Page 39 of Fierce-Colson

“Which is why I don’t drink in public unless I’m not driving. If the person I’m with is driving and not drinking, then I’ll have one.”

“That public image. I bet that’s hard to balance and would be your baggage?”

“Yes,” she said. “So, though I’m set in my ways most times, I’m not so rigid that I can’t bend. But the thing is, most of the men I’m with, or have been with, they are the ones who struggle.”

“No worries here,” he said. “That doesn’t bother me in the least. Drink what you want, eat what you want. It’s your life, your body. I’m not going to get drunk. I lived with that growing up, so a beer here or there when I’m with friends, that’s about it.”

“So we’re friends?” she asked, her voice just as smooth as her shirt.

Her brown eyes laughing as she’d asked that question.

Fuck it.

They were in her place. She invited him here.

She’d thrown out how she’d felt when he was pushing the boundaries days earlier.

He was going to find out what she really thought.

He reached for her arm before she could get the bottle out of her wine fridge, gave her a light yank and had her hitting him square in the chest.

She let out a low laugh that sounded more like a moan. More like a temptation for him to keep going.

She laughed again, softer this time, her breath brushing his throat. “Do you still act first and think later?”

“Usually,” he said, voice rougher than he meant it to be. “When it means something.”

Her hands came up, her palms flat to his chest, not pushing him away. More like feeling him. Measuring. Finding her groove. “That tracks.”

He didn’t give her time to say anything else.

He dipped his head and kissed her harder than he should have, but slower than his body demanded. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t tentative. It was a kiss that said I remember, I want, and what we can have all tangled together. Her mouth softened under his, then opened, a quiet sound slipping out that went straight up his spine, then moved to his dick.

She kissed him back like she’d been waiting for permission she didn’t need.

Like this was what she’d wanted back in the courthouse, but neither of them would dare.

Her fingers curled in his shirt, tugging him closer until there was no space left to negotiate. He slid a hand to her waist, his thumb pressing into her hip, grounding himself there before he did something reckless.

Too late.

She tipped her head, deepened their kiss, her teeth grazing his lower lip in a way that felt deliberate.

That crossed the boundaries again.

The line had been erased.

And though he knew he wouldn’t end up in her bed tonight, he also knew that he would. Eventually.

Whether or not they had their talk, because it was what she’d said.

Comfort and trust.

He pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against hers. “Friends don’t kiss like that,” she said.

Her smile was slow and dangerously erotic, pushing him to be honest right back. “Good thing I didn’t answer you yet.”

She leaned in again, this time setting the pace. Unhurried and confident. Like she knew exactly how badly he was holding himself together. His restraint frayed with every second, every soft exhale she gave him, every brush of her mouth that promised more without demanding it.