Page 90 of Capri

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“How haveyou never watched Grey’s Anatomy?”

I gape. “No idea but I’m hooked now.”

I follow Jones into the kitchen as we clean up the mess from tonight. It’s past midnight, and I feel every minute of it.

For someone who prefers an early bedtime, this is stretching it for me.

But no regrets. Not only did we start Grey’s Anatomy, but we got five episodes deep, and I’m officially off the market and owned by McDreamy.

“Big day for you then.” Jones laughs and gives me a clap for achievement.

“Funny. Ihavewatched TV before.” I laugh. “I just haven’thadone since I’ve been divorced.”

Jones sets down the wooden board and starts washing the dishes. “What are you?—”

“Ah!” He holds up a hand. “Friendship rule number one: no arguing when I do something nice for you. Simple as that.”

“Okay, but?—”

“Rule number two: no watching ahead.”

Now that makes my rioting stop. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You heard me.” He grins, busying himself tidying up the kitchen.

“So, you’re telling me that I just binged the best medical drama in the history of medical dramas, one you’ve already seen, and I have to wait foryouto keep watching?”

He nods. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

A thought comes to mind. “Wait, why have you watched Grey’s? It doesn’t seem like your kind of show?”

He rears back with a smile. “And what kind of shows do I look like I watch, Capri?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Like men who fix big things and chop wood. It’s the hands.”

Jones tosses the dish towel on the counter and circles toward me. “You got a thing for my hands, sweetheart?”

“I just…” I stutter.

He corners me against the nearest surface. In this case, it’s the back of my oversized chair. “You just…what?”

The air is thick and his words are edged with intention.

We’re nearly an inch apart, and it’s clear Jones has no plans to move away. “I like your hands, okay? They’re good at…gripping things. God damnit. Why can’t I ever speak right around you?”

There’s that cocky smirk again. He’s enjoying this too much.

Without thinking twice, his hands find their way to my arms, the roughness of his calloused palms causing my body to shudder and my core to ache.

It’s been too long since I’ve had some relief. I need to remedy that later. Although, the source behind my fantasy is standing right in front of me.

“I love touching you,” Jones breathes out, eyes tracing his motions. “Drives me mad I can’t touch you how I want to.”

“I’m sorry.” I exhale. “Am I being a tease?”

His eyes lift. “What? You are nothing close to a tease. You’re a temptation. A temptation I’ve been struggling to fight every damn day since I got here.”

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