Page 23 of One More Kiss

Jasmine

“I didn’t explain myself well,”Steve said. “Before I join you in bed, I want to talk to the boys. About us. I’m sure the girls all have stars and hearts in their eyes, and they think they’re so very clever, playing us both as they did. But that’s not how I want to do this. No subterfuge. If you can accept me and my brokenness…”

I reached over, running my good hand down his arm. “You’re not broken. A bit banged up by life, but by our age, we’ve all got dents.”

He grinned. “If you can accept me as I am and still find me attractive, then I have to be forthright with the kids about what we’re doing. What we mean to each other.”

I pursed my lips, thinking back on his former comments. “Is accountability a show of responsibility or a way to keep you on the straight and narrow, as you said before?”

“They deserve our honesty.”

I flinched. “Okay, that shot hit its mark. I haven’t always been as truthful with my children as I should have been. And those half-truths and lies came back to bite us all, so of course. That makes sense.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well, you don’t have to sound so sanctimonious.” I clapped both hands over my mouth, my eyes going wide.

Instead of snapping back at me as I expected—like Laurence would have—Steve chuckled. “There are your claws. And, no, I wasn’t making a comment about you when I said that—about honesty. I was thinking about Nash and me.”

I dropped my hands and then my gaze. Not everything’s about you, Jasmine. “Oh. Right. Yes. You want to continue to build trust.”

He spoke to the guard at the front gate with familiarity, and a few moments later, he pulled into my driveway.

“I do. Yes. With him.” He used his knuckles to lift my chin. “And with you, too, beautiful.”

My lips curved at his endearment. I hadn’t been called beautiful—other than by my kids—in far too long.

There was a heady power to knowing I held a man’s attention, his passion. I leaned in and brushed my lips across his. He hummed low in his throat, more like a purr, then tugged me closer and deepened the kiss.

I loved how Steve tasted: hints of mint but always with a wildness to him. I flicked my tongue along his, my palm cradling his cheek.

He pulled back in degrees, eyes closed, blond lashes resting against his cheeks. When he opened his eyes, the intensity of his stare rocked me.

“Good night,” I murmured.

“Night, my lovely Jasmine.”

He opened his door, no doubt to walk me to the porch. Warmth built in my chest. Steve was such a good man, a thoughtful one. I placed my hand on his forearm.

“Don’t.” My voice cracked. “Don’t get out. Please.” I cleared my throat even as I shivered. This level of raw honesty sometimes left me uncomfortable—I’d been taught not to rock the boat, but I didn’t want to put Steve in a position that left him feeling hurt.

“I want you in my bed, in me. That’s why I asked you in. And if you kiss me like that again, I’m going to insist you come inside so we can finish what you started.”

My fingers tightened on his arm as I implored him to understand.

“You’ve explained your reasons for not wanting to go that far now, and I respect them. But this is the first time, in probably twenty years, I’ve felt lust. Deep, tingly desire that I know will turn into toe-curling orgasms.” I sucked in a breath. “So, please, don’t tease me with something you can’t currently offer.”

He sat stone-still for a moment, then reached out and tucked some strands of hair behind my ear before letting his fingertips graze my cheek. They fell to his thigh.

“Get your ass in your house, woman, before I break my self-imposed vow.”

I hopped out of the car and blew him a kiss. He pretended to catch it and slam it into his chest. I giggled as I made my way up my steps and into my dark, lonely house.

---