Rhys Fletcher is a police detective who finds himself in a fix. He's in charge of a simple case, the theft of a cell phone. Unfortunately, it blossoms into something more rather unexpectedly. He's no longer investigating a theft, now it's multiple homicide. The prime suspect? His girlfriend, Moira. This scene takes place before their lives go to hell. It is the night of their second date, the beachside festival lighting the city Christmas lights.
Finally ready, she went into the living room. Rhys had made himself comfortable on her couch, a book in his hands. He marked the place with his finger as he stood.
"You look stunning. Red is decidedly your color." He pulled her close to kiss her. "You shrank."
"Two inch heel rather than four."
"Ooh. I knew I wasn't that blind. Like the shoes!" He knelt at her feet, touching the dark red suede. He ran his fingers up the side, fondling the bow at the back, moving slowly across the sole before caressing the top of her foot.
"Are you one of those weird foot fetish people?" Moira didn't know whether to be disgusted for flattered.
"Will you get mad if I say yes?"
"Depends on what you like to do to feet."
Rhys grinned, dusting his hands on his jeans. "Can I wash?"
She pointed to a half bath under the stairs. "You didn't answer me."
"Trying to come up with a reply that doesn't make me sound like a perv." He washed and dried his hands. "I like shoes. I like red. I think red shoes are sexy. I think women who wear red shoes are sexy. Therefore, I think you're damn sexy, with or without your red shoes."
Moira nodded, listening intently. "Thank you. I think you're pretty sexy too, even if you have a shoe fetish."
"I don't have a shoe fetish."
"Yeah? If we had sex tonight—which I am not saying we are, so don't get so happy—would you want the shoes on or off?"
"Depends. Are we in bed or somewhere else in the house?"
"On." He moved closer.
"Oooh, really?" He raised his eyebrows. "On." His chest pressed hard against hers.
"In the bed or against the wall?" His arms went around her, his hands dropping to her rear.
"Decidedly on. Pants around my ankles, and those sexy heels digging into my ass." He squeezed her butt with both hands, pressing in and up so her hips rubbed invitingly against his. "And if we're not making love tonight, please don't tease me with this anymore."
"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't tease, but it's so much fun dirty-flirting with you."
"I don't know whether to be flattered or annoyed." He nuzzled her neck.
"Be flattered, please. I don't want you annoyed. I haven't flirted or dated in such a long time. I forget the boundaries."
Rhys nibbled her earlobe. "No boundaries," he mumbled against her throat. "No limits. No pressure. I can wait, Moira. As long as it takes. Just try not to get me too worked up before we go out. It's kind of embarrassing to go in public with a hard on."
Moira giggled, bringing his face level with hers. She pouted her lips like the girl had earlier. "I promise to behave, if you do."
"I'll do my best. I make no guarantees. I'm single and it's been awhile."
Moira rubbed her lipstick off his cheeks with her thumb. "Define awhile."
"You the debate coach?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
"Lucky guess. Define awhile?" He raised his eyes, thinking, mumbling as he counted. "God, really that long? Shit! Three months. What's wrong with me?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing." She giggled when he pressed her ass again.
"I was waiting for the right woman to come along. Then all of a sudden, she dropped from the sky, right into my lap."
"I like to think so. And I'm a damn lucky man."
"I like to think so."
© 2015 Dellani Oakes