Wish Come True (The Blogger Diaries Trilogy Book 3) (6 page)

I playfully smack him in the chest with the back of my hand as we come to the front doors of the restaurant. It’s stopped drizzling, so we continue on to the car, his arm still wrapped possessively around me. “As if I’d fall for that again,” I gripe.

“Hey, I didn’t hear any complaining coming from your end. I kept waiting for you to stop me, but you never did,” he muses, referring to one of the many times we went back to his place after a night of playing pool at Legends Billiards. On that particular occasion, I could’ve sworn I would be too sore to make love after having marathon sex the night before. After working me into a complete frenzy with his mouth and fingers, there was absolutely no soreness when he offered to put in ‘just the tip, just to see how it feels’. The following day had resulted in me walking funny, hoping no one noticed.

At my glare, he tickles my side, sing-songing, “I straight up murdered that puuuuussaaaaaay!”
 

I can’t help but throw my head back and laugh until I’m coughing, trying to catch my breath.
And there’s my Jason
, I think happily.

Jason gets our tickets with a severely tense face as I try to make him squirm by pinching the place where his ass meets his thigh, the girl in the booth having no clue why I’m giggling up at him as his eyebrows lower, making his face quite scary to anyone who doesn’t know him. When she hands him the tickets, he turns toward me abruptly, removing the offending hand from his delightfully muscular ass as he steps closer, looming over me. I let out another girly giggle as he suddenly wraps both of his sinewy, tattooed arms around my waist and picks me up over his shoulder, hauling me over to the escalator to the second level of theaters like a sack of potatoes. I lift my head enough to see the surprised, dreamy smile on the teenaged employee’s face before I reach down Jason’s back and smack him on the ass.
 

When we reach the top of the escalator, he sets me on my feet and then spins me toward Theater 18, where our movie is about to start in just a few minutes.
 

“Go find us some seats. I gotta use the restroom. You want anything from the refreshments?” he asks.

And when I answer, he says the response in unison, “Chocolate-covered almonds,” making me smile and my chest swell once again. I can’t believe he would remember something so insignificant as my favorite movie theater candy.
 

With a quick swat to my ass, he sends me in the right direction as he heads to the men’s bathroom.
 

The theater is completely empty, a perk of coming to a late showing during the workweek. A few minutes later, right before the room goes dark, I see Jason come around the corner and look up the stadium style seating until he spots me at the very top in the middle of the row. My heart beats rapidly as I watch him climb the steps, drawing closer and closer to me. Even though I’ve spent nearly an hour with him already, it’s still crazy to actually see him with my own eyes, physically in my presence. It’s not a picture I’m looking at of him on MySpace. No, it’s really him. Flawless flesh and blood.
 

He plops down into the seat to my right, gives the cup holder armrest a very intimidating look before lifting it from between us, and then hauls me into his lap, looking into my face before handing me my box of chocolate-covered almonds. I smile and snatch them from his grip, ripping open the top of the thin cardboard, tearing open the clear bag inside it, and pouring a few of the nuts into my hand. I put two in my mouth, crunch down, and lift one to his lips. He opens his mouth and then closes his teeth gently around the tips of my thumb and forefinger holding the candy, scraping lightly along my flesh before taking the chocolate from between them. My eyes go half-mast. Jesus, everything he does is purely sexual. If anyone else would have done that, I would’ve been like,
Ew
. Jason does it, and I have to keep myself from tackling him down on a row of these theater seats and sitting on his face.

We watch the previews, me eating the candy two at a time—a quirk of mine, I have to have a piece on each side of my mouth before I bite down… is that OCD?
Squirrel
!—and feeding him one until the box is empty. Then, I don’t know what to do with my hands. He must see I’m going into awkward Kayla mode, because just as I reach up to twirl a piece of my hair nervously, he catches my hand and laces his fingers through mine, wrapping our arms around my waist as I stay seated comfortably on his lap. I relax against him turning slightly so my back is pressed to his front, and I drape my legs over the chair-back in front of us.

The movie begins, and I’m happily watching it, somehow concentrating on the storyline, even though I have Jason’s delicious hard body beneath me, that is… until I make the mistake of squeaking and wiggling when Patrick Dempsey’s beautiful face finally pops up on the screen.
Oh, McDreamy, how I love thee…

Was that a growl? I could swear I heard a feral sound coming from behind me, and I turn and look into Jason’s face, seeing the heated look in his eyes.
What did I do?

“If you don’t hold that tight little ass of yours still, I’m going to end up in jail for public indecency,” he prophesies.
 

“I… uh… sorry. That’s my favorite doctor on
Grey’s,”
I cite lamely, and face forward. But there is no concentrating on the movie for me after that, because all I’m focused on is not only the hard body underneath me, but the fact my seat has grown noticeably less cushioned. No longer is my backside supported by the relaxed thick muscles of his thighs; there is now something large and stiff behind the rough fly of his dark blue jeans.
 

And just like when something clearly states
,
Do Not Touch
,
it’s like a damn magnet for my curious digits. I gotta touch it. Plus, I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked. I do the complete opposite of what he warned me from. There’s no way I can sit still now. I make a conscious effort not to move, I really do! But it’s like I have no control over my deceitful body. It’s been too long since it’s been valued, too long having been neglected by an appreciative man’s touch, and like a demanding feline, it wants to be petted. Right meow.
 

I suddenly have a case of restless legs syndrome and have to move them every few seconds to stay comfortable. I feel his breath on my neck and it makes me roll my back, and when my hair falls into my face, I arch as I bring my hand up to push it behind my ear, bringing his face more into focus in my peripheral vision. His thighs flex beneath me, his chest expanding against my back as he takes in lungsful of air, his arms tightening and relaxing around me, his fingers tensing between mine.
 

