Page 75 of Best Served Cold

Lust flashes in her eyes, so blue I could drown in them. It’s a wonder I didn’t fall into them the first moment I saw her.

But I can tell she’s scared. Hell, I’m scared. It feels like we’re stepping into unchartered territory.

“I don’t bite,” I say, smiling. “Unless you want me to.”

She shoves my chest with her open palm, then leaves it there, the fingers moving gently across my shirt. They send bolts of sensation webbing through me, and then she shocks me by grabbing a handful of my shirt in her fist.

“Yes?” I ask, trying to act composed—and like I’m not suddenly imagining backing her against the lamppost and showing her that our kiss was no aberration.

She glances at her hand fisting my shirt, her eyes widening, but she doesn’t let go. “I…” She pauses. “I think the only way we can know for sure is if we kiss again, when he’s not around.”

“A sound scientific principle,” I say, backing her toward the nearby lamppost.

“We’re in public.” Her tone is slightly scandalized but also a bit husky. She likes the thought even if she thinks she shouldn’t.

“It’s just a scientific kiss,” I say, barely even paying attention to the words now, because Sophie’s still gripping my shirt, my hand wrapped around her hip like it doesn’t know how to let go. Another step brings us to the lamppost. Her back collides with it, and she releases a breathy gasp that makes my pulse pound. Even more so when she lifts her head to me, her lips parted.

They’re pale pink tonight, but they’re no less tantalizing.

“I’m wearing boxer shorts,” she comments, self-consciousness riding the remark.

“As long as they weren’t Jonah’s.”

She grimaces, and honestly, that should be enough to wake me up to some kind of sense. I’m here with my brother’s ex—Sophie, the woman he almost married. But I don’t back away. Not even the slightest part of me wants to. “I like them,” I say breathily. “I like looking at your sexy legs.”

“Then you would havereallyliked that dress.”

“Too bad. Maybe we could go back to your house, and you can take all of your clothes off and put it back on. I’ll watch. For scientific purposes.”

She smiles up at me, a wicked glint in her eyes, her features glowing from the streetlight. “You’re bad.”

“I warned you about that last night.” I tuck a glossy lock of hair behind her ear, soaking her in.

“Well?” she says after a second.

I laugh as I lower my head to her, my hand flexing on her hip. I’d like to lift her up so I can have her legs around me, but I don’t want to rush her. Or to take things too far in her neighborhood, where Dottie could very well be filming us for her Wise Women Group.

Our lips brush softly at first. But then she pulls me closer with that little fist tugging my shirt, standing on her tiptoes. I’m lost as her mouth moves against mine, and I push her into the lamppost so I can get closer as our tongues move together.

She’s sweet and spicy like this too, all soft lips and insistent hands. She holds me close, gripping my shirt tightly, while her other hand reaches up and burrows into my hair. Her head tips back, and I leave her mouth to kiss the column of her neck, sucking for a few seconds under her ear, which pulls a glorious sound from her that makes my dick hard. Harder, I should say, because my body responded to her the moment she brushed her fingers against my chest.

I want to leave a mark on her, I decide.

I want Jonah to see it, and to think she’s mine.

She must feel my dick, but instead of backing away, she pushes into me, and I claim her mouth again, half-crazed. Last night something sparked between us when we kissed, but it wasn’t like this. This is…

I feel like I could kiss her for hours, and it wouldn’t be enough. I’d like to kiss her until my lips stop working. Until we fall to the ground from exhaustion. The little sounds she’s making, and the sensation of her fingers in my hair, only make the desire stronger. I let my hand slip under the back of her shirt, feeling her soft skin. It sends a shudder of need through me. My other hand is still at her hip, but I dip it down to her butt, feeling the curve of her beneath those boxer shorts that don’t hide anything. And when her response is to push closer, a sense of delighted wonder courses through me. It’s?—

There’s a rustling sound behind me, and I pull away from her, feeling a surge of protectiveness, just as an apple-cheeked older man with a hound dog turns the corner.

From the way he looks at us, I suspect he’s well aware of what we were doing.

He nods at Sophie, smiling kindly. “Night, Sophie. Say hello to your cousin for me.”

She barely manages a nod back, her hair mussed, her eyes glittering. She looks slightly scandalized—by us, I’m sure.

He walks past, whistling to himself, and a few moments later turns to enter the little purple house next to Sophie’s.

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