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“Y-yeah. Give me a sec. I need to catch my breath.”
That makes two of us.
I need a moment to come down from the high, too, considering my blood’s still liquid fire and I need to convince my body I’mnotabout to fuck Junie senseless.
It was a fake kiss.
Nothing real.
Nothing good, except for the fact that it’s left me humming with need.
I touch her cheek—stupid, I know—but I can’t help myself when my hands want to roam.
All over her. Every waking minute.
“You okay?” I grind out.
“I’ll live,” she says, brushing the back of my hand with her fingertips. “I’m just… Wow. Didn’t know you had that in you.” She laughs, and I’m reminded she’s not quite sober.
I also know I’m the jackass who’s full of surprises here.
The so-called responsible, levelheaded one who wound up being anything but.
“Wow is an understatement,” I agree.
She looks too appetizing in this light, and with the way she licks her lips—shit, it’s like she can still taste me on her and she wants me to know it—I’m about three seconds away from losing the last thread of my sanity.
“You ready or what?” I urge. “I think she’s probably finished her phone call.”
Her face screws up. “Seriously, the only calls Nana’s making tonight are to tell everyone in the family I’m dating again. I guarantee it.”
“It’s nice having a supportive family,” I tease.
She shakes her head and slips her hand through my arm as we head back into the house. “Supportive, judgmental, and gossipy as hens. Take your pick.”
I shrug. “Your Nana seems lovely, her sugar pact with Satan aside.”
She laughs again.
Another damn mistake.
At least the tension eases, though, and I know that was the right thing to say.
I’m sure there’s more going on in the Winkley family—no dad, by the sounds of it, and no mention of a mom either—but that isn’t my business.
It’s about time I started respecting boundaries, even if my dick hasn’t figured out the concept.
“You have a lovely garden. Your bluebells would make my mother jealous,” I tell Mrs. Winkley as we head back inside and she greets us in the kitchen.
“Oh, yes. It’s one of my passions now that I’ve handed the store off to Junie. Gotta keep my hands dirty somehow,” Jo says with a smile that was probably magnetic when she was young.
I can see where Junie gets it.
We stay for a few more minutes, following her into an old-fashioned sitting room where Junie leans against my side with distracting warmth, until finally Jo Winkley sends us off with a flurry of hugs and kisses and I escort Junie back to the vehicle.
She presses her head back into the seat as I pull away.
“Huh,” she says, exhaling. “That went better than expected.”
