“Bradley is a douche and you do not give cleavage to a douche who you’re gonna let take you out for a couple of dinners and then dump his ass when you figure out he’s a douche.”

“For your information, I’m ending things with Bradley tonight, but not because he’s a douche, since he’s not. He’s nice. Because it just isn’t working for me.”

Mickey’s expression clouded over with sudden brotherly affront. “And you’re showin’ your tits to give him a look at what he’s not gonna get?”

I felt my face get pink and not in ways that Mickey normally made it pink.

Because I was furious.

“I have cleavage because my dress has cleavage, Mickey.”

“Pull up the dress, Amelia.”

I looked from side to side in mock panic before looking back to Mickey, letting his finger go, and grasping frantically at his lapels.

“Oh God!” I cried. “Did I enter a time machine and didn’t notice it? Are we back in 1818 where a man can drag a woman into an alcove at an eating establishment and demand she cover herself up?”

Mickey didn’t answer, and him not having a ready comeback surprised me enough to pay closer attention.

And what I saw was him looking down at me, his face thunderous, his jaw ticking, looking like he could easily murder someone, painfully and bloodily.

And the closest someone was me.

“Mickey,” I whispered, uncurling my fingers in order to smooth his jacket and then hopefully slide away and escape.

I didn’t get that far.

He muttered a terse, “Fuck it.”

And then he was kissing me.

Mickey Donovan was kissing me!

At first, I was suspended in utter disbelief.

Then his tongue touched my lips, I opened my mouth, it slid inside…

And I tasted Mickey.

He was the most beautiful taste to ever touch my tongue.

Because of that, I wanted more.

And I took it, in doing so receiving the best kiss I’d had in my life.

It was deep, wet, blazing.

So much of all that I forgot everything.

I forgot I was in a restaurant.

I forgot I was on a date.

I forgot my date was in said restaurant.

I forgot Mickey’s kids were there.

I forgot everything.

Everything, but Mickey.

It consumed us both in its blistering heat to the point mouths and tongues weren’t enough and we both started groping.

I was right.

He was hard and he was hot, everywhere I touched.

I loved it.

And his hands on me, over my clothes, did things to me I didn’t know I could feel.

I whimpered against his tongue and he tore his mouth free.