Rate a Date by Monica Murphy Page 0,39

totally went there. I bet he’s big. Look at him!

Pushing my sex on the brain thoughts, I take him for a short tour around the suite, though I keep it strictly downstairs. Checking out bedrooms might lead to other things, and I don’t want him to think I’m that type of girl on the first date. Even though I’m dying to be that type of girl right now.

Yep. Dying to.

We end up in the kitchen, and he grabs a bottle of cold water out of the fridge. I do the same. We admire the artwork on the walls and I eye the couch, wondering if we should settle in. Naughty things could happen there too, and I’m tempted to make the suggestion. My friends aren’t here yet. We could indulge in a naughty thing or two.

Kissing. That’s all I’m thinking of. Kissing and wandering hands. Maybe hands could slip beneath clothes. Maybe long, thick fingers could slip beneath my panties too…

Focus! No sex! Not yet!

I hate the nagging voice in my head. Really I do.

We find ourselves standing in front of the pool table, and I watch dazedly as Mitch runs his big hand across the vibrant purple felt that covers the table, almost as if he’s caressing it.

I wonder what it would feel like, to have his big hands caressing me.

“You play pool?” he asks, his deep, rumbling voice washing over me.

“Never.”

“I haven’t played since college.” He shrugs. “Don’t have enough time anymore.”

“It looks boring,” I admit. “Though this table is pretty.”

“Looks pretty sturdy.” Mitch reaches out and grips the edge of the sleek wooden edge of the table.

He could be talking to me. Like I thought earlier, I’m a sturdy girl.

“Think it could handle our weight?” I ask.

His head jerks in my direction, his eyes wide as he stares at me for a few seconds too long. As if he’s trying to figure me out. “What do you mean?” he asks slowly.

“I mean, if we were both to crawl on top of that table, could it handle our weight?” I wave a hand at it, surprised by what I’m suggesting.

But yep. I’m not backing down. I put it out there. Let’s see what he does with it.

He considers me for a moment, his hand going to his jaw and giving it a slow stroke. I wish I could touch him like that.

“Let’s try it out and see.” Without warning, he reaches for me and hauls me into his arms. A shriek escapes me when I’m lifted into the air, and I clasp the back of his neck, holding onto him for dear life, afraid he might drop me.

Men don’t just haul me around. This sort of thing doesn’t happen to me.

But no. I’m going nowhere. This man has a firm grip on me, and he settles my butt onto the edge of the pool table, though he’s still standing directly in front of me. And I’ve got my arms wrapped around his neck. Our chests are nestled close. My legs are spread, the skirt of my dress hiking up my thighs and he’s standing right in between them.

We are very, very close. And I just know…

Very, very naughty things are about to happen.

“Are you drunk?” he asks, his gaze meeting mine.

I stare up at him and slowly shake my head. “Maybe just a little.”

“I usually don’t take advantage of drunk women,” he murmurs, his head dipping closer.

I plunge my fingers into his silky soft hair, urging him closer. “I don’t take advantage of drunk men either.”

He chuckles, and the sound vibrates smack between my legs. “I am far from drunk, Eleanor.”

I like hearing his rough, deep voice say my name. I like everything about this man.

“I’m not that drunk,” I say. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

He raises his brows. “Do you now?”

“Yeah, I do. You should join me on this table,” I whisper.

This low growling noise sounds from deep in his chest and then his mouth is on mine, stealing my breath. The kiss starts out simple. Just a press of lips on lips. But I tug on his hair and shift my body closer to his, and he opens his mouth. Parts my lips with his tongue.

And then somehow, we’re devouring each other.

Thank God no one is here to see us, because I am making an absolute fool of myself for this man. I just want more. More kissing. More tongue. More big hands. More growling. I like the growling. It’s actually really sexy.

Who knew?

I’m pulling