Page 85 of The Treasure House

I suppressed a smile. “I guess that’s true. But, I’m not sure if you’re aware, there’s a whole range of new technologies now that allow you to date out of your pool. Have you heard of Bumble or Hinge?”

“I’m an old-fashioned guy,” he protested. “I like meeting people in real life.”

“I think I’m better not in real life,” I admitted. “You can banter better when you have time to think about it.”

“You are definitely better in real life,” he said firmly. And then he inched closer, his woody scent wrapping around me. “Scripted banter is overrated.” He met my gaze and my stomach dropped in slow motion.

“Aren’t you worried,” I breathed as he leaned toward me, “about what might happen if this goes wrong?”

“Don’t you think about,” he countered, sliding even closer, “what might happen if this goes right?”

“The thing is… I have a kid.”

“Yeah, I know her.”

“So I can’t… just…”

“What? Enjoy yourself?”

I bit my lip. He hadn’t even touched me and my skin was singing.

“Zoe,” he said, and his low voice made me shiver. “I don’t know what this is, or what it’s going to be. I’m not making any promises.”

I think my face fell because he smiled. And then he reached out a finger and traced the line of my jaw.

“Except,” he murmured, “I promise to be nice, and I promise to be honest with you.”

Every bit of me seemed to be focused on the patch of skin beneath his finger.

“I don’t know what I want,” I blurted.

“That’s okay.” He leaned closer. “What if I ask and you just tell me yes or no?”

His finger had migrated to my ear, tracing my lobe, which was stunningly sexy. Who knew.

“If I were to kiss you,” he murmured, “would you want that?”

I thought about it. For about half a second. “Yes.”

He took the wine from my hand and put it on the coffee table. The lightning was flickering, casting bright sheets of light as he turned back to me. “I like that answer.” He cupped my face with his hand and pulled me gently toward him.

When his lips touched mine, I just melted, like I had no bones.

Jake Abernathy tasted salty sweet. And God, he was a good kisser. He took it slow, his lips firm but teasing, gentle and slow. I pressed against him, and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, the feeling of him holding me tight felt simultaneously comforting and so incredibly hot. My body felt like it was waking up from a long slumber, nerve endings I’d forgotten I even had zinging to life. I could feel his hard chest pressing into me, sending tingles through every inch of my skin. I deepened the kiss, wanting more. So much more. I had a fistful of his hair in my hand, as I wrapped myself around him. He moaned into my lips, turned on by my hunger. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anyone.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the day you walked into my store,” Jake whispered when he finally broke the kiss.

I was breathless, my heart clamoring. “Funny, I don’t remember getting that impression.” I pressed closer. “I think I want you to kiss me again.”

“You think or you do?”

“I do.”

This time the kiss deepened much further, his hands sliding down my back as his tongue slipped along my lips. I opened for him and then things got even hotter. His tongue slid into me as his hands slipped under my sweater and onto my bare back. His palms were warm, sending sparks billowing in their wake as they ran over my skin. I tangled one hand in his hair and arched against him, wishing those big warm hands would keep moving. As though reading my mind, his hands traced the line of my spine, down to my ass. I moaned as he gave me a squeeze and hauled me across his lap. I could feel him hard against me and I gave his lower lip a teasing bite.

If the oven timer hadn’t gone off, I’m not sure we would have stopped.

“Whoa,” he said breathlessly, disentangling himself. “I meant to go slow.”