Deck the Fire Halls

Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

ROB

“What do you mean he said no?”

Hamish kind of yelled it, making a few of the kids in the center all stop and look over at where me, Gunter, and Hamish were standing by the pamphlet rack.

I’d brought in some more health pamphlets from the clinic and surprised myself by how easily I spilled my troubles.

I spoke in a much lower tone. “He said no,” I repeated. “He walked me home, I asked him if he wanted to come in, and he said no.”

They both stared at me. Gunter with sincerity. Hamish with possible anger? “The hell is wrong with him?”

Yep. Anger.

“He’s allowed to say no.” I shrugged. “I was so embarrassed. He tried to explain, I think. I don’t know. I was too horrified to hear it. I ran away.”

Hamish shoved the pamphlets into the rack, came over to me, and took my hand. “That man is into you. He spent the entire night looking at you, and like Shakira said, the eyes don’t lie.”

“That was hips. Hips don’t lie,” Gunter said.

Hamish wasn’t deterred. “Someone said the eyes don’t lie. Who isn’t important. What is important is that man lied through his perfect teeth last night when he said no. He wants you. Everyone could see that. We all saw that, didn’t we?” He looked at Gunter for back up.

Gunter nodded and shrugged. “We thought so.”

“I thought so,” I admitted. “We talked and laughed the whole way home. He was so sweet. He held my arm as we walked, and he was so sweet. I thought...” I sighed. “I misread everything, obviously. I’m clearly out of practice.”

“You got no rizz,” one girl said. She was making herself a hot drink, was no more than fifteen years old, had green-and-blue hair, pink eye shadow, and dark lips. “Or he got no rizz.”

Hamish and I both stared at her. “I don’t know what that means,” Hamish said, then he looked at me. “I don’t know what that means.”

I shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I have no clue.”

“Charisma,” Gunter explained. “It means you got no charisma, or you lack the ability to charm or woo someone.”

Now both me and Hamish stared at Gunter. “Oh my god,” Hamish murmured, horrified. “How do you know that? How do I not know that?”

Gunter shrugged. “I had to get familiar. With the lingo.”

The girl rolled her eyes and half smiled. “We don’t expect you to know. You were born in the nineteen hundreds.”

Jesus.

Hamish clutched at his chest. “Ow.” Then he turned to Gunter, exasperated. “The nineteen hundreds? What is... how is...? Oh my god.” He gawped at the girl and gestured to his clothes. “I’m still cool. And on-trend. These jeans are a Japanese brand, I’ll have you know. I... I don’t know how to say it, but look at this label. A queer-owned Japanese brand.” He turned around to show her the label.

“That’s okay,” Gunter said, stopping Hamish before he could show her the label on the backside of his jeans.

On his backside.

The girl laughed and sipped her hot chocolate, which just seemed to exasperate Hamish even more.

“Nineteen hundreds,” he mumbled to Gunter, as if he wanted Gunter to punish the poor girl.

I chuckled. “Yes, we folks from the nineteen hundreds have no rizz,” I said to her. “It’s fine.”

She clearly liked that she’d rattled us oldies a little. “If you wanna rizz your man, you need less cheugy and more BDE.”

Hamish and I stared at her. “I don’t know what any of that means,” Hamish whispered.

“Ah, no,” Gunter said, intervening. “No BDE in here. Thanks, Evie. But we can take it from here. All good.”

“Just sayin’,” she said, going back to her table. She looked at me. “Make him earn it.”

Oh, dear god .

Hamish put his hand to his forehead. “I think I need to sit down.”

I kind of laughed because I had no idea what just happened. Except that I was officially uncool and old.

Hamish took Gunter’s arm. “What the hell is BDE?”

“Big dick energy,” he whispered.

Oh my.

“Oh my god,” I mumbled.

Gunter sighed. “It just means you need to act cool, like you’re in control. Play hard to get.”

“Make him earn it,” I repeated what Evie had said. Now it made sense.

Hamish was still spiraling, his hand to his forehead, expression horrified. “Nineteen hundreds. I’m from the nineteen hundreds.”

