Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart (45 page)

I am stunned. The things that made
me look awkward in high school seem to be what interested him about me. Of
course, I wore contacts tonight. "Are you in engineering?" I ask. "What
are you going to specialize in? I’m intending to do soils engineering." Now
that I know he’s not afraid of geekdom, I can talk openly to him.

He grins. "That’s my plan too.
Geological and soils engineering. I’d like to get a good job for an oil
company. That way I could look after my mom and my sisters."

The soup comes to our table, served
by a small, slim woman in a floor-length blue satin dress.

The soup, spicy and flavored with
lime, makes me think I’ve died and gone to heaven.

"This is incredible," I
say softly to him.

"Wait until you try the curry."

I’m nervous. I’ve always assumed on
a date I should try to be…perfect. But I have no idea how to do that. "I’ve
never tried curry before. It sounds far more exotic than anything I’ve ever
eaten." And strange, too, but I don’t say that.  Coconut milk, bamboo
shoots, red curry paste. "The most adventurous I’ve been in my past was
eating chili."

As the dishes are set in front of
us, along with sticky jasmine rice, Sawyer asks me about my hometown. And my
family.

For a first date, I know I should
avoid talking about sad and intense things, but when he hears I have a younger
brother he asks me questions. Finally I admit, "My brother was sick for a
lot of the time I was in high school. He has colitis, and he experiences a lot
of pain with it."

"I’m sorry," he says
gently. He touches my hand. Just a soft stroke of his fingers. I’ve never felt
anything like it. It feels soothing and sweet, but it also steals my breath.

"My mom was sick," he
says. "She’s had a couple of bouts with cancer. It’s not the same as when
it happens to a kid brother or sister, but I think I understand a little of
what you’ve gone through."

 "Now it’s my turn to say I’m
sorry. Is she all right now?"

Sawyer nods. "After the last
round of chemotherapy and radiation, she’s in remission."

"That’s so good to hear. Does
she live far away from here?"

"She lives in the middle of
the country now, near my older brother." He offers me more of the
plates—we were served communal plates of red chicken curry, green curry,
stir-fried vegetables, and something incredibly amazing with beef and kaffir
lime and coriander.

"This food is incredible.
Thank you for bringing me here."

"You’re welcome." He
smiles again. "My mom is the one who taught me to appreciate incredible
food like this. On weekends, she would make her own curry pastes for Thai
curries and blend spices for Indian dishes. She taught me to appreciate spicy
food." He sips his tea. "She’s always been slender and healthy, and
she eats stuff like vegetables all the time. I could never figure out how she
got sick."

"That’s how I felt about my
brother. I used to ask: what did we do wrong? But we didn’t do anything wrong."

"No, you didn’t," he
says. "Sometimes fate is a bitch."

My throat catches. I’ve thought
that so many times.

I realize he’s looking intently at
my eyes. "Sorry," he says. "I shouldn’t get so depressing on a
first date."

"It’s okay. I understand. I
know how hard it is to try to talk about unimportant stuff when you’re worried
about someone."

"I want to find out more about
you, Claire. That’s really important to me."

Under the table, my knees quiver.
Seriously.

When we leave the restaurant, he
slips his arm around my waist. Walking beside him, I feel tiny. My head reaches
his shoulder. A cool autumn wind whirls leaves around our feet as we walk. We
leave his car, as it’s only two blocks to the theatre.

Westingham’s movie theatre is in an
old clapboard building and it plays up the small New England town feel. Movie
posters are tacked up outside.

Sawyer says it’s my choice—he’s
happy to watch anything I want. There’s a romantic comedy, an action movie, and
a serious drama. I go for the comedy. I figure there should be enough
raunchiness built into it to make it guy-acceptable.

We take a seat near the back. I
have the popcorn on my lap and I’m munching (it’s drenched in that gooey
buttery stuff—oh yeah), when Sawyer puts his arm around me again. My heart
leaps as his fingers stroke my shoulder.

