his usual warm smile gracing his face. Instead of his typical button down and dress pants, he’s in jeans and a tee shirt. Casual but sexy. He gestures for me to come in, stepping aside so I can pass him. I see his dog, Cap, standing outside the kitchen, his tail wagging hesitantly. “Cap’s a big brute. He acts tough but he’s sweet. You’ll see.”
Carter closes the door and brushes a chaste kiss against my cheek before grabbing ahold of my hand and bringing me into the kitchen. Whatever he’s cooking smells delicious and watching him check the pan positioned in the oven and stir what’s in one of the pots on the stovetop has me biting my bottom lip in awe.
“It smells good,” I compliment quietly.
“I’m making lemon chicken pasta.” He puts the lid onto the pot and turns to me, asking if I want anything to drink. I just shake my head and notice his dog peeking out from the narrow hall off the kitchen. “She won’t bite, Cap. You can come out.”
I fight a smile as his dog pads over to him, looking at me with a tilted head. Wiggling my fingers over the horse-sized creature and then reaching my hand out to let him sniff me, he takes a few steps forward before his tongue darts out. It doesn’t take long before we’re buddies, his body not leaving my side as I pet him while Carter continues to cook.
“How was the drive over?” he asks.
My thoughts still linger from earlier, the back of my neck heating. I fight off the blush that wants to creep into my cheeks and think I manage to do so. “It was fine. Traffic was busy.”
“Weekend traffic is usually heavier.”
Our small talk lasts until he’s putting our food together, sprinkling garnish on top of the two plates of pasta and chicken. My mouth waters at the sight of it, but not as much as when he looks at me and says, “I like you standing in my house.”
Not expecting those words, I swallow down my surprise. His eyes pierce the dressy buttoned maroon blouse I chose to pair with my looser skinny jeans, traveling down my body like he’s memorizing this moment when I’m in his space. Not his classroom, not his office, and not some public restaurant far enough from campus where people can’t ask questions, but close enough to home where it doesn’t feel like hiding.
Being in his house feels intimate. Him cooking me dinner feels domesticated. Everything about the way he takes me in as I stand in his personal bubble jumpstarts my heart. We lock eyes when he finally finds his gaze back on my face, and I’m not sure what gets into me. A lot. Nothing at all.
I’m conflicted.
About life.
About love.
About them.
I walk over to him and place one of my palms over his beating heart, feeling his body heat radiate into my skin from where it rests on his soft cotton shirt. He looks down at me, his eyes heating as I step closer until he presses a hand into my lower back, pressing us closer together.
He says my name quietly as I stand on my tiptoes and brush my lips against his. It’s timid, unsure, barely lasting a few seconds before I draw away and watch his reaction. One of his hands cups my cheek, his thumb caressing my bottom lip, as his other hand finds my hip. When he bends down to meet my lips, there’s nothing unsure in the way he kisses me.
His lips are firm yet soft as they explore mine, deepening the kiss when he angles my head to the side. Teasing the seam of my lips with his tongue, I open for him and relish in the taste of his favorite sweet tea. My arms go around his neck as I nip his bottom lip and thread my fingers into his short hair. He makes a sound that I mirror as the hand on my cheek slowly trails down my side until it rests on my other hip, his fingertips kneading at the denim covering me.
I pull him closer, my pelvis arching into his until I feel him harden. He groans and I shiver, goosebumps covering my skin as he kisses me without reserve. Holding me to him, I soak up the feeling. Nobody can catch us, can scold us, can threaten us with punishment for having this moment. I blissfully absorb it all.