I chuckled. “Damn.”

Gunter nodded slowly. “Oh yeah. They keep you humble.”

“I’m still cool,” Hamish said. His hand was now pressed to his sternum, his expression indignant. “I’m still young and hip. I could hang with the kids.”

“Okay, first of all,” Gunter whispered, “don’t let them hear you say words like cool and hip. They’ll eat you alive. Secondly, don’t show weakness. Don’t let them see your fear.” He shook his head grimly. “And I can tell you with my whole heart, Hamish, that we think we’re young and hip, and we think we’re cool and can hang with the cool kids, but I’m telling you. Five minutes with these guys and you will know—in no uncertain terms—that we are, in fact, neither young, hip, nor cool. We are very much almost forty years old, relics from the nineteen hundreds, and cringe.”

Hamish’s hand was now in a campy defense pose across his chest and he let out a wail of despair.

Gunter gestured to him. “My point exactly.”

All I could do was laugh. These guys were so great.

“Do you need a minute?” Gunter asked Hamish. He nodded, seemingly unable to speak.

Gunter then smiled at me. “Coffee?”

“Sounds great.”

I had most of my Christmas lights up on the front of my house by three o’clock. Well, correction. Clay did most of the work on the ladder while Hamish directed, and I just did what I was told.

I’d asked Soren to help and he’d said he would after four o’clock, but I assumed that was no longer on the table after last night, and Hamish was adamant that I should show him I could do it without his help.

Apparently, Soren turning me down offended Hamish more than me.

I was still in the embarrassed and rejected stage. Hamish had moved straight into anger and said I should use the BDE that Evie had suggested and hang my own damned Christmas lights.

Prove I didn’t need him.

Except I did need a ladder, and when Hamish had asked Ren where he kept their ladder, Ren had urged—more like insisted—that Clay do the ladder climbing .

Clay, who just happened to be in the hardware store at the time, understood the assignment and agreed.

Hamish wanted the house done before four, so should Soren turn up, he’d know he missed his chance.

That was probably a little more catty than my MO, but Hamish could be convincing when he wanted to be. Or maybe pushy was the right word.

Either way, by three o’clock, it was done. I had icicle lights hanging from the gutters and soft colored Christmas lights across my porch.

“I love it. Thank you both so much,” I said. I couldn’t believe they’d both taken time out of their day for me. It was a kindness and generosity I wasn’t used to. “I really do appreciate the help.”

Clay folded his ladder and slid it onto his truck. “No problem at all. It’s what we do.”

Hamish stood beside me in my small front yard, looking up at my house. “It’s just so cute, and it’s all done before a certain someone gets home.”

No sooner had he said that than a certain someone came running around Clay’s truck.

He was wearing his firefighter long pants and a white T-shirt with the fire brigade emblem on his right pec. He was panting, as if he’d run here from the station.

He seemed to notice the newly installed Christmas lights before he noticed Hamish and Clay. “Hey,” he said to me, ignoring them. “I had to come see you. I’m so freaking sorry. I’ve been useless all day, and Doug threatened to fire me if I didn’t come sort myself out. Rob, I need you to know how sorry I am. I should have said yes last night. I’ve been kicking myself ever since. I just didn’t want to rush you, and I didn’t want you to regret anything, should we move too fast. I think you’re kinda great and I was getting too far ahead of myself, and I swear if you could please give me one more chance. You have to know, next time you ask me if I want to come in, I’m saying hell fucking yes. And you don’t have to ask me any time soon. Just whenever you’re ready again is okay with me. I’ll wait. As long as it takes. I’m sorry, Rob. I really am.”

I wasn’t sure what to say.

I wasn’t even sure I could speak.

But then Hamish, who was still standing there holding an empty Christmas lights box, made a weird, strangled sound. We both looked at him. “Ask him,” Hamish hissed at me. Then he pointed at Soren while staring at me. “Ask him!”

I might have panicked. “Do you know what rizz is?”

Soren blinked. “Uh . . . what?”

“Not that,” Hamish said, so very disappointed. “Oh my god. Ask him!”

