Page 10 of Hat Trick Kisses

I drive her back to The Sin Bin, both of us lost in our thoughts, but the air in the cab is tight with possibility. The city’s doing its thing outside the windows, cars blaring by, sun hammering down, all the usual background chaos. None of it makes a dent.

I park behind the bar, trying to come up with some way to keep the date going, when Daisy turns in her seat and pins me with those green eyes. “You want to see my place?”

My pulse spikes like she just challenged me to overtime.

“Absolutely,” I say. No hesitation, no bullshit.

She reads that in my face, and I swear something flashes in her eyes. I walk around the truck and help her out. She slips her soft hand in mine and leads the way through the alley and up a set of freshly painted iron stairs.

The stairwell is narrow, brick walls closing in on both sides. At the top, she unlocks a heavy door with “PRIVATE” painted in yellow across the black door.

We step inside, and I look around. It’s small, barely enough room for one person. But the second I step in, it hits me that this place is all Daisy. Rose fills the air, reminding me of Daisy. Against the wall, there’s a dark blue couch with throw pillows in colors that don’t match but somehow work. Across from it is a small wooden bookcase with a small TV on top and shelves lined with books. Off to the other side, there’s a small table with two chairs.

Light pours in through a window above the sink. There’s a small galley-sized kitchen. Everything’s organized—dishes stacked, mugs lined up like soldiers, plants in mismatched pots by the window.

She stands just inside the door, smiling.

“It used to be a storeroom.” She laughs. “I didn’t want to take on a mortgage while I’m trying to make double payments on the bar, so I fixed up this old stockroom to live in.”

Everything about this apartment screams Daisy. It’s precise and practical, but with flashes of color.

“It’s impressive,” I say, because it is.

Daisy looks up at me, lips ticking up in a half-smile. She’s waiting for something.

I step closer. The floor creaks, and she tenses for half a second, but she doesn’t move. My hand finds her jaw, thumb tracing the line from ear to chin. Her skin is soft, warm, and she blinks up at me, pupils blown wide.

I can’t resist another second. I just kiss her.

The second our mouths meet, the world drops away. My hand slides from her jaw to the base of her neck, pulling her in. She tips up on her toes, lips opening under mine, and everything gets frantic and hot. Her back hits the brick wall with a soft thud. My other hand anchors on her hip.

She fists her fingers in my shirt, dragging me closer. Her mouth is hungry, matching me beat for beat. The only sound is our breathing and the city below.

I tilt her chin, deepening the kiss. Her tongue brushes mine, and my knees nearly buckle. Fuck. She tastes just like Daisy—clean, sharp, addictive.

Her hands move, fingers sliding up my chest, nails scraping lightly. The sensation is electric, driving every thought from my mind.

I bracket her between my body and the wall, careful not to crowd but needing her close. She’s all curves and heat. I press my fingers in, just enough to feel the flex of her body molded against me.

She kisses with zero hesitation, all-in. Her mouth hungry on mine, tongue sliding against my own, nails scraping my chest through my shirt. Christ. Every inch of me goes tight and desperate, cock hard as granite, blood pounding so hard I almost black out.

Daisy shifts against me, grinding her hips into my thigh, and my self-control unravels. It’s a full-body jolt, a bolt of pure, reckless electricity that lights me up from my skull to my toes. I want to pin her here forever, just to feel the way her whole body bows into mine.

But I don’t move. Not until she gives it to me.

She fists my shirt in both hands and tugs, pulling me harder into her. It’s the kind of invitation I don’t need twice. Our mouths crash together again, her lips parted, breath hot against my tongue. My hands roam now, rougher, greedy, memorizing the curve of her ass, the sharp line of her waist, the impossible realness of her, here, wanton and wild in my arms.

Fuck. I’m so far gone for her it’s not even funny.

I break the kiss for a split second, just to breathe. We both gulp air. Foreheads almost touching. The silence is loaded.

Daisy opens her eyes first. There’s no trace of give or surrender, but something in her is cracked, just a sliver. She holds my gaze, steady, daring me to name what just happened.

I don’t say a word as I spin us, leaning my back against the wall to stay on my feet. I don’t trust myself to get words right.

Her chest moves fast, like she just sprinted across the room. She doesn’t look away. “Wow,” she breathes.

“You can say that again.” I thunk my head back against the wall behind me and drag in big gulps of air, trying to get control.