Read Online Temporary Bliss by BJ Harvey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: BJ Harvey
Tags: Contemporary
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with a picture of a fork and a spoon and the caption ‘Spooning leads to Forking’ (not my finest moment) and leggings. Daniel looks like sex on legs with his black slacks and his open white business shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off some impressive forearms. I bet he could do push-ups above me while he….
Shit! Where was I? Oh, yeah.
“Ah, as you can see, I’m not dressed for public consumption,” I can feel the blush creeping up my cheeks. God, you don’t let any prospective bed mate see you in your lounge around home ensemble until AFTER you’ve slept together.
“To be honest, Mac, seeing you like this? It’s sexy as fuck,” he says with a grin. “How about we just stay here for lunch? Then I can check you out in private. As long as you don’t mind me intruding,” he adds with a hint of uncertainty in his tone.
Wow, looks like fun, flirtatious, dirty Daniel is in the house today. I’m liking all the different sides of Daniel I’ve seen so far, maybe a bit too much. It doesn’t stop me from taking a step forward and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.
“Sounds good.”
Stepping to the side, I hold my hand out, directing him in like a cop standing on an intersection. You’re such a dork, Mac!
“Would you like a drink?” I ask, walking into the kitchen and opening the fridge to see what I can even offer. “We’ve got OJ, Water, Milk...oooh, there are two bottles of Millers left.”
“Would be a shame to let a Miller got to waste,” he says behind me as he places the food on the breakfast bar.
“Damn, a man after my own heart,” I say without engaging my stupidity filter.
I turn around, holding the two bottles in my hand, and when I see the look on his face, I’m speechless. His eyes have softened, and he’s giving me the sexiest grin I’ve ever seen. “You never know your luck in the big city, Mac,” he adds, copying my earlier comment. “But for now, enough with the flirting or else I’ll forget all about this food and devour you for lunch.”
Nope, I was wrong. Now I’m the one with the goofy look on my face. Inner Mac is screaming at him ‘Devour me, devour me now!’
I shake my head, trying to regain my composure. Daniel chuckles as he takes a seat on a bar stool and starts pulling out our lunch, which looks more like a gourmet spread than a deli lunch.
Yet another mark in his favor.
In the blink of an eye, it’s Thursday and almost time for my third date with Daniel. Yes, third date. This is a miracle, at least for me.
I’m not a dater. I may accept a drink or two from a handsome stranger at a bar, or meet up with a friend with benefits for a drink and a game of pool, but since I’ve been back living in Chicago I’ve only been on a handful of dates. Kate is the dater. I love her dearly, but she’s always had the delusional belief of love at first sight and happy ever afters. She’s a hopeless romantic, which, unfortunately, means that she’s had more than her fair share of heartbreak over the years.
I now have her heartbreak process worked out, and have perfected a technique to handle them, down to a fine art.
Day 1 involves pajamas, Ben & Jerry’s, and a DVD marathon of Supernatural or Gossip Girl. There is nothing like a bit of Sam and Dean, or Chuck Bass to make a girl feel better.
Day 2 is her angry stage, where she wants to wring the neck of every member of the male race with her bare hands. On those days, we consume large quantities of vodka and Red Bull. Tequila shots have also been known to make a welcome appearance. The hangovers we have by the next day suck, but generally by day three, Kate is ready to jump back on the horse, or the next available male so to speak.
I get home from work before Kate does, having skipped out an hour early to pop down to Michigan Avenue and find a hot new top to wear for my date. I know Daniel wants to take me to Navy Pier. Part of me is hoping we end up at Pier Park and get stuck at the top of the
Shit! Where was I? Oh, yeah.
“Ah, as you can see, I’m not dressed for public consumption,” I can feel the blush creeping up my cheeks. God, you don’t let any prospective bed mate see you in your lounge around home ensemble until AFTER you’ve slept together.
“To be honest, Mac, seeing you like this? It’s sexy as fuck,” he says with a grin. “How about we just stay here for lunch? Then I can check you out in private. As long as you don’t mind me intruding,” he adds with a hint of uncertainty in his tone.
Wow, looks like fun, flirtatious, dirty Daniel is in the house today. I’m liking all the different sides of Daniel I’ve seen so far, maybe a bit too much. It doesn’t stop me from taking a step forward and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.
“Sounds good.”
Stepping to the side, I hold my hand out, directing him in like a cop standing on an intersection. You’re such a dork, Mac!
“Would you like a drink?” I ask, walking into the kitchen and opening the fridge to see what I can even offer. “We’ve got OJ, Water, Milk...oooh, there are two bottles of Millers left.”
“Would be a shame to let a Miller got to waste,” he says behind me as he places the food on the breakfast bar.
“Damn, a man after my own heart,” I say without engaging my stupidity filter.
I turn around, holding the two bottles in my hand, and when I see the look on his face, I’m speechless. His eyes have softened, and he’s giving me the sexiest grin I’ve ever seen. “You never know your luck in the big city, Mac,” he adds, copying my earlier comment. “But for now, enough with the flirting or else I’ll forget all about this food and devour you for lunch.”
Nope, I was wrong. Now I’m the one with the goofy look on my face. Inner Mac is screaming at him ‘Devour me, devour me now!’
I shake my head, trying to regain my composure. Daniel chuckles as he takes a seat on a bar stool and starts pulling out our lunch, which looks more like a gourmet spread than a deli lunch.
Yet another mark in his favor.
In the blink of an eye, it’s Thursday and almost time for my third date with Daniel. Yes, third date. This is a miracle, at least for me.
I’m not a dater. I may accept a drink or two from a handsome stranger at a bar, or meet up with a friend with benefits for a drink and a game of pool, but since I’ve been back living in Chicago I’ve only been on a handful of dates. Kate is the dater. I love her dearly, but she’s always had the delusional belief of love at first sight and happy ever afters. She’s a hopeless romantic, which, unfortunately, means that she’s had more than her fair share of heartbreak over the years.
I now have her heartbreak process worked out, and have perfected a technique to handle them, down to a fine art.
Day 1 involves pajamas, Ben & Jerry’s, and a DVD marathon of Supernatural or Gossip Girl. There is nothing like a bit of Sam and Dean, or Chuck Bass to make a girl feel better.
Day 2 is her angry stage, where she wants to wring the neck of every member of the male race with her bare hands. On those days, we consume large quantities of vodka and Red Bull. Tequila shots have also been known to make a welcome appearance. The hangovers we have by the next day suck, but generally by day three, Kate is ready to jump back on the horse, or the next available male so to speak.
I get home from work before Kate does, having skipped out an hour early to pop down to Michigan Avenue and find a hot new top to wear for my date. I know Daniel wants to take me to Navy Pier. Part of me is hoping we end up at Pier Park and get stuck at the top of the
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