Clay was laughing by his truck.

I had to ignore everyone and concentrate on Soren . . . in his too-tight firefighter T-shirt. “Do you . . . would you like to . . . ?”

Soren strode over to me, determined, and took my face in his hands. “Yes,” he said, then crashed his lips to mine.

Warm, soft lips, the hint of stubble, the heat of his palms on my cheeks made me melt into him.

Oh my . . .

Then a very high-pitched keening sounded nearby, which I realized was Hamish. I broke the kiss and glanced over at him, slightly concerned for his well-being, Soren keeping me close with his hand now burning into my neck.

Hamish had his hands to his face, doing a little skippity dance. “Now that is BDE.” But then Clay came over and dragged him away. “I want to watch,” he tried.

“See ya, guys,” Clay said with a wave as he basically threw Hamish into the cab of his truck.

“Thank you, again, for your help,” I called out.

Hamish had to roll the old-fashioned window down, which took considerable effort, if his enthusiasm was any gauge. “You’re welcome. I want details!”

The truck rumbled to life and Hamish had to roll the window back up as they reversed out of my driveway. Soren and I watched them leave, and then it was just us and a lot to talk about.

I turned to him, and, keeping his hand on my neck, he said, “I really am sorry. And I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you put up the Christmas lights. Or that you felt I shouldn’t be the one to help. I’m sorry.”

“Hamish said I should do it before you got here. If you were still coming here... I wasn’t sure,” I whispered. “I’m sorry about last night. You said no and I panicked. I was embarrassed.”

He swiped his thumb along my jaw before he reached for my hand instead. “I was an idiot. We had such a good night at dinner with all the guys and I kept thinking that’s what you need. That community, that group of great friends. You didn’t need me coming on too strong. You just moved here, and you said you were burned out, and I wanted to give you time.”

I smiled at him. “You did a lot of thinking for me.”

He made a sad face, his eyes full of sincerity. “I’m sorry. I should have asked and not assumed. Believe me, I’ve been an ass at work all day. Doug told me to leave, to come and fix this or set the record straight... I don’t even know. I barely slept. I just wanted to make this right.”

He made it right, all right. My gaze dropped to his lips and I had to make myself look back at his eyes. “You did. And I’m pretty sure you made Hamish’s day. The whole group probably knows already.”

He chuckled. “He said something about BDE . . .”

I snorted. “He did.”

And he wasn’t wrong.

Soren fought a smile. “Do you know what BDE is?”

I nodded, embarrassed. “I do now. I also know that I’m neither young nor hip, and the lingo of today’s youth is lost on my aforementioned too-old self. I was also told I have no rizz.”

He barked out a laugh. “Who have you been speaking to?”

“A nice young girl at the youth center was imparting her wisdom on me. If I’m going to help out there, I’ll need the Urban Dictionary. Is there an app for that?”

“I have no idea.” Soren chuckled then looked over at the Christmas lights. “I am sorry about the lights. I wanted to help you.”

“I still have to decorate inside,” I whispered, fully aware that it sounded like the invitation it was. “I have a tree now as well, thanks to Clay. If you wanted to help me?—”

“Yes. If you think I’m saying no again, you’re out of your mind.” His eyes scanned my face, drawing down to my lips. “I really want to kiss you again, and we probably shouldn’t be outside for that. Mr. Ling across the road is no doubt watching us right now. I mean, he’s a real sweet old guy and he loves some gossip, but he might not appreciate just how obscenely I’m going to kiss you.”

Oh shit.

My blood flushed hot and my skin prickled all over.

“Obscenely, huh?” Suddenly breathless, I glanced across the street, and I couldn’t see anyone peeking through windows or anything. But Soren was right. “We definitely should take this inside.”

I’d never wanted anything more.

My stomach was full of butterflies. My legs felt like Jell-O as I climbed the front steps and held the door open for him.

“I should take my boots off,” he murmured, bending over inside the door and pulling at his laces. I got a fabulous view of his trapezius and his latissimus dorsi as he did this, and I almost forgot my own shoes. Which were much easier than his, thankfully.

