Page 26 of A Million Times, Yes

He kissed me again, but this time, he didn’t use his tongue. And this time, he held me even tighter. I didn’t just hear him breathe me in—I felt it.

“Tell me something,” he said when he moved his mouth away. “You mentioned no one has ever gotten you to swallow before, but you never told me why you did it with me.”

“I didn’t?” I hoped that if I acted coy, he would drop it.

He chuckled as if he sensed exactly what I was doing. “No. You didn’t.”

When I’d said it, I was sexed up. But now, slightly sex sober, I wish I hadn’t mentioned it.

“I don’t know, Jordan. In that moment, something happened and I had the desire to. I’m not sure why, it just happened ... and it felt right.”

“You mean, like not using a condom? How that, out of nowhere, when it’s something neither of us ever do, also felt right?”

I nodded.

“What’s interesting about this, Maya, is that I never go back for seconds. You should know it’s not my thing.” He stroked my cheek. “Just like dating.”

I tried to stop my eyes from widening. “And you’re telling me this, why?”

“Since we fucked under the bridge, I’ve thought of nothing but you.” He lifted my face, pointing my chin up toward his. “You haven’t left my mind. Not even once.”

Two statements that wrapped around me like a hug. “Sounds like you want to date me—you know, if you did that kind of thing.”

His gaze intensified. “What is it about you that I can’t seem to get enough of?”

“Maybe it’s the spandex.”

He chuckled. “Well, there’s that, yes.” He searched my eyes. “But it’s more. You’re like this special concoction that a chef whips together and is so fucking good, you want to go back to the restaurant the next night.” His voice was getting grittier. “And the night after that.”

“Now you’re comparing me to food?” I winked.

“It’s fitting, given that I can’t stop dreaming about your pussy and how badly I want to fucking eat it.”

I couldn’t breathe. “What’s stopping you?”

“Your roommates. You said they’re home at this hour, didn’t you?”

“Don’t you have an apartment?”

He seemed to really think about my question, which I couldn’t understand. Where he lived should be an easy answer.

“I do,” he finally said. “But it’s a mess. It’s ... getting sprayed.”

“Sprayed?”

“The whole building had an uptick in roaches.”

I wrapped my arms around my waist. “I’m not going to lie, the thought of that—regardless of how common they are in this city and how often I see them—makes me want to die.”

“That’s why I’m not bringing you there. I’m actually moving into a hotel tonight. I’ll be staying there for a few days. You should come over.”

“Tonight?”

He smiled. “Is that your way of telling me you have plans?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll be seeing you this evening?”