“Do I seem like one?”
He inches closer too. “I’d like to know the devil in you.”
“You want to know if I’m good or bad?”
His lips part. His eyes darken. His Adam’s apple bobs. This sexy, kind, outgoing, clever man looks absolutely undone.
A gust of air crosses his lips, and it is clear what’s happening tonight. “I do want to know, absolutely,” he says in a whisper that makes me feel as undone as he looks.
But he has to go to work. And so I vow to surprise him.
I handle the delivery.
But I don’t stop there. I don’t simply let the guys in and leave. I need something to keep myself busy today.
Rather than wait and assemble the furniture later, I do it all now. I put everything together, focusing the whole time on the task, blasting my new playlist as I put together the couch, the table, and the chair. Four hours later, everything is assembled. I’m sweating, and my muscles are tired, but it’s a good sweat and it’s a good tired.
Nothing a shower won’t cure.
I pick up all my tools, straighten up, and then grab a sheet of paper and leave him a note.
* * *
Am I an angel? Let’s find out.
* * *
I go home. I shower. I put on a pink sundress. He likes me in pink. But more than that, I like me in pink. I like, too, how all my ink is on display, how he can see the birds flying up my arm.
Well, not all of my ink.
I smile privately as I wait for him to return from work, keeping myself busy making a salad I hope he’ll like.
Or at least tolerate.
Around six there’s a knock on my door. I open it, drawing a sharp, fevered breath when I take in a freshly showered Liam in jeans and a gray T-shirt that’s nice and snug across his pecs, showing off his strong arms. He stares shamelessly at me, then unleashes an appreciative wow as he holds up two bottles of wine.
“You’re an angel for the furniture. Thank you. Thank you so incredibly much. But I’d like to know both sides of you. First, would you like wine?” It comes out gravelly, like the question isn’t about wine. It’s about desire. It’s about tonight.
“I would.” I point to the white. “But I want it later.”
“And what do you want now?”
I feel breathless, jittery all over, but ready too—knowing the danger, knowing the risk.
Knowing, too, that if I’m going to adult this thing with him, then the adulting needs to start before we get naked.
I meet his gaze. “This doesn’t change anything, does it?”
“Not if we don’t let it,” he says, his eyes never straying from mine.
“Then let’s not let it change things.”
He raises the bottle. “I’ll drink to that.” He tips his head toward his house. “Come over, January. Come over now.”
He’s never sounded this commanding.
This determined.
His voice makes me hot, turns me on.
I grab the salad, step onto the porch, and shut the door behind me. He sets a hand on my back, making me shiver, making me want.
The second we’re inside his house, he takes the salad bowl, sets it on the entryway table, and puts down the bottles of wine.
When he shuts the door, he pushes me up against it.
18
Liam
Screw food.
Fuck wine.
Forget everything in the world right now but this.
There are no questions. There is no uncertainty. We are about to kiss.
January is an inevitability.
A gorgeous, fiery fait accompli.
But even if I’m dead certain that our lips are about to connect, that our bodies are going to crash together, I’ll still savor every second of this. Whether it’s a done deal or not, whether this kiss comes as a surprise or it doesn’t, I intend to relish it.
Because a first kiss is always a surprise.
It’s a delicious, decadent discovery.
Will she like it slow, fast, and deep? Long, hard, and wet?
Will it be an exploration? A revelation? A declaration?
Will it sizzle? Will it make my head go hazy?
The second the door shuts, I spin her around and back her into the door.
Her eyes flare with heat. Mine roam up and down her body. “Have I told you how much I appreciate what you did in my house today?”
“No. Not entirely. Do you want to show me?” She asks it all flirty, full of intention, and her forthrightness is a massive turn-on.
“I do. I very much want to show you all of my appreciation,” I say, as my right hand finds her waist and curls around it.
I savor the contact.
That first electric moment of touching her sends a wave of heat crashing over me.
Her blue eyes shimmer. Her lips part. Her breath catches. She’s in this as much as I am, and that ratchets up my lust another hundred degrees. My pulse roars just from being near her like this, and yet I want to get so much closer. I move against her, barely a breath between us.