“Uh, can I get you a drink?” I asked.

He stood up straight and dropped his second boot to the floor, his eyes burning into mine. “No thanks.”

He looked at my lips and took a step closer.

“Can I get you anything?” I whispered, not capable of speaking normally, apparently. “I’m trying to remember my manners. ”

He shook his head and touched his index finger to my chest, then dragged it up to my chin. “And I’m trying to forget mine.”

My breath caught, and my knees almost buckled. He lifted my chin, tilted his face, and pressed his body to mine, commanding and crowding me in the very best way. His lips were so close to mine, almost touching.

Almost.

My heart hammered, my lungs needed air . . .

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his eyes dazed.

“I think I’ll die if you don’t.”

He smirked as his lips met mine. But then his hands cupped my face, my neck, as he tilted my head and deepened the kiss.

His lips opened mine, his tongue slid into my mouth, and I moaned.

I’d never moaned like that in my life.

He grunted in the back of his throat and kissed me deeper, his body now pressing against me. My hands found his waist, his back, and the feel of his body...

Muscular and hard in all the right places...

Oh my.

I broke the kiss, for air and some mental clarity. “Damn.”

He chuckled, his lips swollen and wet, his eyes dark. And the way he looked at me... like he wanted to devour me.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” I murmured, my voice rough.

“How am I looking at you?”

He knew damned well .

“In a way that isn’t conducive to abstinence.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he said. “Is abstinence something you’re striving for?”

I was still a little dazed by the fact he’d just called me sexy... “Uh, no. Not really. I don’t know... without making it awkward, and I’m still on a high from the way you kissed me just now. You were very correct, by the way. Mr. Ling did not need to bear witness to that.”

“Was it obscene enough for you? Because I can do better. I was trying to be polite.”

I barked out a laugh. “Polite. Huh.”

He smirked like the devil himself, but when he took my hand, he interlocked our fingers and was serious again. “You said you were unsure about the abstinence comment and didn’t want to make it awkward. Unsure about what? Rest assured, Rob, there’s no need for it to be awkward here.”

I laughed again and had to remind myself that I was older than him. I was the serious, professional medical practitioner, and there wasn’t any reason for me to be awkward. Despite how I’m certain my cheeks burned red, I didn’t have any reason to be embarrassed.

“I’m not practicing abstinence,” I began. It was easier for me to take a medical approach. “I think we would need to discuss boundaries and expectations before I comment further on the matter of sexual activity.”

He seemed slightly amused. “Okay. Sure. Should we sit down?” He gestured to the sofa.

“Good idea.” I led him to the couch, still holding his hand. God, even holding hands felt good. He waited for me to get my thoughts in order. “It’s nothing really, and I’ve probably set up this entire conversation wrong.”

“It’s fine, Rob. If sex isn’t something you’re comfortable with, it’s okay. You can tell me.”

“No, it’s... I’m very comfortable with it. I was just hoping to maybe not have this conversation until our second date, at least. And I don’t want you to think I’m reading way too much into this. As in waaaaaay too much.”

“Okay,” he said.

God, now I’d made it into a big deal.

I sighed and decided to just get it over with. “You mentioned abstinence, which is not what I’m aiming for here. Believe me. I’ve felt more in that regard in the last four days than I have in years. But before when you were kissing me, I thought if I don’t stop this right now, I was about to ask you to take me to bed. Like now, Soren. And I don’t know if that’s what I want for us. Just yet, that is. Which is why it’s getting awkward, because here I am thinking about the longevity of us when we haven’t really established anything between us at all.”

Soren blinked.

So I kept rambling. “And I don’t want it to sound like I’m saving myself or anything—I think we both know that ship sailed a long time ago?—”

He smiled at that.

Christ, stop talking, Robinson.

“I do this when I’m nervous, I’m sorry. What I’m trying to say is, depending on how we see this relationship developing and what each of us want from it, is concurrently relative to how soon we have sex. ”

He pressed his lips together to stop from smiling. “I see.”

