Shut Up and Kiss Me (11 page)

Peeking up at her through my fingers, I made a face. “A duct tape dress? That’s still a thing?”

“
A duct tape dress?” Nikki shouted, throwing her hands up in the air. “That’s what you took away from that? A duct tape dress?”

Spinning around, she disappeared down the hall. “A duct tape dress,” she muttered.

Laughing, I glanced down at my phone, instantly noting the time. “Oh my God,” I breathed, jumping up.

Frantically, I searched my closet for something to wear, choosing an emerald green silk camisole that perfectly matched my eyes and pairing it with black skinny jeans and ballet flats. After clipping my hair up, I teased loose a few stray curls, giving me a natural and tousled look, my appearance far more demure than sexy. I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression about tonight in any way. Tonight I wanted to get to know him better.

“
Your cab is here, Mila!” Nikki yelled.

“
Oh my God! I forgot a cab!” Giving myself a quick spritz of perfume, I grabbed my purse and rushed into the hall.

“
You’re welcome,” Nikki said. Standing by the door, her arms folded under her chest, she grinned at me. “Now go have fun!”

Opening the front door with a grand flourish, she waved me out.

The twenty-minute cab ride to the restaurant was just long enough to give me time to think and a much-needed moment to calm down. By the time we’d pulled up outside the small yet picturesque restaurant, I was feeling much more self-assured. That is, until I stepped inside. While La Bella Luna might have appeared quaint and charming on the outside, the inside was the stark opposite. My stomach fell to my feet; I wasn’t dressed appropriately at all. This was grand and opulent, and here I was in skinny jeans.

The maître d’ at the front desk glanced up at me with a pleasant smile, her painted red lips stretching wide as she appraised me from head to toe.

“
Reservation?” she asked.

“
Yes, I think so,” I stammered. “Will…um…” Realizing I didn’t know his last name, I snapped my mouth shut and blushed hotly.

“
Last name?” she asked, raising her brow.

“
I…ummm…” I trailed off, sucking in my bottom lip, feeling like a bumbling idiot. Could I just make a run for it?

A warm hand landed on my shoulder and I flinched, jerking away, only to pause mid-step when I met with Will’s bright blue eyes smiling down at me.

“
You’re early,” he said, his smile growing wider.

I couldn’t help but smile back. His smile was intoxicating—addicting, even. “I’m sorry,” I said softly.

“
Don’t be sorry,” he said, “You’re not like other women, and that’s a good thing.”

His blue eyes raked over me, soaking up my every feature. Normally, this sort of visual scrutiny would have made me feel uncomfortable, but I found that with Will it left me breathless, and wanting more.

“
A very good thing…”

“
Right this way, Mr. Townsend.”

The spell growing between us broken, we both glanced toward the Maître d’. Giving us a small smile, she tilted her head toward the dining room. “If you’ll follow me, please.”

“
Townsend,” I murmured. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“
Your turn,” he whispered, and for a moment I just stared blankly at him, until it dawned on me that he was asking me my last name.

I blushed hotly, embarrassed for the both of us. “Webber,” I said, “Mila Webber.”

Grinning, Will took my hand in his, and together we entered the dining area. The urge to drop my chin and avoid the gazes of the other patrons, all dressed far more appropriately than I was, was strong. Instead, I purposefully met their appraising stares head-on, refusing to shy away from anything tonight. And by the time we’d reached our table, a quiet two-top in the back, I was smiling from ear to ear.

“
Scotch please,” he told the waiter who’d suddenly appeared. “And a…manhattan?” Will glanced at me, his brow raised, waiting for confirmation.

I nodded shyly, surprised he’d remember something as inconsequential as what I liked to drink.

“
Very good, sir,” the waiter said, nodding once before slipping away.

Will turned back to me, greeting the smile I couldn’t seem to get rid of with one of his own. “You look beautiful,” he said, and from the look on his face, the tone of his voice, I knew he was being genuine.

“
You look great, too,” I whispered. And he did. His white dress shirt was fitted, accentuating the firm body underneath. Dark suit pants and an expensive-looking watch completed his outfit. He looked dressy yet casual, and so, so very sexy.

“
Yeah?” he asked, glancing down at the floor. I followed his gaze, my eyes widening when I saw his footwear. The same worn sneakers that he’d been wearing at the club, he’d worn tonight as well.

“
Oh my God,” I giggled, bringing my hand to my mouth to muffle the sound. “That’s adorable.”

Will’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Adorable?” He laughed. “Now that is a first.”

“
Do you always wear those, or did you wear them for me?”

“
Yes,” Will answered, winking at me.

Laughing softly, I glanced down at the table, the two of us lapsing into silence as we read through our menus. After scanning through the items, wrinkling my nose up at most of the dishes before settling on the salmon, I glanced up to find Will already watching me.

“
Hi,” I whispered, sounding as shy as I suddenly felt.

“
Hi,” he whispered back, his blue eyes burning, his features tightly drawn and radiating heat.

I reacted in kind, squeezing my thighs together as I recalled the last time we’d sat at a table, and the soft kisses that had led to something more. So much more.

“
Are we splitting this bill?” he suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

My heart skipped a beat. I had agreed to meet him here but hadn’t considered how lavish it would be.

“
Yes, of course,” I mumbled, hoping I had enough cash to cover my portion.

