She still didn’t answer for a moment, though he could also see that she was notably pale. She was really shaken, although in what he’d already learned was Josie Lynn fashion, she was trying to hide it.
“I hate things with wings, okay? Birds, bats, big flying bugs.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, but her expression clearly stated she hated admitting that fear.
Any fear, he suspected.
“Well, we all have things that freak us out.”
She shot him a skeptical look. “And what freaks you out?”
He didn’t even have to hesitate. “I hate enclosed spaces. And being constrained in any way.”
She dropped her arms, immediately distracted from her fears by the admission of his. “Really?”
He nodded.
“But you seemed okay with being in that sex swing thing earlier.”
“I was faking. I was absolutely freaking out.”
“Good acting,” she said, sounding truly impressed.
“Thanks.”
Since they were talking candidly, he decided to keep the confessional going.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Some of her reserve returned, and she crossed her arms back over her chest. Always protecting herself. Always acting strong. Even when she was unnerved—like right now.
She nodded, even though he knew she didn’t really want to answer any questions.
“Why did you kiss me at The Dungeon?”
“To irritate Obsidian,” she said in a way that stated that she clearly hoped that was answer enough and this would be the end of Twenty Questions.
Too bad. She wasn’t going to be that lucky.
“You were affected by our kiss. I could feel it. And you already know I’m very, very attracted to you.”
He expected her to deny his claim, but instead she just nodded. “I am attracted to you.”
Shit, that wasn’t even an enthusiastic admission and he was as hard as tempered steel.
“You confuse me,” he admitted. “One minute, I feel like we are actually communicating, and you’re almost comfortable with me. Then the next you shut down and are distant.”
She gave him a helpless look, like she had no idea what he wanted her to say.
“For example, why did you seem fine with my being protective of you when that creepy Donald was talking to us at Madame Renee’s, yet when I stepped in with that drunken jerk on Bourbon, you were angry with me?”
She looked away from him, and for a moment, he just assumed she would tell him she didn’t know. Or that she didn’t need to explain herself, but then her vivid blue eyes found his.
“Because I liked you protecting me too much.”
He hadn’t expected that.
“Why? I wanted to protect you. I like protecting you.” He liked it a lot. Probably he liked it too much, if truth be told, especially given she was a woman he barely knew. And human to boot.
“Because I find it’s just a lot better if I take care of myself.”
Suddenly he realized why she could go from soft and aroused to prickly in seconds flat.
She’d been hurt. Badly hurt from the looks of it. She didn’t trust him—or any man, he was willing to bet.
Why hadn’t he realized that earlier? Wasn’t that why he tended to keep himself distant from women and relationships, too?
“I can understand that,” he said softly. “Believe me, I can. But we all need help sometimes. And we all have to trust someone once in a while, too, even if it’s hard.”
She laughed then, the sound hard and bitter. “That’s kind of rich coming from you. You are telling me to trust you, but you think I’m a thief and a liar.”
Drake could easily understand her incredulity with him. He stepped closer to her, but left a few inches of space between them, not wanting her to feel cornered. That was the last thing a woman who didn’t trust men—or maybe anyone—needed.
“I stopped thinking you were involved in the drugging and robbery basically before we even left Zelda and Saxon’s.”
“Why’s that?” she said, her tone no softer, no less filled with sarcastic mistrust.
“Because you could have run at any point tonight. Hell, you could have darted and left me to fight a gator if you wanted, but you didn’t. I know you want answers just as much as I do.”
She stared at him for a moment, and then her arms dropped back to her sides. Her guard was coming down a little, but she clearly didn’t know what to say.
He didn’t want her to say any more. He just wanted to touch her. Reassure her that she could trust him. He wanted to continue to protect her. He wanted to make love to her.
He shifted closer, and her eyes met his. Again, he expected to see caution and doubt in her eyes, but instead he saw something almost like tentative hope in her unblinking gaze.
He risked moving closer still and slowly reached out to touch her cheek.
“I know you still don’t trust me, but I honestly don’t want to hurt you. I’m going to be totally honest with you. I really want to kiss you.”
She managed to surprise him again. “I really want to kiss you, too.”
JOSIE LYNN COULDN’T believe she had told him that, or that she was leaning in to meet his lips. A part of her kept repeating this was a terrible, terrible idea and she was bound to get hurt. But another part, which at the moment was being much louder and making much more sense, kept telling her to take a risk, go with it, enjoy this moment.
She liked the second voice’s advice better.
And when Drake’s lips captured her, she liked it even more. Damn, this man could kiss.
His mouth molded to hers like it had been made just for her. She couldn’t remember a kiss quite like his, so perfect, so earth-shattering, so . . .
Dangerous, the party-pooper voice stated.
Then Drake’s tongue slipped over her lips, tasting her. Then deeper. Then she didn’t care if this was dangerous, she just wanted the moment to continue. Her tongue found his, and he moaned, pinning her against the door. His hands moved to her hips, pulling her tightly against him, his muscular body hard and heavy and delicious against hers. Her arms looped around his neck and she could feel the brush of his hair against her fingers.
“Damn, you make me crazy,” he murmured against her lips.
Crazy, that was exactly what this was. But she didn’t want to stop, and clearly, neither did he as his hand slid down her hip to hike up the hem of his shirt. His fingers, rough from playing guitar, she supposed, stroked over her bare upper thigh. The sensation was thrilling, those roughened fingertips strong and masculine, just like the rest of him.
“I want to go slow,” he whispered, but even in her haze of desire, she knew want was the operative word. Slow wasn’t going to happen for either of them. It was as if they’d finally admitted this enormous attraction and nothing was going to stop them from being together. Not even the luxury of exploring each other’s bodies. They’d take the luxury next time.
Next time. Was she even sure there would be a next time?
Stop thinking, the lust-driven side of her brain told her. Just feel. Just fuck.
Drake’s brain seemed to be telling him the same thing, because his hand slipped between her thighs, nudging her tiny lace panties aside to rub the already-wet flesh underneath. She gasped, arching against him. He growled, finding her swollen clit, circling it with his thumb as a finger slid inside her. Then another finger.
She dug her fingers into the muscles of his shoulders, angling her hips upward to afford him better access, deeper access.
“You are so hot and wet. I have to taste you,” he said, his already-raspy voice a low rumble. She made a dismayed noise as his fingers left her throbbing sex.
He smiled at the sound, that naughty grin of his making her ache even more.