“Before you go, I need to know one thing.”
“What?”
I grab her wrist and tug her against me. Her breasts collide with my chest. I wrap my arm around her middle. Her gaze bounces up to mine, and I brace her nape in my palm. Her lips part. Then I can’t resist dipping my head and taking her mouth with my own.
If I had any doubt our chemistry would be incendiary, I put that to rest the instant our lips meet. They’re sweet and silky, pouty and yielding. They ignite an instant spark that burns through my blood.
I jerk her closer and nudge my way into her mouth, plunging inside to taste her. Amanda stiffens and gasps. Shit, she’s going to slap me across the face and fire me. But no. She grabs my shoulders, presses her body against mine, and opens to me completely.
Oh, holy fuck. This woman is burning me alive—and I don’t give a damn.
I fist her hair and press deeper into her mouth to drink in more of her sweetness. My hand suddenly takes on a life of its own, sliding from her waist, down the small of her back, to squeeze her pert ass and tuck her snugly against my aching cock.
I want her. Now. Sooner than now. I’m going to lose my damn mind before I get inside her. And it makes no sense. I’ve had my fair share of sex over the last couple of decades. I know how it usually feels and how I typically react to a woman. But this? I’ve never, ever felt this belly-lit, thought-crushing pleasure in my life. Until Amanda.
Is she with me?
I tear my lips away and stare down at her suddenly flushed face and slick, rosy lips. “Mandy? Say something, baby.”
She’s breathing hard, blinking at me, mouth agape. Finally she swallows. “What was that?”
“Something I couldn’t stop. I’ll apologize if you want me to, but I’ll be lying.”
“We already agreed getting involved would be a terrible idea.” She steps back.
I’m suddenly transfixed at the sight of her nipples stabbing the front of her nightgown. Yeah, I got to her. “We did. But I’m starting to wonder if this attraction is stronger than us.”
For a long minute, she says nothing. The only sounds I hear are Oliver’s cartoon at our feet and her choppy breathing. She glances into my eyes, then her gaze drops to my lips. My heart lurches. Is she going to kiss me again?
“I’m not interested in just sex. I can’t be.”
“I’m not, either. Whatever’s between us feels like more.” Because I don’t just want to take Amanda to bed, I want to see her protected and happy. Loved. And I can’t see anyone else giving her that but me.
Yeah, I’ve lost my mind.
Instantly, she shakes her head. “No. I’ve been down this road, in a relationship with someone so wrong for me because the attraction felt too overpowering to resist. It doesn’t lead anywhere good.”
“That was Barclay. Don’t compare me to him.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m saying the pull between us—this hot, this strong, this quick—it’s a lie. We have no future. I have a son to raise. You have a divorce to finalize. You don’t know where you’re living. I don’t know where I’m living, either. I have no money, no job. And as far as I can tell, neither do you.”
“We can figure that out together.”
“Are you listening to yourself? How can you want me for anything beyond sex?” She tosses her hands in the air. “You’ve barely known me half a day.”
Her father has underestimated Amanda. She’s learned from her mistake with Barclay. She’s trying to be logical and adult and make the most rational decision for herself and her son going forward.
And I’m dying for her to throw caution to the wind and let me do more than protect her.
“Maybe because I’ve been around the block enough to know that what we have is more than just attraction.”
“I don’t know if I can trust you—or any man—again.”
“How do you know you can’t? Are you going to spend the rest of your life alone? Are you going to deny what I can tell you’re feeling”—I press a thumb over her pounding pulse—“because you’re afraid?”
“It’s not that simple. I have more than myself to think about.”
She’s right. And she’s afraid that she’ll let herself be carried away by her feelings again. So while taking her to bed might make us both feel damn good, that won’t convince her to give us a chance.
“All right, then. Put on some clothes. I’ll make you some food, and we can talk.”
“If you have something to say, just say it.”
I can’t resist another visual skim of her curves before I force myself to look away. “If you keep wearing that silky, see-through thing and think I’ll be able to have a productive conversation, you’re insane. You look so gorgeous, and it’s taking everything I have not to pluck you up and carry you off to the bedroom.”
“Oh.” She looks surprised. “I’ll, um…be right back.”
I nod, then lift Oliver, along with his iPad, carrying both into the kitchen, then set them on the tile. As I open the nearly barren refrigerator and absently check the expiration date on a container of strawberry Greek yogurt, I wonder what the fuck I can say to win Amanda’s trust.
As I scramble another egg and toast one of the last pieces of bread, she returns to the kitchen, dressed in a springy turquoise sundress with spaghetti straps, a fitted waist, and a flirty hem that ends inches above her knees.
The dress does nothing to cool my libido.
“Is that for me?” She nods toward the stove.
“Yeah.” Her toast pops up and her egg is finished, so I plate them, along with the yogurt. Then I set them in front of a nearby barstool before doing the same with utensils and a napkin. “Eat.”
“I appreciate this. I’m starved,” she admits as she sits.
“More coffee?”
She shakes her head. “Find any bottles of water?”
“A couple.” I pluck one from the fridge and hand it her way.
“Thanks.”
While she eats, we make small talk about the grocery order we need to place and the fact that Oliver will probably need another nap soon. We discuss the weather, then finally watch Oliver watching his cartoon in a silence so packed with awareness I swear the air is buzzing.
Finally, she’s finished and stands. Together, we clean the kitchen, not exchanging a word.
I turn off the sink and say the only thing I think might convince her that I deserve her trust. “While you were sleeping, your father called and offered me a hundred thousand dollars to divulge our location.”
“What?” She gapes.
“Oh, it gets better. There was an extra twenty-five thousand in it for me if I persuaded you to see Bruce Barrett and convinced you to marry him by Thursday.”
Amanda shakes her head. “I’d be furious if it would do any good. He means well…”
“Maybe. But he doesn’t understand you.”
“What did you tell him?”
I could lie. Something pretty and not quite honest would prevent her from putting another brick in the wall between us. But if I want to win her trust, I can’t. “That I’d call him back tomorrow and let him know.”