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This refers to a pitcher throwing strikes that cross the zone just on the edge of the literal black border of home plate. “This pitcher is really painting the black.”
SYDNEY
A random hook up. I can do this, right? I should be able to. Yes, yes, I can do this.
Don’t worry, I don’t drive. I can barely walk in a straight line. Driving isn’t in my future. And I’ve seen Cason’s aim. He’s not driving my minivan.
Somewhere between us trying to leave the bar around one in the morning, I throw a dart at Forest. It landed in his shoulder. While it barely broke the skin, I still feel horrible.
Cason convinces me to leave after that, and we end up in an Uber pressed together without an inch of space. I have a brief second of wondering what the fuck am I doing when we leave the bar and Sadie takes my keys. Should I be doing this? Am I being disrespectful to the death of my husband taking a guy home one week after his death?
If you answered yes, have you lost your husband? Did he cheat on you? Did he lie about every aspect of the life you built with him?
That’s what I thought.
Still, pain slams into me, and I fight through emotions I don’t understand.
Fuck Collin.
Cason turns his face to mine. “Can I kiss you?”
The fear of what this means, or what I’m doing, eases at the sincerity in his words. Can I kiss you? Can he be any more adorable? Easiness works through me. “I’m surprised you’re asking.”
He searches my eyes in the darkness of the car. “I told you, I’m a nice guy.” His thumb sweeps across my lower lip at the release of his statement.
I don’t know why, but I glide the tip of my tongue over the pad of his calloused thumb. “I think I’d like it if you kissed me.”
His jaw flexes, desire flooding his eyes. “Fuck, that’s sexy.” There’s a pause on his part, and it’s as if everything is in slow motion.
“I think you’re sexy.” And then I bite down, lightly, on his thumb.
His hand moves, fingers inching forward and to the base of my skull. The slightest bit of pressure, and he leans in, pulling me toward him.
That’s when his mouth finally finds mine.
I know women want to romanticize that first kiss and go into all kinds of details about tingles, and he’s the most amazing kisser ever. She’s never had better and sees stars the moment his tongue glides into her mouth.
I’m here to set the record straight and tell you that all of those things do exist with the right person.
Does that happen with Cason?
Yes. All of it. He cups my cheeks, treats me with carefulness but still, there’s a spark of bad boy in there I’m dying to see come out and command the situation.
Deepening the kiss, he pushes me back against the seat. I hold onto his shoulders, never wanting him to stop kissing me. If I had to attribute his kissing to anything, I think it might be similar to… oh, fuck, I don’t know. I can’t think with his tongue in my mouth. It’s too much.
“Jesus Christ,” Cason gasps, his mouth inching closer and closer, his tender sound shivering up my spine. “I’ve been dying to taste you.”
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that. “Me too” sounds weird because that’d mean I’m wanting to taste myself.
And “thank you” sounds conceited.
He doesn’t give me much of a chance before his right hand squeezes my thigh and slides up toward my ass. “Please tell me your house is close.” Peppering my lips with kisses, his hot mouth moves to my neck. “I can’t take much more of this teasing.”
“Not far,” I manage to say between kisses, a cluster of goose bumps tightening my nipples.
I move my hand from his shoulder, finding the hem of his shirt. Without much thinking, I sneak my hand to the bare skin beneath it.
Cason sucks in a quick breath, his kiss faltering. His stomach is rock-fucking-hard. Every inch of him I explore in the ten minutes it takes to get to my house is toned and tight. What I don’t touch is the juncture between his thighs. I’m saving myself. I mean, I’m saving that glorious moment because, girl, I’m well aware of the bulge there.