“Did you think I’d say no?”
“I hurt you.”
“You explained everything. And she is…impossible.”
“One more thing: do you think we could please not talk about Samara this weekend?”
“Sounds perfect to me,” Jane said. “Hey…I just remembered something—”
“What? You’re going to my nieces’ christening with Paul?”
“Now that’s something we’re going to need to talk about,” she said. “You know, I’m not the only one with trust issues, Lars.”
“Fine. Then, please just tell me…what’s going on with you two? What did I see?”
“I don’t like unwarranted jealousy, so I’m not answering this question again. Got it?”
He nodded, holding her eyes.
“You sure?”
“Jane!”
“We’re friends. Friends. Nothing else. He kissed my cheek last night. He was trying to cheer me up because I thought you were going to Jackson Hole with my cousin and Paul knew I had feelings for you. He talked to me about the woman he’s met online, and I talked to him about you.” Her lips tilted up a little and she looked at him tenderly. “He gave me hope. He said my heart is safe with you.”
“He’s right.” He smiled at her. “That’s my goal for the weekend, Minx. For you to trust me.”
Jane took a deep breath but crossed her legs toward him. “Got your work cut out for you, Professor.”
“I’m a hard worker. I care about you.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know everything I need to know, Jane Mays.” He took a deep breath, looking away from her, gesturing to the house in front of them. “So…this is my driveway. That’s my house. You’re in charge, so we can stay here in my truck chatting all night if you like, or we could—”
“I’ll come in.”
***
It was taking all of his self-control not to kiss her or touch her, but he didn’t trust their footing yet and he meant it when he said that she was calling the shots. He couldn’t afford to make any mistakes with Jane right now, so he was fully prepared to follow her lead. He walked around to her side of the truck, offering his hand to help her climb down.
“Hey, before I interrupted you…you were about to say something. Something you remembered. What were you going to say?” he asked.
She laced her fingers through his as they walked up the porch steps. Her hand was soft and warm, and it felt ridiculously good to have it back in his. He looked down at their interlocked hands. Flat-out sexy.
“The grizzlies.”
The grizzlies. She wanted him to take her to the park.
Through the haze of his lust for her, it occurred to him that this—right now, right this second holding hands with Jane in his driveway staring into her eyes while the sun died behind them—was a perfect moment. And he never wanted it to end. He thought he had a grip on his feelings for her, but suddenly he knew they were deeper than he had realized. If it didn’t feel so damn good, it would have been sobering to pinpoint the second he knew that he was just about gone.
“Want to see ’em tomorrow?”
“Will you take me?” she asked, bright eyes twinkling up at him.
Anywhere, Minx. I’ll take you anywhere.
“Yeah. Tomorrow morning. Early.”
“How early is early?” she asked, as they walked up the steps and he unlocked the door that led into his living room.
“So early it’d be smarter for you to just stay over.” He meant for this to be playful, but his voice, full of hunger for her, came out gruffer and more serious than he intended. He shut the door behind him, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, she dropped his hand.
Damn it, Lars. You overplayed that hand. Don’t push h—
He could barely see more than the outline of her head and shoulders in the dim light, but feeling her hands on his chest made his breath catch. First just her fingers, flat against his pecs before she slid them up to his neck. He took a shallow breath as she pressed the base of her hands flush to his jaw, fingers resting cool and light on his cheeks. Reaching out, he found her waist, and then lowered his hands to her hips, pulling her up against his chest. He knew that the back of the sofa was just behind her, so he stepped forward. When she bumped up against the upholstery, he slipped his hands under her backside and lifted her, so she was perched up in front of him. He stepped forward once more, between her legs, and his blood raced south as he felt her legs rise, brushing against his thighs until she locked them around his waist, behind his back, pulling him as close to her as possible. She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her until his lips made contact with hers.
He wanted her. God, how he wanted her.
His lips slanted over hers again and again until they matched perfectly, their tongues touching, licking and stroking gently. He found the edge of her flimsy little shirt and lifted it up over her head, until there was nothing between him and her skin but her bra and his polo shirt, which he pulled up and off one-handed, breaking contact with her for only a second, before finding her lips in the dark again.
He ran his palms up and down the smooth, warm skin of her back, finding the clasp of her bra and dispatching it quickly. She loosened her arms from his neck so that he could slip it down, listening to the whisper of it hitting the hardwood floor.
He ran his palms up and down her bare back, sighing into her mouth, blood rushing like lava to his groin as his chest pressed—skin against skin—into hers for the first time. Her soft breasts were crushed against the hair of his chest and his heart beat relentlessly, a riot of feelings wreaking havoc on his body, in his head, and in his heart.
She tore her lips away from his and he heard her voice as if through gauze, “Wait. Lars, wait.”
Lars bent his head to her shoulder, pressing his lips to her soft, sweet-smelling skin, then dragging them along her collarbone to the base of her throat where her pulse fluttered in a tiny alcove. He rested his lips there with his eyes closed, fingers still running slowly, reverently, up and down the smooth planes of her back.
“Lars,” she whispered.
Finally he raised his head and leaned back to look at her.
His eyes had adjusted to the soft twilight flooding the room from the windows and he could just make out her face: red lips, tendrils from her little ponytail loose around her face, wide eyes tender and soft as they gazed up at him.
His arms were still wrapped around her as she perched on the back of the sofa, and she felt small and warm in his arms, which were dark and tan against the white skin of her waist. Trying to slow down his heart was impossible. This wasn’t enough. This wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted her. All of her.
“Lars,” she murmured again in her throaty voice, reaching up to touch his cheek with her palm. “There’s no rush. We have all night.”
All night. He glanced down between them, where her breasts pressed against his chest. The impulse to kiss his way from her neck to her waist, loving every spot of skin in between, was almost unbearable.
All night. It was more than he had hoped for. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. She was calling the shots and if she wanted to slow down, he wouldn’t pressure her, no matter how much he ached for her. He nodded, sighing loudly, maybe even a little sorry for himself.