Braxton and I return to the party. Marta is all too eager to hear why we disappeared for so long. We stay until past midnight, and then Braxton and I walk home together.
He leads me right up to my apartment door, as usual. I unlock my door and step inside. Spinning on my heel, I turn back to face him. Braxton stands in my doorway, his hands in his front pockets.
“Want to go out with me tomorrow night?” He asks abruptly, taking me by surprise.
I blink a few times. “I-yeah, okay!”
He smiles and nods. “Good. I’ll work out the details and text you.”
“Sure.” I hover awkwardly, wondering whether we should hug or something.
Braxton takes control. He removes his hands from his pockets, grabs my waist and pulls me against him. He presses his lips to mine and I sink into his touch. His lips move confidently over mine, kissing me in a way that makes me want to invite him in, rather than say goodnight. He pulls back and pecks my nose softly.
“Night, Melia,” he murmurs, his voice raspy.
“Goodnight, Braxton,” I reply in an unintentionally breathy voice.
I watch him walk away, appreciating the view of his ass in his black jeans. He was right, it is a cute butt.
Saturday night, Braxton King picks me up from my apartment. He is wearing a very similar outfit to the ones he wears to work, shirt and smart trousers. However, there’s no tie and those top buttons are open again, tempting me.
“You look so beautiful,” he compliments me.
“Thank you.” I blush as his compliment.
I grab my things and we walk downstairs. Braxton eyes my shoes.
“It’s a ten-minute walk to the restaurant I’ve booked, do you want to get a taxi?” He asks me, gesturing to my heels.
I shrug. “No, it’s okay. These are quite comfy.”
“Alright but let me know if you change your mind.”
He offers out his elbow to me and I rest my hand in the crook of it. The evening air is chilly, but clear. I stay close to Braxton as we walk. I recognise the restaurant. I’ve been there before, but quite a while ago.
“Have you eaten here before?” Braxton asks as he opens the door for me.
I tell him about my meal here with Marta. The hostess notes our reservation and leads us to a secluded table. We get comfortable and peruse the menu. I thought the meal would be no different to us having lunch together. I thought it would feel the same because we eat together at work so often. But it doesn’t, it feels different, in a good way.
I’m conscious of the fact it is a date, not two colleagues having food together. Braxton is different as well. If I thought he was flirty at work, there is nothing holding him back now.
We take ages eating our food because we can’t stop talking. Out of the work setting, we’re comfortable talking about more personal things.
I find out about his childhood, his friends, his interests. We decline the suggestion of dessert but choose to have another drink. I can feel how flushed my cheeks are, from the happiness I’m feeling, and the flirtatious comments Braxton can’t help but make.
Finally, we decide to call it a night. Braxton links our hands together as we walk home.
He takes me to my door, and I don’t want the night to be over yet.
“Do you want to come in for a drink?” I ask him as I lean against my door.
He grins at me. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Do you want to?” I reply with a smile.
“Yes, please. That sounds nice.”
I unlock my door and let us both in. I switch on the lights and head straight to the kitchen.
I pour us both a glass of white wine and we move to my sofa. We sit down next to each other, and both turn slightly, so that we’re facing each other. Only our knees are touching, but that tiny bit of contact makes me excited. We chat some more and drink our wine.
When we’ve finished our drinks and put our empty glasses on the coffee table, our eyes lock, and the sexual tension between us becomes palpable. I’d like to blame the alcohol for my lack of inhibitions. I lean in at the same time Braxton does. Our lips meet and my heart flutters. He is my happy place. Kissing him is my new favourite thing to do.
Braxton’s hands go to my waist. He squeezes my hips as his tongue caresses mine. At some point, he lifts me up and I move with him. I straddle him on the sofa and bury my fingers in his hair. His dark locks are short but soft as hell between my fingers. I tug on them until he groans into my mouth.
I can feel just how much he’s enjoying this kiss. His substantial erection is pressing directly between my legs and is doing nothing to calm me down. His tongue nudges mine one more time before he pulls back. His breathing is shallow and rapid. Mine is too.
“Fuck, baby,” he whispers. “What are you doing to me?”
