Full Contact (Worth the Fight #2) - Sidney Halston Page 0,15

of a hot and heavy make-out session. His free hand cupped her breasts over a silver camisole, while the other squeezed her waist. His mouth was on her neck, lips, collarbone. Her hands fisted his shirt, and she couldn’t help but moan when he nibbled the sensitive area behind her ear.

“Baby,” Slade said between nibbles, “you feel so good.”

Even through the dim light, Jessica could see him fighting his resolve to take it slow. He pulled away and planted a kiss on her neck, then nose, and finally lips before lifting her and moving her next to him.

“Are you okay?” His husky voice came out even huskier. His blue eyes shone with lust. His black hair stood in all directions, evidence of her mauling.

“Um…yeah. Super fine.” She looked at him as if he were crazy. Why the hell was he stopping?

He laughed at her expression, tapped her nose, and stood up from the couch. He adjusted his pants, which looked uncomfortably tight around the crotch area, and ran his palm over his face. Then he reached his hand down to her. Jessica’s brows creased as she put her hand in his. He pulled till she was on her feet. “Don’t look at me like that.” He kissed her cheek and walked to her kitchen.

“Like what?”

“Like I just kicked your puppy.”

“Why’d you stop?” she whined. “I do kinda feel like you kicked my puppy. Actually, like you kicked my vagina.”

Slade had just put a glass of water to his lips to sip, but a laugh erupted from his mouth, causing him to spit water everywhere. “Oh my God, Jess. I can’t believe you just said that.” She grabbed a paper towel and wiped the water dripping from his chin and shirt and then mopped up the wet counter.

“Well, it’s true.”

“For the record, I’d never kick your vagina.”

“I’d hope not.” She smiled a little devilish smile.

When he had sufficiently caught his breath, Slade reached for plates and began serving them Chinese food. “Why are those in the garbage?” Slade asked, pointing to a small bunch of sunflowers that she’d tossed in the trash.

“I hate sunflowers. Hate them. They give me allergies. Someone left them by my front door. Probably meant for my neighbor, but she’s out of town, so I tossed them.”

Slade shrugged as he continued to portion out the food. It felt nice to see him so comfortable in her house. “Jess, this was our second date. We did a lot more than you’re supposed to do on a second date.”

She snorted. “What? I think we’re past proper dating etiquette. I’ve known you for months. We’ve even lived together. You’ve seen me mostly naked.”

Jessica sat up on the counter next to him. She looked over at his plate, then at hers, and smiled. There was a small mountain of fried rice and noodles on his plate, three egg rolls, and some other thing she didn’t recognize. On her plate sat an egg roll and some rice. His appetite was as big as the man himself.

“So…second date, huh?”

With a mouthful of food, he nodded and swallowed, then took a swig of beer. He winked. “You’re kinda slutty, babe. I think we passed first and second base.” She dropped her egg roll on her plate and looked at him, her eyes wide open. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then went back to eating.

When they were done and she had cleaned up, they sat back on the couch and he started the movie. That was the last thing she remembered.

—

Her alarm went off, and she jackknifed up, confused. She lifted the sheets and looked down at her body. She had on the same T-shirt she had been wearing last night, but her jeans were gone; she was only in panties. She looked around the room.

By the alarm clock sat a note: You fell asleep on our second date. You owe me a third date…and third base. —S.

She smiled and plopped back into bed, her eyes focused on the ceiling fan as it went round and round, a big goofy grin on her face.

She couldn’t help but remember how persistent Slade had been, asking her out repeatedly, weeks before she became a domestic violence statistic. She thought back on the night that had changed everything. It had been a slightly cool evening. Cool for Tarpon Springs meant seventy-five degrees, but she remembered that she’d been wearing a sapphire-blue tank top and jeans. She’d rubbed her chilled arms as she