Does he think this is the lead up
to a one night stand? What if he does? I
asked
him for one. Could I
actually do it?

The truth is, I really, really want
him. But to jump right into bed with him?

I ache to do something physical to
him in the theatre. Run my foot along his? Touch his leg? Kiss him?

I’m paralysed by a lack of daring
when suddenly a woman on screen yanks off her shirt and two of the largest
breasts in history bounce toward the camera. She’s supposed to be attempting to
seduce the hero. I guess the hero’s struggle is that if he’s true to love, he
doesn’t get to play with the huge boobs.

I squirm a little in my seat and
shoot a glance at Sawyer. A lot of the guys in the audience are laughing,
obviously attempting to deal with the sudden shot of arousal over being faced
by boobs that could smother them.

Sawyer looks…bemused. That’s the
only word to describe it. He has one brow raised. Then he bends over to me. "Sorry.
I had no idea it was this kind of movie. You okay with it? We could go."

"Uh, I’m okay."

His mouth is so close to mine. Then
he leans in that last inch and his mouth covers mine.  He tastes of
butter-stuff from the popcorn. Of heat. His lips are so soft, but firm too. He
captures my lower lip between his, tugs lightly, lets me go.

Desire rushes through me. I really
squirm on the seat.

On screen, the large breasts are
bouncing over the hero’s head. Sparkly red heart-shaped pasties cover her
nipples—to get the appropriate rating, I guess. If the nipples aren’t bare, all
that wobbly naked flesh is okay.

Sawyer isn’t paying any attention
to the defy-gravity boobs. His lips brush my ear. It is barely a touch, but I feel
like he just stroked me with a sparkler. Hot, tingly, sizzling.

I turn and kiss him on his
gorgeous, sensual lips. In my excitement—and nervousness—I do it too hard. His
kiss was slow and seductive. I know mine is clumsy.

His hand comes up and I expect he’s
going to break the kiss. Instead, he tenderly cups my cheek and guides me,
turning my awkward attempt into a hot, sensual open-mouthed ecstasy of a kiss.

I’m necking in a theatre. I’ve
never done this.

I always thought it was weird that
kissing is acceptable—that no one thinks much of it, and it’s okay to do it in
public. It’s your mouth engaged with someone else’s mouth. It seems like the
most intimate thing in the world, since your mouth is part of your head. When I
think about it, joining private parts seems like a more distant form of contact
than mouths.

Of course I would never voice these
things. I would sound geeky, weird, socially strange.

Sawyer’s kiss makes me spin. I feel
like I’m whirling in dizzying circles. And I want more. Daringly, I touch his
forearm. It’s like stroking iron, even through his jacket.

"I should put the popcorn on
the floor," I murmur against his mouth.

He moves it for me, then his strong
arm slides around me and he draws me into a deep kiss that sets me on fire.

 His seductive mouth melts me,
turns me into a gasping, moaning puddle of desire. I’m floating in the heat he
exudes, in the sexy, unique scent of his skin. He moves from my mouth and
nuzzles my jaw, then my neck. My head falls back as I go weak with desire. I
moan way too loud.

People turn. I clamp my hand over
my mouth. Look at Sawyer with horror.

"I’ll stop," he murmurs.

"No. Let’s get out of here."

"My place?" he says.

Maybe this is it. Where our date
moves into a hot sexual encounter and I get to try everything I’ve dreamed of
with the most gorgeous guy on earth. Not to mention a guy who kisses like a
god. A guy who saved a little boy’s life by being smart, observant, and having
quick reflexes.

"Yeah.
Your place sounds good," I say. This could be it—my night to experience
sex, if I want to. Inside, I’m trembling with uncertainty.

