If I Could - B. Celeste Page 0,74

One single look can show everybody what I haven’t verbally said already. That I’m lost in a man who walked into my life so unexpectedly, and confidently took my heart as his.

So, softly with the temptation of curling a hand behind his head and drawing him to my lips, I say, “You’ve impressed me enough for three lifetimes by now.”

His throat bobs. “Good to know.”

I never thought I’d see the day when Ren is more nervous than I am, but his knee has been bouncing under the table ever since we were seated, and his eyes dart around the room like he’s trying to take it all in. Admittingly, it’s nice.

Preparing for our first official date had me reverting back to my teen years when I had to watch my older sister try on clothes for hours leading up to one of her casual summer flings, and I never understood why until now. I tried on four different outfits needing to look my best before settling on a pair of navy pants and a white button down that Lawrence complimented me many times on for ‘showing off my toned body.’ I don’t look that different compared to school days, but I put effort into styling my messy blond hair that’s in need of a trim, put on some cologne that my mother gave me for Christmas last year, and rolled the sleeves of my shirt to my elbows and left the top three buttons undone.

It’s only been a day since we fooled around in the kitchen after my proclamation, ate slightly burnt mushroom ravioli with wine, and then went to my bedroom and fooled around some more before talking about school, the upcoming break, my classroom mural, and our plans with Della and her fiancé this weekend. Not once does he bring up the fact that I haven’t gone down on him yet, or how I freeze up whenever his fingers linger to my backside when he’s kneading and massaging my ass as he sucks me off. It isn’t because I don’t want to go farther, I’m just afraid to, and admitting that still feels embarrassing enough where I clam up instead.

I had every intention of telling him about Adam after he swallowed my cum, kissed me, and cuddled me into his very naked side in bed, but the words were jammed in my throat. Bringing up how the only other experience I had with a guy lasted approximately ten minutes, and only included dry humping, making out, and over the clothes heavy petting on my behalf didn’t seem like the best after-orgasm conversation and having it now in the middle of a busy restaurant seems even less appropriate.

Deciding to lighten the mood, I say, “The last time I came here, it was when I took my parents out when they visited for Mother’s Day. We had brunch.” It’s Mom’s favorite meal. Growing up, we’d have breakfast for every meal if we wanted it—Dad made the best omelets and Mom was the best at cooking chocolate chip pancakes on the griddle.

“That sounds nice.” Even though I can tell it’s a genuine statement, paired with the stretch of a warm smile across his tan face, I can tell something else is on his mind.

“What’s wrong?” When he starts looking around again, I shift in my chair and tug on my collar thinking it’s about me. What if he regrets taking me out? What if he changes his mind? What if—

“This is the first time I’ve done something like this,” the sheepish admission cuts off my derailing thoughts, one that has his attention fully on me.

“I thought you dated…?”

He wets his lips slowly, wrapping his fingers around the glass of water to stall. “I did, but it was usually to a bar or club or something. Never dinner. Dinners were too intimate, and I didn’t want that with anybody else, which—” Cringing, he shakes his head. “I sound like a tool, huh? I don’t know, Reece, I just couldn’t picture myself sitting across from somebody and having anything to share with them that they’d want to hear.”

Head slanting, I study him as he sips his water, wondering how someone couldn’t be interested in hearing about him. Hell, I know a lot already, and I crave more. Like what his favorite childhood memory is, and why his favorite subject is history. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t want to know about him, and the glorious thing about the chiseled man wrapped in lean, tan