* * * *
An hour later, Patrick pulled up to 290 Pod Street and my salt box-shaped abode. “Nice place you have here,” he said.
I leaned into him and kissed him with an open mouth and my eyes closed. The kiss was long and potent, exactly the way I wanted it. I attempted to melt him, which I think I accomplished on various levels, sexually, physically, and mentally. Once the kiss ended, I pulled away from him and brushed two fingers against my lips.
“I’ll call you.”
“Not if I call you first.”
“I had a great time, Patrick. I want to do this again. You need to invite me on a wedding date again. What do you say?”
He shook his head. “I got in your pants. That’s all I wanted from you. There’s no reason to see you again.” And then he busted out in an ear-to-ear grin that melted me.
I rolled a palm along his chest, patted one of his pecs, and said, “You’ll be missed until I see you again.”
“Good to know. And likewise.”