Page 57 of That Moment
“Once.” He shifts, pretending to think about it. “You mean once before or once after you drove past the garage?”
My mouth falls open. “How do you?—”
“Lucky guess.” He grins. “So what was it? You miss me that bad, or just wanted to check if I was still breathing?”
“You’re such an ass,” I mutter, tugging at my foot.
He doesn’t let go. His grip is firm but easy, thumb stroking just above my ankle bone. “A stalker, then. I knew it.”
“Oh my God,” I groan, hiding my face in my hands. “You’re never going to let me live this down.”
“Not a chance,” he laughs. “But for the record, if you wanted to see me, all you had to do was text.”
“I didn’t?—”
“Didn’t what?” He leans forward, tone dropping an octave. “Didn’t want to? Or didn’t think I’d open the door?”
I peek through my fingers, heart pounding faster than it should. “Both.”
He hums, pleased. “Good to know. Means next time, I’ll keep the porch light on.”
I groan again, but the sound turns to a shaky laugh. “You’re so annoying.”
He’s still grinning when I lower my hands from my face, that smug, satisfied look that says he’s not even close to done tormenting me.
“And yet,” he says, finally releasing my foot, “here you are.” He leans forward, still holding my gaze, and hooks his hand around the leg of my chair. The scrape of wood on wood makes my stomach flip. “You like being annoyed by me.”
“Debatable.”
He tugs again, dragging me closer until my knees bump his. “You sure?”
“Positive,” I lie, my voice a little breathless.
His smile deepens, wolfish. “Liar.”
Before I can respond, he hooks two fingers through the arm of my chair and pulls it the rest of the way until the front legs hit his. “Better,” he murmurs. Then, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, he reaches for me and hauls me into his lap.
“Scotty—” I gasp, grabbing for balance, but he’s already got me, one hand splayed over my lower back, the other sliding into my hair.
“Relax,” he murmurs against my temple. “You’re wound up tight enough to snap.”
“I wonder whose fault that is.”
“Mine,” he admits. His fingers tangle in my hair, giving a slow, deliberate tug that makes my pulse stutter. My body goes pliant, heat curling low in my stomach.
“Scotty…”
He tilts my head back, lips brushing the base of my throat. The first kiss there is soft, teasing. The second is a claim. “It’s sexy when you’re jealous,” he says against my skin. “I like it.”
“Don’t,” I whisper, though it comes out more plea than warning.
He hums a laugh, mouth still tracing my neck. “Can’t help it. It’s turning me on.”
His hand slides higher, fingertips trailing my jaw until he finds my mouth. When he kisses me, it’s slow at first, like he’stesting if I’ll meet him halfway. I do. And then there’s nothing slow about it.
He kisses me hard, like he’s making up for every minute we spent pretending we didn’t want this. My fingers clutch his shoulders, nails scraping skin. His tongue slides against mine, and I melt into him completely.
By the time we break for air, I’m panting. He’s smiling, the kind of smile that makes my body ache. “You don’t do halfway, do you?”