I pulled my hand from his and wiped my palms on my thighs. “See? There’s the awkward I was trying to avoid.”

“Let me get this straight,” he said. “You want to have sex with me but you need to know how I feel about you first?”

I wanted to bury my face in my hands but what he’d said was right. In a nutshell.

“Well, that makes me sound like a virginal teenager whose boyfriend wants to go all the way. Which I’m not, honestly, I just have reasons...” I groaned, because this had far exceeded awkward, and I held up two fingers. “First reason is that I’m new to town and I’m a doctor. I can’t be falling into bed with the first hot stranger who looks at me twice. That’s not professional, and quite frankly, the people of Hartbridge deserve someone who will be a little more upstanding than that. Secondly, if we’re just going to be fuck buddies, if that’s all you want, then that’s fine, but we need to set some boundaries and rules. We each have jobs to think about and reputations within the community that we need to consider. It would have to be secret, and we might have to, I don’t know, take a panel of fencing out in our backyards so you can sneak over without Mr. Ling seeing.”

Smiling, he took my hand again. “Okay, so,” he began.

“You can see now why I told you it was awkward. Asking if you want to date or just be fuck buddies before I invite you to my bed. It’s the definition of awkward and I can now see why Evie said I had no rizz.”

He laughed but now held my hand in both of his. “I want to date you,” he said. “I think you’re kinda great, and I want to get to know you better. I would hope that sex is something we could explore, if and when you’re comfortable. The points you made were valid, and I can appreciate you needing to know where I stood before we went any further.” He glanced back over to the front door. “Because that kiss was hot as hell.”

I laughed, relieved and happy. So freaking happy. “It was hot. I think that’s why I panicked. Because I was like two seconds away from taking you to my room, but then it would have made things complicated because we hadn’t talked. Just because I haven’t had sex in a really long time shouldn’t be the leading factor in decision-making.”

Soren bit his bottom lip. “A really long time, huh?”

“Like forever, in gay terms. Maybe two years?”

He seemed surprised by this. “Oh. I see. But you were busy, working crazy hours.”

“And hitting up gay bars or terrible apps really are not my style. I like meeting people the old-fashioned way.”

“Like going out into your front yard to yell at them in your flamingo pajamas.”

“Exactly.” I nodded. “And just so you know, I’m still going to be setting those on fire.”

His eyes lit up. “A fire, huh?”

“Yes. It will be a ceremonial burning. A bonfire, even.”

“Ooh. You’ll need a permit for that. And that’s lucky, because I just happen to be a firefighter. But I will prohibit the burning of those. Any other pajamas are fine.”

I chuckled, but of course then I just had to look at the Hartbridge Fire Department logo on his T-shirt. “Will you wear your firefighter uniform?”

Soren laughed, his eyes wide. “You like it, huh?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re so hot and you know it.”

His eyes met mine, amused, and he shrugged. “Still nice to be told though.”

“Okay, yes, I find your uniform appealing,” I admitted. “Though, full disclosure, I’ve never found any particular uniform attractive so I’m almost certain it’s you in that uniform. Or... maybe just you in anything you wear, basically.”

His smile was flirty, his eyes sparkled, and he licked the corner of his mouth. It made my breath catch, which of course made him grin. “Full disclosure,” he said. “I’ve never found anyone older than me attractive, never looked twice at any doctor or intellectual type?—”

“Great.”

He chuckled. “But you. One look at you and I was a goner.”

“It was the flamingo pajamas, wasn’t it?”

“One hundred percent.” He laughed, but then he studied my eyes for a heart-stopping moment. “But you, Robinson, there’s something about you. I want to date you. I want to cook you dinner and make you laugh. I want to see you smile because, damn, it trips a circuit in my brain. And I want to kiss you again. Though full, full disclosure, now that I’ve kissed you once?—”

“Twice, actually. ”

“Sorry. Now that I’ve kissed you twice, I want to kiss you all the damn time. I’m happy to wait until you’re ready for more. I just want to spend time with you. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to give you the time you needed. I don’t want to rush this. I want to get it right.”

Well, damn.