* * *

We reach his house, and three of
his roommates are sprawled on a large sofa in the living room, watching a
horror movie. The fourth, who has a shaved head, large dark eyes, and
copper-brown skin is in the kitchen, stirring pasta. A girl watches him cook,
while she drinks a huge glass of red wine. Sawyer introduces me to them all,
but I’m so fixated on wondering what is going to happen next—trying to guess
what Sawyer wants and decide what I want, that I don’t remember their names.

Sawyer holds my hand, threading his
fingers through mine. "Do you want to go to my room?"

I am struck dumb by the physical
contact. Then stutter. "Y-yeah."

I guess this is how the one night
stand happens. His room is the only place we’ll have privacy. I want to be
alone with him. I want to kiss him more. I want him.

The problem is that I want him, but
I never dreamed of going to bed with a guy I barely know. If I do it, I do it
with the acceptance that this will probably be just for this night. No matter
how exciting and thrilling it is, it may never happen again.

I like Sawyer. That’s what makes my
stomach clench in knots.

I want to see him again. Have a
date with him again. Talk to him again.

Definitely
kiss
him again.

He opens the door to his room and I
step inside.

So many things hit me at once. His
bedroom is huge. So is his bed. I’m in the room he does the most intimate
things in, like sleep. Get naked. Has sex.

One glance at the bed and I picture
Sawyer on top of it. On top of me. I can imagine how beautiful his naked back
would be. Wide, wide shoulders. Big muscles beneath smooth, velvet skin. And my
hands clutching his back as he thrusts into me—

I almost sway on my feet as desire
streaks through me.

He closes the door and leans his
elbow against it, bending down to me. I have my back against the door, gazing
up at him. I barely come up to his shoulder.

With his full, soft lips that are
almost pouting right now, he has the sexiest mouth I’ve ever seen.

That mouth touches mine.

Sparks more than fly. They shoot
though my body and burst into flame.

Sawyer presses me back against the
door. The kiss gets so deep, it’s bottomless. I wrap my arms around his neck,
press my breasts to him. For once, I’m pleased I have fairly generous breasts.

We kiss forever. It feels endless.
With each second, I grow hotter and hotter. My heart races. Races because I
love kissing him, I’m so aroused I could scream, and because I’m certain, at
any minute, he’s going to lead me to the bed.

And I might lose my virginity.

Other than in wild fantasies, I
always thought my first time would be preceded by a relationship. But I’ve
never wanted a guy with such ferocious lust. Not even Trey.

My hands glide over Sawyer’s
shoulders. I breathe in the scent of his skin, his hair. Musky but clean. I
want to be underneath him while he pounds wildly into me.

Sexual need actually hurts. It
hurts bad.

Tension tightens inside me.
Say
yes. Say no.
The warring battle in my head is going to consume me.

I’m about to scream, and in wild
desperation, I pull back from his mouth. He’s gorgeous and I’m tired of waiting
for a relationship. I’m nineteen. "I know you just do one night stands,"
I say. "And I want one."

He looks at me, his arm braced
against the door over my head. "Not with you, Claire."

Not
with me?

Then he leans down and he kisses me
like a god. I’ve read in romance novels about kisses that are scorching.
Masterful. Steamy. Dizzying.

Orgasmic. His are almost orgasmic.
I’m panting into his mouth, so hot and needy that I fight not to whimper.

Is it because I haven’t really
kissed before? Or is this all Sawyer?

He stops and strips off his shirt.
I watch the hem slide up, revealing his flat washboard abs, his navel, then the
taut, hard muscles of his wide chest. He’s lean and hard. He’s…perfect.

But what does he mean—not with me? "You
want me to go?" My voice catches.

"I don’t want just one night
with you."

I’m trying to process that as he
takes my hand and leads me to his big bed.

At the side of his bed, I take a
deep breath. I free my hands from his; haul off my pink sweater, revealing my
breasts cupped in my bra.

Next thing I know, I’m on my back
on his bed. His head bends to my breasts, held in my simple bra. I’m not built
like the rom-com girl with the huge bazooms, but my chest is respectable.