Page 81 of On Merit Alone

Again. I didn’t protest, fitting myself in front of him comfortably. The heels brought me just under him, which I didn’t mind because it meant his lips were that much easier to reach—lips that he couldn’t seem to keep off of me today.

Every chance he got, he placed kisses on my jaw or at my neck or took my mouth like it was the first time he’d tasted me.

His hands graduated from running along the plains of my back to palming the curves of my hips to all out gripping my ass as he held me close to him.

I was getting dizzy from all the attention and heated by his teasing tastes.

It must have been affecting him too because, in addition to the heavy piece of anatomy that he had pressing into my belly, when he finally pulled away from me and came up for air, he let his lazy eyes trail my body shamelessly before asking, “So what did we decide to put on underneath?”

A laugh bubbled out of my throat like soap overflowing from a cup.

He was too much. But I was actually loving it.

I’d never been showered with so much attention in my life.

Not for just me, at least. Everyone always praised me for my skills as a basketball player, but not as a woman.

Ira was rectifying that with every heated glance and wanton word.

“You rejected my offer to help,” I said. “So you aren’t privy to that information.”

He hummed in mock disappointment, then with all the confidence of a man who knew he’d get what he wanted, he said, “Damn, I hate having to wait. But I guess I’ll find out later.”

“Later?” I asked, eyebrow cocked. “What’s happening later?”

“Oh, I plan on getting you drunk and happy,” he said, hands still pulling me closer.

“Ira! We’re going to work ,” I said with another laugh, this one more of a guffaw. He could not be serious. Which also reminded me… “And why are we going so early, anyway?”

Dark eyes landed on me in a steady stare.

“Come on now, Six,” he said, his voice lowering. “Do you really think I’m going to share you with a million other people looking like this before I get to have you?”

My lips parted. I felt an immediate reaction to the low timbre of his voice at the apex of my thighs. My good sense left the room as I asked for clarification. “ Have me?”

He smiled, a huff of a laugh falling from his lips. Then he lowered those lips to mine as he spoke, “That mind of yours is always in the gutter. A date, baby. We’re going on a date.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.”

“I’m not, I’m happy, but…”

He chuckled, “But you would rather I lift your skirt right here in the kitchen instead?”

I shrugged. That sounded okay to me. His chuckle got deeper.

“You will, without a doubt, be the death of me,” he laughed. And then he pulled away, his fingers threaded through mine as he began to pull me along. “But we gotta go. C’mon.”

Hours later, Ira had delivered on his promise. Though I wasn’t drunk since we were indeed still going to work, I was so happy.

After locking up and promising that he had scheduled Cash’s dog walker to come by and check on him, Ira took me to a dessert bar downtown.

It was a pretty popular spot, the kinds we usually tried to stay away from.

The more people around, the more likely he was to be both recognized and bothered by fans simply wanting to meet him.

But apparently he was willing to both brave the crowded bar and fend off the brave few who came up to him for me, and this serious attempt at “taking me out for real.”

The gesture meant a lot, even though he couldn’t follow through on it. About two seconds after he sent the first fans away, a couple who had just moved to Denver and their first date in the city was one of Ira’s games—Ira’s head suddenly hung mid-conversation, a curse spilling from his mouth.

I tried my hardest to hide my smirk, but I couldn’t. Instead, I just said, “Hey, I?”

“Yeah? ”

“You know I don’t care if you sign a few autographs? I like that you love your fans,” I said.

His head shot up so fast. “Really?”

“Really.” I smiled. “So go catch them before they leave. They were so sweet.”

“They were,” he agreed, springing up from his seat and jogging toward the front of the bar to try and catch the couple.

Only, a couple steps into his getaway, he stopped and doubled back.

Jogging back to our table, he gave me zero opportunity to prepare before his lips were on mine.

Quick, but claiming. When he pulled back, he licked his lips, his eyes saying something entirely different from the simple words that came out of his mouth. “Thanks, Six. You’re the best.”

And then he was jogging away.

I sat there and watched his interaction with the couple.

Smiling as he smiled, laughing as he laughed.

Feeling connected to him even as he was a room away, not even looking at me.

