“Ainsley,” he growled. “Stop moving around.”
“I can’t get comfy . . .” She wigged again, and his eyes nearly rolled back into his head.
“I’m not joking. Stop. Moving.” Please. Please, please, please. “Please.”
“Maybe if I just . . .” She tried to shift her legs farther back, but they just tangled with his and pressed her backside more firmly against him. Kyle grunted softly.
“What’s wrong?”
He cleared his throat. “What?”
“You made a hmph.”
He had two choices: coming clean or lying his pants off. Though not his preference, lying was probably better in this case, because the other option might lead to taking his pants off. And he didn’t know how he felt about that just yet, as much as he liked her. It seemed like a good way to ruin things early on. So he lied.
“There’s a wrench or something in my side, what do you want from me?”
“Really? I thought I cleared everything around here...”
“Well, you didn’t,” he growled, as she felt under them to try to remove the offending item, and he gave up his ruse lest she touch lower by accident and discover what’d happened. “Fine, there’s no wrench, I just can’t have you so . . . close to me.” Distract her! Quick! “Here, lift your head.”
She did, and he slid his fleece-covered arm under it. It should cushion her head and neck nicely.
“Better?” His voice had softened, like butter left out.
“Yes,” she whispered. Under the drop cloth, he let his left hand rest on her hip.
“Isn’t this going to hurt your arm?” Her concern was thoughtful but unnecessary. He was fairly sure he’d have it amputated if that’s what she needed. Maybe that’s just the way it felt.
“I’ll survive.”
“Are you sure we can’t sleep on that roll of insulation?”
“And get cancer from breathing in fiberglass all night? No, thank you.”
He could hear the smile in her voice. “Such a pessimist.”
“Optimism doesn’t pay the bills, Sunshine.” He’d never called her that out loud, and he felt a furious blush take his cheeks. God bless the darkness. What was happening to him? How were his private thoughts and nicknames suddenly pouring out of him like this?
“I see why everyone loves your bedside manner so much.”
He snorted, recovering from his embarrassment. “I may not coddle them, but I take very good care of them. I tell them exactly what they need to hear.”
She rolled over to face him, and her cookie-scented breath warmed his face. He could just see the outline of her.
“I like that about you. But I wouldn’t want you to tell me I had cancer.”
“I don’t think I could treat you anyway.” He pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“No?”
“No. I’d be . . . biased. Distracted.”
“You find me distracting?”
He nodded, curling her closer to him. “Very.” Kyle kissed her quietly, breathing a happy sigh, finally getting what he wanted. “I find a lot of things about you distracting, though. Your body’s only part of it.”
“My genius with pipe cleaners is pretty impressive.”
“How can you say that like it’s a joke?” He knew he sounded incensed, but he kind of was.
“Isn’t it? My job is definitely a joke compared to yours.”
“What? That’s garbage. I could never do your job. I have no idea how you handle thirty squirrely kids five days a week. Abe Lincoln would approve, especially given how you put up with my nephew.”
“He’s a sweet kid,” she said, pushing at his chest. “I love Cooper.” He loved him, too, but he had to disagree with her on the first part.
“‘Sweet’ is a stretch. He’s just like Philip as a kid. A handful.”
“I’d say he turned out okay.”
Kyle nodded. He didn’t want to talk about his brother; he took her chin gently in his hand and kissed her again. Their caresses were lazy, languid; she shivered, and he hoped it was because she was as affected as he was, and not because she was cold. He certainly wasn’t cold; every touch of her tongue to his had him feeling like he was on fire. She was a good kisser, and he tried not to hate whoever she’d practiced with. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew she was looking at him, and he wished he could see her pretty blue eyes. He couldn’t believe he had Ainsley Buchanan in the dark, all to himself . . . and he violently wished the circumstances were different. His mind started supplying a lot of ways this could be better—a lot better.
“Kyle?”
“Ains?” There he went with nicknames again. They should kiss some more; that would keep personal things from popping out of his mouth.
“What are you thinking about?”
“When a man is holding the woman of his dreams in the dark,” he said slowly, “that doesn’t seem like an entirely fair question.”
“Do you plead the fifth?”
He laughed softly, then kissed her. “Yes.” He kissed her again, his tongue sneaking into her mouth, making her groan. “Effervescent. I stand by it.”
“Tell me.” That breathy voice was not helping him rein in his thoughts.
“Tell you . . . what I’m thinking about?” His voice sounded as uncertain as he felt. Kyle kept his mouth busy with more kisses while he considered her question; he was greedy for more. “That’s not going to happen. I’m going to have to be content with thinking for tonight, and telling you all about it probably isn’t going to . . .” He trailed off, distracted again. Those many thoughts were back again. “God, Ainsley,” he whispered. “You have no idea how much I want you.”
“I want you, too,” she whispered. Call the coroner. He was now dead.
He groaned. “Don’t. We can’t.” For a lot of reasons.
“I know,” she said quickly. “I just wanted you to know.”
“God, you’re sweet. You put every sweet thing to shame, Ainsley Rose.”
“I’m not always sweet.” That teasing lilt—it was wicked. Pure naughtiness.
“I don’t know what you’re planning, but don’t,” he said with a waver in his voice. He cleared his throat, then made his voice firm. “Don’t.” If she made a move on him now, he didn’t know if he could find the strength to make her stop.
“If you think your stern doctor voice is going to make me comply, then you’re underestimating how much I love hearing it . . .” He felt a warm hand slide softly down his torso toward his beltline, but he caught her wrist just in time.
“Ainsley . . .” The tremor was back. “I’m trying to be a good guy here. We haven’t even been on a date yet.” Kyle kissed her hard; the heat was back. His body clearly thought his brain lacked ambition.
“Cards and cookies in a trailer don’t count?”
He released her wrist and let his hand slide up her side, then he cursed as he drew back. “We’re going to take this slow . . .” He was talking to himself as much as to her.
“You asked me when I’d last been kissed. You didn’t ask when I’d last been—”