I smile at his sweet words and softly peck his lips. “I could ask you the same question, King,” I whisper my reply and he chuckles.
Our compromising position starts to sink in, and I climb off his lap. I sigh and run my hands through my hair. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. I just got out of a long-term relationship, and I don’t want to be jumping into bed with the first guy I see.
“I’m sorry about that,” I tell him, and he scoffs.
“I’m not,” he replies firmly.
“Well, I am. Look, I think we should take things slow. I know my actions don’t exactly reflect that, but that was impulsive of me and I’m sorry.”
Braxton frowns but reaches for my hand. He holds it between both of his. “Of course. We can go at your pace, Melia. I don’t want to rush you.”
I groan and close my eyes briefly. “Ugh, when you say stuff like that, it makes me want to kiss you again.”
He grins. “That’s okay, I’m not stopping you, baby.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Seriously, I don’t want to rush into things. And I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. I just got out of a relationship a month ago, I don’t want to jump into bed with someone straight away.”
I don’t want him thinking that I’m using him as a rebound, or that this isn’t serious.
Braxton nods. “I get that, don’t worry. Don’t go thinking that’s all I’m after either, Melia. That’s not what I’m here for.”
God, I want more than anything to jump his bones right now. The man is perfection both in body and soul.
“Good to know.” I give him a relieved smile.
He stands up suddenly. “I should get off, now.”
He offers out his hand to me and I take it. He pulls me up, so that I am standing next to him.
“Thank you for tonight, it was honestly so great,” I tell him by the door.
“Thank you, too. We should do it again, soon,” he suggests, and I nod in agreement.
“I’m going to use the gym tomorrow, if you ever want to join me, let me know,” he says, taking me by surprise.
Not everyone likes a workout buddy. Some people prefer to exercise alone. “Really?”
“Yeah, of course. It’ll be fun, us working out together,” he says.
The smirk on his face tells me that he and I have very different ideas of ‘fun’ right now. Somehow, I get the feeling he’s implying something sexual. That’s usually a safe bet with Braxton King.
“Okay then, sure. What time were you thinking?”
He grins at my agreement. “Probably about 10/11? Work up an appetite for lunch?” He suggests.
Braxton gives me a kiss on the cheek, bids me goodnight and goes back to his own apartment. I shut the door behind him, my stomach, vajayjay, heart and brain all at complete odds with one another. Half of me wants to leap straight into this. It’s hard to resist a man like Braxton King. But the rational part of me is telling me to go slow and not rush into things.
I want to make sure that I’m doing this right, that we are as perfect for each other as we seem to be. I want Braxton to know me completely and know what he’s signing himself up for if he wants to date me.
Mark and I had some nasty shocks with how different we are. I don’t want that with Braxton, he needs to go into this with his eyes wide open. That being said, I just had the best fucking date ever with the hottest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.
Braxton texts me at ten on Sunday, asking if I’ll be ready for half past. I meet him in the gym at about twenty past. I’m usually early for everything and it seems he is the same. We discuss what we were thinking of doing and both go to the treadmills for a warm-up first. We run next to each other for fifteen minutes, dropping to a light jog after five.
Once I’ve caught my breath back, we move over to the weights. I start on the leg press whilst Braxton does some bench lifts. It’s hard not get distracted when you have such eye candy near you. He’s wearing a black vest that shows off all of the bugling muscles in his thick arms. Watching him bench press weights, making his muscles flex, is both a treat and torture at the same time.
It’s soft porn like this that makes it hard to go slow.
I look up from my phone to see Braxton stood next to me. There is a thin layer of perspiration on his forehead and his cheeks are flushed. He’s so fucking hot.
“Will you spot me, please?” He asks.
Will I check out your backside under the pretence of spotting you? Of course.
“Sure.” I stand behind him and try to get my eyes at the right height, not letting them drop to his perfect ass.
It’s hard. With every squat, it’s pushed out towards me. Instead, my eyes are locked onto his flexing back muscles, that are partially visible in his vest.
Jesus. This is torture.
I barely notice when he finishes and puts the bar down. “Thanks, Melia,” he says casually.
I snap out of my trance and shake my head. “Anytime!”
Any. Time. Please