Falling at First Sight Willow Winters (black female authors txt) 📖

shy,” I say and I don’t know why the confession slips out of me, but it does.

She doesn’t blush, though, like I thought she would. Her smile stays put and her eyes flash with something. Something that tells me it’s okay to keep pushing her.

“You think I’m sweet?”

“I know you are, but what do you think of me?” I dare to ask.

“Handsome. I think you’re just my type, Mr. Morgan. Tall, dark and handsome … I would put good money down that you’re just about every woman’s type.”

A rough chuckle leaves me as I reply, “But I don’t want to be out here with any woman. I only asked one to coffee.”

Setting her mug down on the white rattan table, she wraps both her hands around the cup. “Speaking of which, mine is almost gone.”

“Well, you have been clinging to it like it was going to save you from having to make conversation.”

“Did not,” she says, the beautiful smile never fading even with her rebuttal. “Although I’m glad I was able to get you a coffee. Since I did spill yours and all.”

“Well … actually, I asked you out for coffee so I could ask you out for dinner.”

Her laugh in response is light and the sound is music to my ears. “You are something else, Trent.”

“As are you, Autumn.” An asymmetric smile pulls up on my lips. It doesn’t escape me that she doesn’t respond to the invitation. My pulse picks up and I swear there’s a hard thump in my chest when she looks away for a moment.

“We could do tomorrow night?” I offer her. It’s a holiday weekend and we have Monday off for Labor Day. Tomorrow is perfect for a real date.

“Tomorrow? So soon?” she asks as if it’s a joke, but I think there’s something real about her hesitation.

“Is there a rule against having a dinner date right after a coffee date?”

“There are lots of rules against that,” she answers with all seriousness. Before she can deny me, I slip my hand over hers, which is still laying innocently on the table. There’s a spark, a heat between us that’s met with a small gasp from her lips. My dark umber against her fair skin. My thumb runs soothing circles, but all it does is stir up that heat, making it hotter and hotter.

“When I want something, I go after it. And I want you.”

“Trent,” she says and my name is a plea on her lips. She lets me lift her hand in mine and I take my time, letting my intentions be clear as I plant a single kiss on the inside of her wrist. The smell of her sweet perfume and the little sigh that slips from her, a sigh of coveted lust, does things to me that a coffee date never should.

I pull away easily enough, but Autumn still seems caught in a trance.

“Tomorrow night?” she asks after a moment, her voice low and full of the sexual tension that resonates in every inch of me.

I only nod and in response, she gives me a sweet smile and agrees, “Tomorrow night.”

I leave her by her car with a small, chaste kiss. Tomorrow night, though … if I’m going to kiss her, it’s not going to be on her cheek.

Autumn

“I. Have. A. Playdate. With. Chase.” Henry smacks his hands with each word from the back seat of the car. “Mommy. Has. A. Date. With. Mr. Trent.” My eyes roll hard as we sit at the red light on Main and Sixth Street. A row of cute houses is to my right and the coffee shop I sat at with Trent is to my left.

Even as I let out the frustrated breath, I stare longingly at the white rattan table we sat at. The table where his lips first touched me like I’ve been dreaming about. And everything inside me blazes. He may be my son’s teacher … but there’s no doubt that Trent Morgan could teach me a thing or two.

Turning down the music as the red light changes to green, I question Henry to get his mind anywhere other than the date I have with his preschool teacher.

My phone pings and I wait until I’m at the next red light before I peek at it.

Sharon wants to know if I like him and how the date went.

Ugh. Those nerves from before rattle inside of me and I struggle to come up with another response. I know she knows I do like him and that the date was “just fine” because that’s what I wrote in the group chat.

Not only was it “just fine,” it was a low-key icebreaker that somehow turned scorching hot out of nowhere. I’ve been imagining all sorts of things for over a year but what I wanted to do to that man on top of that little table is downright deviant.

I’m surely not going to tell Sharon that. My plan is to drag my feet as long as I can until I know if there’s really something there between Trent and me.

One kiss really. It’s all in the kiss, isn’t it? That’s what they say, so … just one kiss. A real one. Not a peck on the cheek to say goodbye after a coffee date, but the type of kiss that slows down your whole world as you kick up one leg and turn to jello.

Nodding my head in agreement with … well with myself, I realize I’ve been ignoring Henry.

“Right, Mommy?” Henry says.

“Yes, that’s right,” I answer and immediately regret agreeing without knowing what I’m agreeing to.

“You like Mr. Morgan! Mommy likes Mr. Morgan!”

Ping. My phone goes off again as I roll up to