“Hey. I thought I was supposed to pick you up.”

“I was ready sooner than I expected to be, so I figured I’d come to you.” I brush by him before he can make a move to step outside. “And I’m not really feeling the whole going out for dinner thing, so I think it would be best if you cancel the reservation, and we can have a night in instead.”

“You mean here?” He jams his hands in his pockets, and his eyes dart around nervously.

“Yes, here. Let’s order takeout. I don’t have to be at work until eleven tomorrow and your practice isn’t until noon. Let’s stay up late and watch a movie and cuddle on your couch.” Naked. I glance around the foyer. Like Kingston, it’s very tidy and well maintained.

The last time I was here, I was too busy making out with King to pay attention to my surroundings, and in the morning I was rushing to make a quiet exit.

I kick off my shoes and head down the hall. There are a couple of interesting pieces of art on his walls. Not stock pictures bought from some home-decor store but real art, possibly from someone local. I like that idea.

I keep going, though, determined now that I’m here and in his space once again. When I reach the living room, I run my hand along the back of the leather sectional couch. Memories from that night—new ones I’d forgotten until now—surface.

We’d kissed our way down the hall and bumped into the couch, and I’d ended up sitting on the back of it, my legs wrapped around King’s waist. I shrug out of my jacket, toss it over the arm, and hop up onto the back of it now, exactly as I’d been then.

Kingston’s hands are still shoved in his pockets, and he rocks back on his heels. “You’re sure you don’t want to go out for dinner? It’s a nice place. I haven’t taken you there before, and it’s a favorite of mine.” His throat bobs with another nervous swallow, and his gaze stays fixed on my legs as I cross them.

“Why don’t you want to be alone with me?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not that I don’t want to be alone with you.”

“But . . .”

His tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip. “I’m trying to date you.”

“We’ve been out four times in the past two weeks, and that’s with your insane schedule and all the travel. We also see each other pretty much daily. I think that all qualifies as dating, and it still doesn’t explain why you look like a caged rabbit right now.”

“I want to be a good boyfriend.”

“You are a good boyfriend.” He’s a great boyfriend. The best I’ve ever had. Almost too good to be true, really.

He looks at his feet, and the tips of his ears go red. “I’m trying to keep myself in check when I’m with you, but it’s hard when we’re alone.”

“Why would you want to keep yourself in check?”

He blows out a breath. “I want to show you that I appreciate more than your body.”

“I think you’ve covered that base pretty well with the whole asking my dad permission to date me, taking me out for dinner multiple times, and spending money on me without expecting a blow job at the end of the night.”

“Can we not talk about that?”

“About what?”

He motions to his crotch. Up until now I haven’t paid attention to it, but I sure am now. Kingston is hard. Rock hard, if I had to guess, considering I can see the outline of the ridge at the head, pushing up against his khakis.

“It doesn’t look like you want me to stop talking about it.”

“I’m struggling right now, and you’re not making it any easier, Queenie.” He’s almost . . . snippy. Which is new.

I can see it in the tic of his jaw and the way his fingers twitch at his sides. He’s right on the edge, and I intend to push him over so I can experience his glorious free fall.

“Tell me what you’re struggling with.” I crook a finger, beckoning him. “Maybe I can help.”

He shifts his weight from foot to foot, shuffles forward a step, and mumbles, “Control.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too widely. It really is commendable how hard he’s trying to behave. I’m not sure exactly why he feels compelled to stay stalled out at second base for so long, but I’m pretty sure I can fix that problem.

I slide a single finger up my thigh, bunching the material.

Kingston follows the movement. When I’m an inch away from revealing the color of my underwear, I pause. “Why do you feel like you need to stay in control?”

He licks his lips, his hot gaze shifting up to mine. “Because the last time you were here I ruined your panties.”