“
It was a joke, Mila. There’s no way in hell I’d let you pay for dinner.” He was smiling again, though his gaze was most serious and determined, leaving no room for argument.

“
Although dessert is up to you,” he continued, his eyes once again burning. Reaching across the small table, he placed his hand over mine. “Certainly where we choose to eat it is.”

I struggled to suck in a breath as his thumb began casually caressing my knuckles, igniting a fire in me he’d flamed to life a week ago that still had yet to die out.

Giving Will a grin, closely followed by a blush, I leaned forward. “I have ice cream at my apartment.”

He really liked her.

No, he didn’t just really like her, Will really,
really
liked Mila. He liked the way she couldn’t seem to meet his eyes when she smiled, the way she would chew her bottom lip when she was nervous or flustered or simply at a loss for words. He even liked how clumsy she was, a trait he could only attribute to how shy she truly was.

It was all so…g
oddamn adorable. And refreshing. Utterly refreshing.

Of course it helped that she was strikingly beautiful as well, and not in some overly manicured, caked-with-makeup-and-covered-in-fine-clothing sort of way. She was naturally beautiful, and not at all overdone. And he couldn’t stress enough how immensely he appreciated that about her.

Dinner had been a bumbling mess: Mila had spilled her drink, dropped her fork, and blushed at both him and the waiter more times than he could count, and then yet again, she’d insisted on paying for half the tab. Of course he hadn’t allowed her to do so, but for a moment there he’d thought she’d been about to make a scene about it. And even if she had, he would have thoroughly enjoyed it.

Now, standing on the stoop just outside her apartment building, he was delighting in watching her look anywhere but at him, obviously completely at a loss of what to do next.

He knew what he wanted to do. Of course he wanted to kiss her—kiss her long and hard and then drag her up those ridiculously exhausting four flights of stairs and into her apartment, where he would promptly undress her and bury himself inside her.

Except…
he’d already done that. They’d skipped the torturous buildup and jumped straight into bed together and now… now what, exactly? He wanted her. He wanted to get to know her. He wanted something more substantial for once in life, and despite hardly knowing this woman, he felt comfortable with her—not at all floating along a stream of flimsy air and feeling like at any moment he was going to fall, but grounded. Real. Goddamn substantial.

And for those reasons, he wasn’t going to sleep with her again. At least, not yet anyway.

“
I had a great time,” she said softly, finally looking at him. “A really, really great time.”

He took a step forward, reaching for her cheek, surprised again at how comfortable he truly felt with her. Cupping the side of her face, he brushed the pad of his thumb along one perfectly sculpted cheekbone.

“
I like your hair curly,” he said absentmindedly.

Her bottom lip trembled, but her gaze didn’t waver. Silent, they stared at one another, Will for the first time in his life truly at a loss for words but at the same time feeling like words weren’t even needed. Also another first for him.

“
Do you want to come inside? I have ice cream,” she eventually asked, giving a gentle reminder of the earlier promise of dessert.

He could hear the uncertainty in her voice, and knew if he told her no she might not understand his reasoning. Dropping his hand from her face, he smiled at her. “Yes,” he said, “I would.”

Shoving his hands into his pants pockets, he watched while she fumbled with her keys, and smiled when, wrestling to get the door open, she practically fell straight through it. And then still watched as she headed up the stairs, admiring the way her firm backside swayed lightly back and forth with her movements.

Before long he was feeling the stirrings of an erection, finding himself wanting to reach out and touch her, and he quickly adverted his gaze to her shoulders. Her bare, tan skin glowing under the poor lighting in the hall, he found it wasn’t much better and did little to dissuade what his body was craving.

By the time they reached her apartment door, he was hoping Nikki was home to serve as a much-needed…well, cockblock. When it came to Mila, his cock needed blocking—there really was no other way to put it. He wanted this, whatever it was, to be different. For the first time in his life, he wanted to take it slowly, to make whatever was between them more than just lust. To have it mean something.

Mila cracked open the door and stuck her head inside the small opening. “Nikki?” she whispered loudly. “Nikki?”

After waiting a moment and getting no response, Mila peered over her shoulder. “I think she’s sleeping,” she said, and smiled broadly.

He smiled back—how could he not in the face of her adorable accent and all those dimples bursting forth and aimed in his direction?—though he internally groaned. No Nikki meant no chaperone.

“
Coffee?” Mila suggested, gesturing him inside the darkened hall.

“
Please,” he said, deciding to drink an entire pot. Coffee breath would have to serve as his much-needed sex deterrent.

Dropping her purse and keys atop a small table near the entrance to the kitchen, Mila kicked off her shoes and padded barefoot onto the linoleum. Though he’d been here before, he hadn’t paid much attention to his surroundings the first time, and took his time, while Mila puttered around the kitchen, to really look around her home. The kitchen was more of a kitchenette, the appliances all scaled smaller than normal-sized, everything quite cramped in appearance but also incredibly homey.

Someone—Mila or Nikki—had a penchant for pink, and it seemed had bought everything kitchen-related in exactly that color. There was a pink blender, a pink toaster, pink refrigerator magnets, and pink dish towels. Even the coffeemaker was accented with…pink. All that pink aside, what he found to be most endearing was the small bulletin board hanging beside a row of wall cupboards, littered with little multi-colored Post-Its pinned in every available space—all notes between the two women.