Page 58 of Dirty Work

My heart’s beating so fast I swear it’s going to burst free from my rib cage. “I love you, too. And we both messed up.”

I’ll explain about Dale later. My ex is the last thing I want to think about right now. I want to get back to the good stuff.

The kissing.

I go for his vest, my greedy hands eager to drag him back down to me. He takes them in his, holding me off.

“We’ll probably mess up again,” he says. “At least I will.”

“I’m sure I will, too. But we’ll work through it. Meet each other halfway. Make sure the seesaw doesn’t tip too much one way or the other.”

His brows furrow. “Seesaw?”

“I’ll explain later.” I loop his hands around my neck and lean into him, enjoying the way his hard body feels against my softer one. “Now I need you to kiss me.”

He does. This time it’s less frantic, less hurried. This kiss is a leisurely dance, a slow exploration. His lips are everywhere, trailing soft, teasing nips along my collarbone, under my chin, over my shoulders.

Someone—I think it’s Aaron from on high—yells for us to get a room, and a horn honks, starting a symphony of discordant beeping. We break apart, breathless and laughing.

I rest my head against Jake’s chest. Beneath my cheek, his heart beats a rapid rhythm that matches my own. “Looks like our time’s up.”

He brushes my hair back from my face and runs a finger along my jawline. “More like it’s just beginning.”

Jake signals to Connor, who gives him a thumbs-up and hops back into the driver’s seat of the SUV. It inches forward as someone fires the music up again and the Beatles blast from the speakers. The drag queens start twisting and shouting, and Marilyn hands Roscoe’s leash to Jake so she can join in on the fun without a one-hundred-and-eighty-pound canine holding her back.

“What are we going to do now?” I ask, not really caring. As long as we’re together. Although a little privacy would be nice so we could get started on that wall-banging sex he talked about. Followed by the slow and sweet variety.

He reaches down to pet Roscoe—the dog that started it all—then brings his mouth inches from mine, a confident, sexy smile curving his lips. “The question isn’t what are we going to do. It’s what aren’t we going to do.”