I smile. Jim’s here—Jameson wouldn’t ask me what I wanted to do. “Didn’t you mention Italian?”
He leans in and kisses me, with just the right amount of suction to raise my feet from the floor. My arms go around his neck, and we stand in the street and stare at each other. “You really do turn me on, Emily Foster,” he breathes.
I smile as I pull my fingers through his dark hair. “Did you come all the way across town to make out with me on the street?” I ask innocently.
“No.” He smirks. “But now that I’m here, it’s the only thing I want to do.”
We kiss again, and it’s slow and tender, and I feel my arousal fly in like a 747.
His hard length makes an appearance up against my stomach, and I smile broadly.
“What?”
“Is he coming to dinner?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Well, he does seem to want