I had some difficulty speaking for a few seconds. “I’d like that,” I finally managed. “Dating. Kissing all the damn time sounds kinda great to me too. And for what it’s worth, I’ve not been with anyone younger than me... that I know of.” I made a face. “Certainly never dated anyone younger.” I put my hand to my chest. “But to be fair, I gave up eight years of my life for medical school, so we’re basically the same age.”

He laughed and threaded our fingers, looking at our hands on his knee. “I’m glad we talked, and I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Me too.”

“And I know it’s early days, and honestly, as tempting as the offer of fuck buddies is, like sex right now—because believe me, I’m tempted, and I’m sure my dick hates me right now—but I really want romance. And I know that sounds sappy and stupid, but dinner dates and flowers for no reason, and all that sweet stuff. I want that too.” He worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “I see how the guys are with each other—the smiles and the looks—and I want that. Sounds kinda lame, right?”

“No. Not at all. It’s not lame to want to feel appreciated and wanted.”

His eyes met mine. “Thank you for saying that. I swear, Chucky thinks I’m so desperate for love that I’d take anyone.”

I recoiled at that. “Oh.” Because that was . . . that was . . .

Soren grabbed my hand tighter, his eyes wide. “No, not you. I mean before you. He used to say I was such a sucker for love that I was gonna fall head over heels for the first guy who looked at me twice.”

“And that’s not true?”

“No. You looked at me once. You actually came stomping across your yard to yell at me, holding your coffee cup with your hair all messed up?—”

“Please don’t say wearing those damned pajamas.”

He chuckled. “They’re burned into my memory.”

I smiled at him. “Romance, huh?”

He shrugged. “Well, yeah. Do you not want me to sweep you off your feet? Make you coffee, make you smile. Bring you flowers.”

“For me? I thought you wanted those things.”

“Well, I’m not opposed, but I meant for you. That’s what I like to do; I like to spoil my partner and look after them. Some guys find it too much, and I might get carried away.”

“I don’t want to come home to a thousand red roses.”

He snorted. “I wish I could afford that, but no. I’m more of a one single rose kind of guy.”

“One rose is completely acceptable. But I won’t come home to find my pet bunny in a boiler on the stove, will I?”

He looked positively horrified. “Who the hell have you dated? Ted Bundy?”

“It’s from a movie.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t my favorite film.”

“Okay, so no, that’s a hard, hard pass. But maybe some dinner on the stove sometimes. Though it’ll probably be vegetarian after the bunny visual.”

I laughed. “I like vegetarian. I make a mean chickpea curry. Well, I used to. I haven’t made it in a long time.”

“Then I would love to try it sometime.”

I glanced back at the kitchen. “I was going to cook you dinner tonight, but then I was certain you wouldn’t be coming over so I didn’t plan ahead, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He checked his watch. “It’s still early.”

“Want to help me cook something?”

He grinned. “Yes.” Then he gave a nod to the Christmas tree. “Did you still want to decorate?—”

“Yes. I would like that very much.”

He leaned over and gave me a soft peck on the lips. “Thank you. I’m glad we talked about all this.”

“Same. And we’re on the same page...” I cringed. “Dating, yes?”

He looked so damn happy. “Dating. If we have dinner tonight, will this be our first official date? Or technically our third date? If we don’t include last night, because it was a whole group of us at dinner, then maybe our second date? Just for the sake of clarity, should someone ask.”

I pretended to consider this, but really, my mind kept going back to one thing. “Well, I’m not sure we should count last night. It was a group dinner, which was lovely, by the way, but then I went ahead and asked you if you wanted to come back to my place, and it all went downhill and I spent the entire night under my covers, pretending everything was fine. Which would make this date number two, in which case, making out is an acceptable way to close out the evening. After dinner and Christmas tree decorating, that is. If you’d be so obliged?”

He grinned at me. “Oh, I am so obliged. Date number two it is.”

But then his gaze dropped to my lips and he slow blinked, and my stomach swooped and my blood seemed to surge to a certain part of my body.

Because I wanted him. I wanted him in ways I hadn’t wanted anything.

