"Well I'm going to sit in my car because I'm cold" he started walking without so much as a glance in her direction.
That intrigued her, but left her a bit puzzled. From forced conversation in the coffee shop to parking? Didn't seem like he was taking it as slow as he claimed. There was a flutter in her stomach and it wasn't first-date jitters; in all honesty she knew it was her gut warning her away but her curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to study him more; wanted to find the real man that hid under the cocky façade.
Not that he was lacking reasons to be cocky -- he was beautiful. His face held sharp lines on his jaw, nose, and forehead; his eyes were brilliant blue that took in the environment in seconds; his skin was gold, with white and pink scars covering his large hands. His lips were thin and they never curled into a true smile, just a smirk which added to his arrogance. Broad shoulders and thick biceps were intimidating, conveying raw power that seemed to boil under his skin like his temper. He had a temper, she knew, as he showed up for their date pissed off and in a confrontational mood. She just wanted to appease him, relax him a little. Instinctively she knew that it was better to be friends than enemies with this man. She told herself that's why she followed him into the car. That and because he was so damn attractive.
He unlocked her door as she pulled the handle, sat down carefully, and finally closed the door. For some reason she felt that she was locking herself in with an animal. She took in her surroundings --higher end car, obviously new due to the dash, but she was ignorant when it came to cars. Her jacket hood pushed awkwardly into her neck and she debated pulling it off as he fiddled with the heat settings and started the car. He kept an eye on the time, announcing that he had 40 minutes left in the parking spot which was too expensive. He never shut up about money, she observed, and it irked her. She was the college student -- shouldn't she be the one bitching about being broke? And how is he broke but can afford such a pretty car, anyway? She noted it as another red flag while she turned to face him a bit.
He drummed on his knees for a moment, looking around the parking lot almost skittishly. He stopped and looked at her then smirked. "Good night," he said clearly as he dropped his head to her shoulder. Right. He was tired from work and waking up early and being consistently stressed as he informed her earlier.
"Whoa, wait a second," she protested. He looked up at her, a bit surprised. She grinned coyly, "You need a better pillow." Her hand slid over his neck and to his head, guiding him to her chest. Her breasts were well sized and pressed together in the bra she wore, open to the eye in her low cut shirt.
"Mmm, even better" he mumbled and traced his nose over the inside of her breast, down the valley, and up the other side.
She grinned, but inside she was kicking herself for her flirtatious instincts. It had to be because he was so attractive; that's why her mouth spit out a response, why her body reacted, without her conscious decision. She ran her fingers through his short hair, noting that the front was spiked up with gel. He seemed so uptight about his appearance. She scratched the crown of his head and he sighed contently, settling down on her chest while his hand roamed over her thigh.
Now she was no stranger to flirting or foreplay, but something about this man told her she was way in over her head. Maybe it was that he pointed out the girl who looked him over during the ten minutes they met over coffee. Maybe it was because he admitted that he didn't know how many women he had slept with. Maybe it was the jealous streak she could sense through the texts they exchanged before meeting up. She couldn't place one thing that sent off her internal alarm; it was a culmination of his texts and behaviors.
She stroked her fingers up and down his neck, knowingly. She loved giving massages; her forefinger and thumb kneaded the side of his neck before dragging down and back up. Her fingers spread, her index finger on the indention at the base of his head, her middle finger and thumb on either side stroking slowly, luxuriously. She continued for a couple minutes and they sat in silence. What they were waiting for, she didn't know. Part of her expected him to fall asleep and for a moment when his hand was still on her inner thigh, she believed he had. But no; he wouldn't sleep in front of her. Couldn't bring himself to be that vulnerable.
He sat up slowly, her hand trailing down his neck and shoulder before dropping to her side. He looked out his window and then turned, immediately taking her by the back of neck with his left hand. He kissed her softly, almost politely. She responded, letting her lips follow his. After a few seconds her instincts told her to pull back but she ignored them. It happened twice more -- she was unaccustomed to such long kisses, but it didn't feel forced. She took his lower lip into her mouth and sucked gently. His tongue traced her upper lip and she released him. Their tongues met and when his recoiled she bit his bottom lip lightly. His hand tightened in her hair but he showed no other reaction, did not retaliate. She released him a second time and his lips closed on hers, an open mouth kiss that didn't last quite long enough before he pulled away, looking out his window.
