Page 55 of Stolen Dreams
“Thirty.”
Twelve years. Wow. Just… wow.
I understand and somewhat respect why my family is trying to play matchmaker. They want to be sure I land a worthy partner, someone who compliments my intelligence, ambition, and our culture.
But there is more to life than having an outwardly upstanding person at your side.
I want a true match. Someone whose personality and quirks complement mine. Whose ambitions and outlook reflect my own. Whose passion and hunger for their partner is unrivaled and not something thatbuilds with time.
“Not sure how your family was with your sister, but mine has been more passive-aggressive. Hints. New dinner guests at family gatherings.” I look skyward. “Next week, they want me to have dinner with a doctor in town.”
“Are you?”
I inch closer to him. Step between his legs, lightly press my chest to his and subtly shake my head. “There’s a conference I said yes to, but I declined dinner.”
His entire body sags. “Sorry.” He drops his forehead to mine, closes his eyes, and inhales a shaky breath. “This conversationwent the wrong direction.” He gives my hands a reassuring squeeze.
“You said younger sister,” I blurt out then bite my bottom lip, my face scorching.
Why, Kaya? Why?
A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he cracks an eye open. “You asking if I’m an old man, Fire Eyes?”
I squirm. “No.” Those two letters hold zero conviction.
Eyes downcast, he rests a hand over his heart and mutters, “I’m sensitive about my age.” For a moment, neither of us says anything. He lifts his gaze to mine, his expression deadpan as he stares. Then he laughs. Hard and loud and from somewhere deep in his belly. I want to slap him.
“Joking, Fire Eyes.” He wraps my hand with his once more. “Thirty-seven next month.”
Surprisingly, our age difference doesn’t bother me. If anything, I find his maturity attractive. Alluring.
My thumbs caress the length of his as I drop my forehead to his chest and groan. “Gotta go.” I huff, lift my head, and meet his rich browns. “See you in the morning.”
He shuffles impossibly closer, his dark irises invading my vision, holding mine captive. “Say yes to another date.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “Yes.”
His instantaneous smile is radiant, captivating, infectious. “Does Sunday work?”
“Sunday’s perfect.”
Then his lips are on mine. Soft, warm, coaxing. He licks the seam of my lips, an unspoken request for more. Tipping my head, I part my lips in silent permission and open for him. His tongue dives in and tangles with mine. He tastes sweet and savory, and like him. I groan, and he melts into the kiss.
He unfurls our hands and bands his arms around my waist. I ghost mine up his chest, around his neck, and run my fingersthrough his hair. The kiss lasts less than a minute but feels infinite.
“Spend the whole day with us,” he says when he breaks the kiss.
Us.I love that our dates include Tucker. It’s such a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. Says I’m more than someone to warm his sheets for a night or two.
“I’d like that.”
His mouth drops to mine in a chaste kiss. “I should get back.”
“And I’m probably late.” I wince.
Totally worth it, though.
He presses his lips to mine one last time then steps back. “Go. Before I don’t let you leave.”