I shot up off the couch. “Okay, dinner. Yes, dinner first. Well, we should start dinner. Before we... do other things.”

He smirked, clearly aware of the effect he had on me. I hurried to the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Uh, I have steak. And vegetables to steam. Or we can bake them if you’d prefer. I’ve been appreciating the time to cook more this week than I have in years.” I slid the tray of steaks out, but when I turned around, Soren was closer than I’d expected. “Oh.”

His hand went to my arm. “You okay?”

“Yes. Just nervous. Which is ridiculous. I’m thirty-six years old. I’m a doctor, for Pete’s sake.”

He took the steaks from my hand and slid them onto the counter. “You’re human,” he murmured, “who’s been too busy for years.”

I swallowed hard. That was all true. But damn... I pressed my hand to my stomach, trying to quell the jitters.

“Belly full of butterflies?” he said, his voice low and his eyes full of heat. He took the hand from my stomach and lifted it to his lips, softly kissing my knuckles. “Steamed vegetables sound great.”

I was so enraptured by him, so dazed, it took me a second to catch up. “Huh? Oh, vegetables. Yes. Dinner.”

He smiled in a way that did my stomach no favors. Or my lungs. And he knew it because his tongue licked the corner of his mouth again, teasing me.

My whole body was on edge. My heart was hammering. My dick... well, it was interested too.

“You know,” I said breathlessly. “I think we miscounted. I’m fairly sure this is date number three. Actually, I’m certain it is.”

He stepped in close, his body pushing me gently backward so my ass hit the kitchen counter. He was pressed against me, his nose brushing mine, and I could barely remember to breathe. “You wanted to take it slow,” he murmured, his voice hot on my ear.

“I was a fool,” I breathed.

He smiled and nudged his nose to mine again, his eyes drawing up to meet mine. Full of fire.

So fucking hot.

My body thrummed, and he had to feel how turned on I was. I could certainly feel his...

“I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered.

“Please.”

He leaned harder against me and slid his mouth over mine, slow and controlling .

So much self-control.

I wanted to tear at his clothes, grip his face, and devour him, but he was leading this. He was in command and so, so fucking hot.

His mouth, his tongue, sliding against mine, deep and devouring. Then his arms slid around my back, warm and strong, holding me.

My body moved of its own volition. I lifted my leg without thought, hitching it over his hip. My hands found his neck, his hair, and I tilted my head so he could give me more of his tongue.

I groaned and rolled my hips and he put his hands to my face and broke the kiss. He stepped back, making my leg fall, and I had to steady myself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Holy fuck,” he panted. “If we don’t stop, I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”

“I’m not sure I want to,” I replied, again, without thinking. That seemed to be happening a lot around him...

His gaze met mine, his last thread of self-control visible. “Rob.”

“I know what I said. And I’m sorry for the mixed signals. But, Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking hot.” I shook my head. “Sorry about the language. I don’t normally cuss. There seems to be a distinct brain-to-body disconnect when I’m around you.”

He chuckled and let out a sigh. He had himself back under control now, I could tell. And I was disappointed, but I understood.

“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s just all so new for me. I can’t even remember the last time someone touched me in a non-sexual way, so my brain is drinking down dopamine like a college kid on a beer bong, and my body... phew! Well, my body is, uh...” I adjusted my now-aching dick. “Well, yeah. It’s not opposed to the attention.”

He chuckled but his smile became a little tortured. “That’s why I need to slow down. I have to do this right even if it kills me.” He looked down at my crotch and groaned as he turned away, and with his hand to his forehead, he let out a laugh. “And it’s gonna kill me.”

“Why do you have to do this right?” I asked. He’d made it sound like a chore.

“Because you said it yourself. It’s been a while since someone touched you in a non-sexual way.” He put his hand to my face, and I couldn’t help it. I leaned into the touch and closed my eyes.

And I realized I’d proven his point.

I was touch-starved, and I was craving it.

“I want to show you all the little things. The soft touches, the intimacy.”

“The romance,” I added, remembering what he’d said before, and he nodded.

