothing. It was . . . peace and coming home and a dark, starlit sky on a summer evening. It was even and steady and balanced—
Stef moaned, her lips parting, her tongue darting out to touch the seam of his mouth.
And the world exploded—or at least his did. He was staring straight