“I’m sure he does, but like most guys, he’s got a piss-poor way of showing it.”
“Just like a damn man,” she says softly, glancing up at me from beneath her lashes, the hint of a playful smile still curving her lips.
“Bastards,” I reply.
Her eyes sparkle up at me and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to haul her into my arms and kiss her senseless. Which might take a while. She’s got plenty of sense about her. Too much, maybe.
After a minute, when the temperature in the little kitchen is rising noticeably, Katie clears her throat again, pulling that swath of rich auburn hair over her shoulder like I’ve seen her do before. “So what is it that you drive when you’re not carting your brother around?”
“Maybe if you’re nice to me I’ll show you one day.”
She grunts indignantly, her lips parting yet still curved. “I’m always nice to you.”
“But you could be nicer,” I tell her with a half-grin.
She raises one dark brow, the sexiest damn thing I think I’ve ever seen on a woman. Besides her licking the corner of her mouth when she’s concentrating or nervous, that is. “And just how . . . nice are you expecting me to be?”
“Not that nice,” I answer. “Unless you just want to be that nice. I would never argue if you wanted to be extra, extra, extra nice to me.”
I give her my widest, most innocent smile. She laughs outright, an action that fills the kitchen with a delicate tinkle and turns her face from beautiful to breathtaking. A display like this from her is pretty rare, so pulling it out of her makes me feel like I’ve won the lottery.
“Do that again,” I request quietly, so drawn to her that I can’t stop myself from moving closer, from reaching out, from touching.
“Do what again?” she asks. When I cup her silky cheek in my palm, she straightens, but she doesn’t back away. A good sign.
“Laugh.”
“I can’t laugh on command,” she explains, her eyes flickering up to mine and away, up to mine and away.
“I swear to God, I think I’d do just about anything to hear that again, to see your face light up like that.”
My thumb blindly stroking the crest of her high cheekbone, I catch and hold her eyes this time. They’re like melted sapphires, a fathomless liquid that I could easily let myself drown in.
Katie’s lips open and close a couple of times, like she’s trying to find words where there are none. But the time for talk is over. I feel like I’ve waited patiently for an eternity to taste, and now it’s time for my reward.
Slowly, I bend my face toward hers, hoping she won’t move away, praying that she won’t stop me. “You’ve been on my mind since the first day I saw you, Beautiful Katie. It’s time you give me the answer to a question that’s been haunting me for weeks.”
I can feel the sweet, shallow puffs of her breath fanning my lips as I get closer. “W-what’s that?”
“Do your lips taste like cotton candy?”
“How would I know?” she asks a bit dazedly.
“Give me five minutes and I’ll tell you.”
I bring my other hand up to hold her face still as I brush my mouth over hers. When she doesn’t move away, doesn’t push me away, I sink into her lips like I might sink into a bed made of marshmallows. Sweet, plump, light-as-air marshmallows. And, God help me, Katie sinks right back.
Maybe she’s been wondering about me, too. Maybe she’s as curious about me as I am about her. Maybe, just maybe, she wants me as much as I want her. Whatever the reason, I’m delighted when she parts her lips and tilts her head, a silent plea for me to deepen the kiss.
And deepen it I do.
The first touch of my tongue to hers is mouthwatering. She tastes sweet, sweeter than the marshmallows, sweeter than the wine I brought, even though she’s not had a drop of it yet. I step closer to her, bringing my lower body in light contact with hers. She leans into me, and my groan floods her mouth. Almost in answer to my involuntary reaction, she gasps, drinking in my breath, taking part of me into her body. The thought, so simple and innocent, nearly snaps the thin thread of my control.
When Katie drags her tongue along the side of mine, the warm silk of her pushes me a little too far. I weave my fingers into her hair and I dive into her mouth, into her kiss.
And I’m met with a brick wall. Katie stiffens in my arms, her hands coming to my chest to push me away. Surprised, I release her instantly. I open confused eyes to her frantic ones as she scrambles away from me, tugging her hair back over her shoulder like a security blanket.
“Did I hurt you?” I ask, clueless as to what I did to cause the sudden change.
“No, no,” she responds, smoothing her hands over her hair, over and over and over as she takes deep, calming breaths. “Sorry, I just . . . It’s just been a long time since someone has kissed me that way.”
“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I’m only sorry that I made you uncomfortable.”
She flicks her eyes toward mine in a sideways glance that says she’s far from fine. She won’t even face me.
“It’s fine. Really. I think I’m just . . . I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.” I can hear the excuse coming before the next word leaves her lips. “Can we just call it a night?”
I swallow my sigh. Shit! “Of course. We can do this another time.”
She gives me a fake smile that barely curves her lips and never reaches her eyes. “Maybe.”
She glances away again, hugging her arms around her middle. I would say she’s freezing me out, but she’s not. She’s not being cold or bitchy; she acts almost . . . wounded. Like the frightened deer I was worried about seeing. But what the hell did I do? I only kissed her. And she kissed me back.
I figure now’s not the time to ask. The best thing I can do is leave; leave her in peace and hope I can pick up the pieces tomorrow.
FIFTEEN
Katie
Whereas I’ve been so excited to come to work these last weeks since Rogan’s been here, today, for the first time, I’m actively dreading it. God! Rogan must think I’m some sort of weirdo freak.
And he wouldn’t be wrong.
I never really wanted him to find out, though. I don’t know how, exactly, I planned to avoid it, but I had been living in some sort of fantasyland where it was entirely possible that he wouldn’t.
Maybe I just thought that this whole thing could play out in my head without ever really getting . . . real. Or physical. Even though I’ll admit to being curious about his kiss. I’ve thought about it more times than I’ve probably thought about anything else. And the reality of it . . . Sweet Mary! I couldn’t be any more thrilled with that.
Even as I think back on it, I shiver. I can’t ever remember someone’s kiss making me feel like my insides are on fire. But Rogan’s did. It’s probably a good thing he ran his hands into my hair, snapping me back to reality. I was enjoying that far too much. I was lost to everything but him and what he was making me feel.
And that could never end well.
Despite my dread and upset, even now, my stomach feels warm and my legs feel tingly at the mere thought of his lips and tongue. What kind of a kiss makes a person’s legs tingle? A damn good one, I guess. And the sad thing is that it was just a kiss. He wasn’t touching anything below my collarbone and it was . . . was . . . oh God!
I stop just outside my “office” door and take a few deep breaths. I wait until my heartbeat is a little calmer and I can breathe like I didn’t just run a fifty-mile marathon before showing myself.