“We’ll get to the good part,” he said. “I know we will. And it’s gonna be so good. I will make it so good for you, Robinson. I promise. But it will be a whole-body experience. Not a hand job in your kitchen.”

Holy hell.

My blood burned at his words, but it was different than before. Not desire, not the need for physical touch. Something else. Something better, deeper.

“I was actually thinking more of a blow job,” I joked, rolling my eyes .

He groaned out a laugh. “That visual isn’t helping.”

I put my hands on his shoulders and made him stand at arm’s length. “You being too close to me isn’t helping. You looking at me isn’t helping, and the way you lick the corner of your mouth really, really isn’t helping.”

He laughed and deliberately faced the wall. “Is that better?”

“Not really. Your side profile is just as hot.”

He turned his back to me. “How’s that?”

My eyes went straight to his ass. “So much better.”

He laughed again and turned around with his hands up. “Okay. So if we’re having steak and steamed vegetables for dinner, it will take fifteen minutes, max. Let’s decorate your Christmas tree.”

“That’s not a euphemism for sex by chance, is it?”

He laughed as he walked into the lounge room. “No. Now stop it. Or we will do the euphemism. How long has your tree been settling?”

I followed him in and stood beside him, both of us staring at the tree. “Uh, he dropped it off this afternoon.”

“Hm. You probably should give it a bit more time.”

“Oh.”

“We could decorate it tomorrow?” he said with a shrug. “I’ll finish around four, if that suits you? I mean, you can totally do it yourself any time tomorrow without me; I didn’t mean to imply you had to wait.”

A thrill ran through me. “That would definitely be date number three.”

His eyes darted to mine and he knew exactly what I meant. “It would be, yes. Date four, by some standards. ”

I had to chew on the inside of my lip so I didn’t smile too wide. “Hm. Dinner and wine and...”

“And I’d like to say second base but I’m pretty sure once we get past first, we’re just gonna blow right past second into third and probably a home run.”

“Not if you use a baseball analogy we won’t be.”

He laughed. “Not a fan?”

“Terrible. Not the sport, just the analogy.” I grinned at him, glad we could get past any awkwardness and still be joking with each other. I went to the table and slid the box toward me. “Should we see what other amazing Christmas decorations the Home Mart had?”

Soren stood beside me and opened the lid to the box, only when he did, he sliced his finger. “Ow.” He instinctively put his finger in his mouth. “Paper cut.”

I pulled out a seat. “Sit down. I’ll grab my kit.” I came back from the bathroom with my small med kit. It held no more than acetaminophen, bandages, tweezers, cotton swabs, some saline, and alcohol wipes.

“You don’t have to do that,” Soren said. “It’s really fine. Just a paper cut.”

I sat next to him, our knees touching, and I took his hand. “It might get infected.”

He pulled his hand away. “But if you treat me, I’ll technically be your patient. Then there will be no euphemisms, no baseball analogies.”

I rolled my eyes and took his hand again. “You’re not my patient.” I inspected the sliced finger, took an alcohol wipe, and he hissed when I cleaned it.

I lifted his finger to my lips and blew on it, and it made him smile.

I opened a bandage. “ Paper cuts, which are such a small nuisance infliction, hurt so much because of the damaged nerve endings in the epidermis, setting off mechanical nociceptors.”

He snorted. “Interesting.”

I wrapped the bandage around his finger. “And those nociceptors let loose a flurry of electrical signals that travel through your nerve fibers and into the spinal cord. Then nerve cells in the spinal cord relay those signals to the brain.”

“I happen to find your intelligence a huge turn on,” he said. “Just so you know.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep. And you know I do have extensive first aid and emergency training, and I’m sure you forgot something.”

I looked at his finger—at his measly paper-cut-bandaged finger. “Is that so?”

“Mm.” Then he lifted his bandaged finger and pouted. “You need to blow on it twice. It’s the second time, that’s the key.”

I laughed, the humor and warmth in his eyes making my heart thump. But I took his hand and gently blew on his finger again. “Better?”

His gaze lingered with something I couldn’t quite read. “So much better.”