By this point, I’ve lost all sense of what this damn movie is about. All I’m aware of is Jason. And as he always was before, he is completely attuned to me, and his self-control snaps. Before I know what he’s doing, he’s reached over and lifted the armrests on both sides of us, and then I’m being moved as if I weigh nothing. When he’s done arranging our bodies, we are lying stretched out across several seats on our sides facing each other, his back to the seatbacks, and his arm wrapped around my waist to keep me snug against him so I don’t fall off the edge of our makeshift couch. My head rests on his other forearm as he props himself up on his elbow, elevating me to the perfect height that all he’d have to do is lower his face a couple of inches, and I could easily kiss the life out of him.
 

He pauses, though, and it gives me a rare moment to take in my surroundings. Looking past his handsome face, I see the beaming light of the movie projector, illuminating the particles swirling in the air. Below me, I’m surprisingly quite comfortable, the cushions supporting our sprawled position. Behind me, I turn my head slightly to see the next row of seats is the perfect height to hide us from anyone who might walk into the otherwise empty theater. And then in front of me, the person who claimed my heart and soul years ago, and I realize in this second, I have never been happier. I take a high-resolution snapshot of this moment with my long-term memory, because I’m sure I will tell this story one day, and I want to remember every detail.
 

“What are you thinking about, beautiful?” Jason whispers, running his finger along my hairline and pushing strands away from my face.
 

I shake my head, not wanting to voice anything that would freak him out and make him run, but he’s having none of it.
 

“No secrets between us. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.” He touches his fingertip gently to my temple before trailing my cheekbone, down the bridge of my nose, and then tracing the outer edge of my lips.

His touch is hypnotizing, and I find myself spilling everything. “I was trying to take in every element of this moment, because it’s like something you’d read in one of my romance novels. I want to tell my kids this story one day, when Mommy was young and in love and did something crazy, like that time she made out with her boyfriend in the back row of the movie theater, even though she knew there were night vision security cameras watching.” I snicker.
 

He leans down and barely touches his lips to mine as he whispers against them, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll use this as a scene in a book you’ll write one day. Because if I have anything to do with it,” he finally presses a kiss to my mouth before continuing, “you’re going to fulfill your dreams. You’ve always talked about writing, but there’s always something standing in your way.” He kisses me again. “But if one day it’s up to me…” Another gentle press of his lips. “…the only thing you’ll be worrying about when our kids go to school and I leave for work is how many words you can type out until we get home.” Kiss. “What studly muscle-man you’ll use on your book cover.” Kiss. “If you’ll be able to find a bigger grammar-Nazi than you to proofread it.” Kiss. “And what color picture frame I’ll use to put the
New York Times
best-seller list with your name on it up on a wall in our house.”

I stare at him with wide eyes, letting the fantasy wash over me. Goddamn, that was better than the phone sex we have. And the best part? There’s not an ounce of teasing in his tone. He’s dead serious. Not to mention that part about ‘our kids’ and ‘our house’. I don’t know how to respond, so in typical Kayla fashion, I go to snort and say, ‘Yeah, right,’ but he cuts me off before I can even take in the air to let out through my nose.

“It’s going to happen. Mark my words,” he declares, and then his lips are on mine and there’s no more discussion.
 

We make out like teenagers, with wandering hands, heavy breaths mingling, and words of intimate appreciation.
 

“I’ve missed your lips.”

“You fit so perfect against me.”

“My heart is pounding.”

“Your skin is so soft.”

“You smell so good.”

“Can we stay here forever?”

“Can I keep you?”

“Yes.”

In what seems like a blink of an eye, the theater lights come on, and we look up to find the credits scrolling up the screen. My heart sinks, knowing it’s time to leave. I’d give anything for this night to never end, but I know I have to get home to my little girl. I wonder if this is how Cinderella felt when she realized it was midnight and she had to leave her prince. I try to shake off my disappointment as Jason gets to his feet and then pulls me up, wrapping his arms around my waist when I stand and pressing one last kiss to my lips before he takes hold of my hand. After I grab my purse, he leads me down the row, down the stairs, and then to the escalator.
 

I feel like dragging my feet, taking baby steps so the walk through the parking lot takes longer. When we had come back from our drinks at Olive Garden, he was able to park next to my rental, so we trudge hand-in-hand toward our cars, neither of us saying a word. Does he feel the impending sense of loss too?

Instead of walking to my driver side, he pulls me over to his passenger side door, opens it, and gestures for me to sit. I start to tell him I don’t have time to go anywhere tonight, that I have to get home to Josalyn, but he closes the door as I take a seat, cutting off any protests I might’ve made.

When he sits down behind the wheel and closes the door, he cranks the car and turns on the heater, and then I’m being hauled over the center console and into his lap. I smile, because it really seems like Jason can’t keep his hands off me. It’s quite a heady feeling, and it makes me feel loved, taken care of, and even a little sexy that this man I’m so infatuated with can’t stop himself from touching me, wanting me as close to him as physically possible… well, with clothes on, that is. For now.

“I know you have to get home to Josalyn, but I just can’t let go of you yet,” he mumbles against my neck, making me shiver. He wraps his arms more tightly around my, rubbing mine to soothe away the goose bumps.
 

“Maybe saying goodbye tonight won’t be so bad if we know exactly when we’ll see each other next,” I suggest, the Virgo in me wanting to make a solid plan.