And later, after I’d tasted all the desserts I wanted and drank hot chocolate and lattes before dinner, I sat with him on the top of a rooftop lounge he’d rented out for a couple hours for small plates and a tasting menu as we overlooked the city.

“Aren’t we going to be late?” I asked.

“Are you tired?” he answered with a question. I shook my head. “Then we’re good. We only have to be at that thing for like an hour, two tops. So I want to spend as much time with you alone as I can.”

“Is this how all your first dates go?” I asked.

I don’t know what made me ask this now after all the time we’d spent together.

I guess since I wasn’t actively looking to gain feelings for Ira, I hadn’t cared what I was like compared to his other girls.

But now, as I was realizing those feelings were there anyway and probably here to stay, I was curious.

“Not even close, Six. ”

“Well, what were they like?” I asked, peeking at him through my eyelashes.

He leaned back. We were sitting on lush outdoor lounge chairs, angled slightly toward each other and toward the glass railing that acted as the only barrier between us and the open air outside the building.

For most of the night, he’d sat with his arm outstretched between us, his hand on my thigh or my knee, running patterns up and down my limbs.

Now, with his elbow on the other arm of the chair, he looked at me.

His eyes trickled down the length of my face in inspection. I squinted my own eyes in preparation.

“Are we doing this now?” he asked.

“Doing what?”

“The whole dating history thing?”

I fidgeted. “Are we not there yet? Sorry, I’m not all that experienced with this.”

His laugh confused me. “No Six, we’re not there. Or at least I’m not. I’m light years beyond the point where I pretend like any woman before you comes close to the feeling you give me, or that there will be anyone after you.”

“Oh,” I said.

One side of his mouth lifted, his lips mirroring my response. With amused eyes, he said, “You still want to know, don’t you?”

I nodded. “Please?”

He shook his head. “Sweetheart. I'm thirty-four. I’ve had girlfriends, I’ve had casual relationships. I’ve done all the things you do when you have no idea what your future looks like. I wasn’t a saint. I wasn’t loose either. I just was waiting, I guess.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For you, Mer.”

My mouth went dry, words sticking there like pieces in glue. I didn't know how to follow that up. I didn't know what to say to any of it. I hardly knew how to process the fact that he was basically saying that I was it for him.

What did I do now?

“You look confused, baby.”

I blinked at him. “I am.”

“Well, I’m not. And that’s all you need to remember. For the rest of tonight and the rest of time. I'm not confused about this. Us,” he said. He extended his hand. “Come over here. It’s almost time for us to go.”

Doing what he asked, I dropped down into the space he made for me in his chair, settling in as his arm dropped around my waist and his hand landed on my thigh. With his other hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red box.

“Here,” he said, handing it to me.

Taking it, I ran my hand over the soft velvet of the box as I said, “What’s all this?”

“Nothing fancy. Open it,” he said, pulling me in closer to his side.

“I don’t think anything that’s not fancy comes in a box like this, Ira,” I breathed. My eyes searched his, but he just smiled softly, patting my knee and nodding toward the box again.

“Go on. Open it.”

Excited and a little overwhelmed that he got me something else, I did. And I lost my breath.

Flipping the top to the little case, I looked down to see gold. A necklace with a simple thin chain and a small pendant that looked like script in calligraphic cursive. The number “999” jumped out at me. My eyes were watering almost immediately.

“Ira…”

I didn't look at him, only because my eyes seemed to be stuck on the piece of jewelry—glued there. He was quiet and, for the life of me, I couldn't understand why. How could he be silent after giving me this ?

“Ira?” I said again. This time I got a soft hum in response. I blinked up to find his face serious as he watched me. “Why did you get this for me?”

His expression softened and he reached forward to grab one of my now shaking hands as he spoke. “I noticed you didn't wear any jewelry and I wanted to change that.”

“But this…” I shook my head, not even knowing how to finish that sentence.

“You put a lot of thought into your number. I figured you might appreciate what this one means,” he said cautiously. Like he was afraid to say it. “Even if it’s bittersweet.”

I swallowed, looking down at the number. “What does it mean?”

I knew the answer, but there was something special about knowing he knew it too.

“Completion,” he said steadily.

My heart twisted like it always did when I thought of that. When I thought of them. Of how, of course, my family’s prized numbers prophesied that it would one day end with them.