Mia managed a nod.
His brown eyes gleamed with pure male satisfaction just for a moment, and then his expression turned sheepish. “Shit, Mia. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t think I was applying enough pressure on your lady bits—I was purposely trying not to.”
She choked out a laugh. “My lady bits?”
He cast that little-boy grin that made her pulse race. “Yes, your lady bits. A gentleman can’t say the word pussy on the first date, sugar.”
Another strangled laugh popped out. “You just said it!”
“That didn’t count.” He swept his gaze over her face. “Are you mad at me?”
“Are you seriously asking me if I’m mad that you gave me an orgasm?”
“It was only supposed to be a kiss,” he said gruffly. “I crossed the line. I’m sorry.”
Mia gaped at him. Who was this man? He’d just made her come apart in the parking lot of the restaurant. He’d barely touched her and she’d exploded like a Fourth of July firecracker, and now he was apologizing for it?
“It’s okay. I forgive you.”
Obviously he hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm because he beamed at her as if she’d just told him he’d won the lottery. “You do?”
“Jesus. Yes. Oh my God, Jackson, you really are nuts.”
“Good nuts or bad nuts?”
“There’s no such thing as good nuts!”
Smirking, he lowered his hand and cupped his groin. “Sure there is, darlin’.”
Sheer exasperation had her fighting another wave of laughter. God, this man was one of a kind. And damned if her pussy didn’t clench again the second he touched himself like that.
“So…” His hand left his crotch, his long fingers hooking in his belt loops. “When can I see you again?”
Chapter Five
“You sure you’re cool with going to a high school football game?” Mia asked Jackson on Friday night. She’d just slid into the passenger seat of his truck, which was parked at the curb in front of her building.
“I told you, as long as I get to spend time with you, I don’t care what we do.”
The smile he gave her made her heart do a silly little flip. Gosh, she’d been thinking about that smile for three days now. And his husky voice. And his gorgeous face. His rock-hard body. His hands. Yep, definitely his hands—AKA what he’d used to make her come in the parking lot of Tonio’s.
The memory continued to floor her. She’d gone to bed that night overwrought, confused and stunned, analyzing every sexual encounter she’d ever had in such detail she may as well have drawn up diagrams and flow charts. What had her previous lovers done wrong? What did Jackson know that they didn’t? Why had her body decided to respond to him when it had always been so meh about the other guys in her life?
She’d fallen asleep without reaching a single conclusion, and seeing Jackson again now only raised a slew of new problems.
Because the moment she’d gotten into his truck, she’d wanted to fuck him.
“You look sexy as hell, by the way,” he told her as he started the engine. “I’m lovin’ the outfit.”
Mia glanced down at her black Madison High Warriors T-shirt, skinny jeans with a hole in the left knee and bright red flats, wondering how anyone could label the outfit “sexy as hell”. And yet Jackson was eyeing her like he wanted to peel off her clothes, lay her down in the back of the truck and devour her whole.
“Um, thanks,” she answered. “You look nice, too.”
Nice? Ha. The man was a walking Adonis. She’d never met anyone who could pull off Levis, wifebeaters and plaid shirts better than Jackson Ramsey. He oozed raw masculinity in his casual get-up, and the fact that he hadn’t shaved since she’d seen him last only aided his heartthrob cause. The dark stubble slashing his jaw was so hot her fingers itched to stroke all those sexy bristles.
“Thanks, sugar. That’s sweet of you to say.” He put the car in drive and turned to look at her. “So where am I goin’?”
She gave him directions to Danny’s school and then they were off, Jackson smoothly switching gears as he merged into traffic. When they reached the stop sign at the end of the street, he leaned forward and flicked on the radio. The upbeat tempo of a Temptations song wafted out of the speakers, prompting Jackson to sing along.
Mia burst out laughing. Never in a million years would she have pictured herself sitting in a pickup truck with a bona-fide cowboy, listening to him croon out the words to “My Girl”.
“What, no country music?” she teased.
Shrugging, he shot her a sideways look. “Oldies are my guilty pleasure. I only listen to country when I’m feelin’ down.”
“I can’t imagine you ever feeling down,” she said frankly. “You might just be the happiest, most well-adjusted man I’ve ever met.”