Ever.
“It was fantastic,” I admit about the lobster. “Outside of being a pain in the ass to eat.”
“You can order them to be cracked and the meat pulled out for you,” Jane tells me. “But you’d look like a total pansy ass at that point, and I don’t think that would be a good look on you.”
My lips twitch as she’d be totally right about that, but I don’t respond. Despite Jane’s knack for keeping conversation flowing, I also find that moments of silence with her are just as comfortable.
So comfortable, in fact, I almost trip over my own feet when she startles me with her next crazy proclamation. “I think this was a nice date, and I’m wondering if you’re going to kiss me when we get to my house.”
“It’s not a date,” I say automatically and way too vehemently, and Jane just snickers at me.
“Of course it’s a date,” she says. “You picked me up, took me to a nice restaurant, we had amazing conversation, lingered long over dessert, and we’re taking a totally romantic walk back to my house.”
“It was a thank you for helping me paint,” I state firmly.
“That would have been beer and a pizza, not a romantic restaurant,” she counters.
“You picked the restaurant,” I remind her.
She ignores that very pointed reminder. “So are you going to kiss me?”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, completely wanting to tell her, No, I’m not going to kiss you. Not now. Not ever. But nothing else comes out.
She snickers again. “You totally want to kiss me.”
“Wring your neck more like it,” I growl at her.
She laughs at me again, and my lips twitch… again.
“Seriously though,” she says solemnly as she stops mid-stride and curls her hand around my forearm, which causes me to stop and turn to her. Her gaze is troubled, all traces of amusement gone. “I’m giving you a hard time. You don’t have to kiss me.”
I stare at her a thoughtful moment, my eyes moving over her beautifully innocent face. Her head tilts to the side, almost as if she’s trying to figure out what’s lurking inside my head.
“I’ll think about it,” I finally tell her. “And let you know when we get to your house.”
She beams a smile up at me. It causes my stomach to tighten and my skin to tingle, in a not wholly unpleasant way. So I’m guessing I already have my answer.
Jane moves her hand down my forearm, past my wrist, and slides her palm against mine. Her fingers curl around my own as she says, “The suspense is killing me. I hope it lasts. Willy Wonka, 1971.”
Smiling internally but never showing her that she amuses me, I don’t bother pulling my hand away from hers because it feels too damn nice. It’s soft and warm and secure against mine, unlike anything I’ve felt in my grasp before.
Instead, I just start walking, this time a bit quicker and with our hands firmly clasped together.
We walk past her parents’ house in silence, and the yappy dog the next house down is thankfully inside. Otherwise, Jane might be tempted to pull away from me to pet that ridiculously loud thing.
When we reach Jane’s house, she lets go of my hand and reaches into her purse to pull out a set of keys. Rather than unlock her door, she turns to me with her chin lifted in challenge. “Do you want to come in for a drink?”
“Not really,” I tell her truthfully, because, in my mind, if I step through that door, it’s going to be more than just a kiss. I’m not a gentleman, and I’m used to taking what I want. Jane will be in very real danger if I take her up on her offer.
She cocks an eyebrow at me skeptically. “I know no man who won’t accept an invitation in for a drink.”
“Is that really what you’re offering me?” I counter in a low voice.
She blinks at me in surprise. “Well, of course that’s what I’m offering. Is that wrong?”
“I thought you wanted a kiss,” I remind her.
“I do,” she says with her chin tilting higher. “But I figured we could have a drink… talk some more.”
God, she can’t be that fucking na?ve. And if she really is, I need to educate her a bit on the dangers of assuming nice things about me.
I step toward Jane, crowding her space and forcing her to step backward until her back flattens against the door. I take another half a step until our bodies are separated by just a few inches of air and vibrating tension. As I peer down at her, I take in the fact her breathing has gotten faster and her eyelids have dropped slightly. Her gaze lowers slowly until she focuses on my mouth, and fuck it all to hell… she licks her lips.
It takes a massive amount of sheer willpower not to touch her.
Grab her.
Fuck… maul her.
I want to fucking maul her like a damn savage, but that’s not me anymore.
I swear it’s not me.