I pulled back from him, my lips swollen, the area around my mouth tickled hot from his beard. My head tipped back a bit, seeming to float along, my body knowing what to do even if my mind didn’t quite understand exactly what I was feeling. The feeling underneath all the swimmy and silly and tipsy from the farmer, the feeling that something epic and unusual was happening. Leo followed me back, his lips tracing a path down my neck, licking and sucking and groaning as his hands now came up to carefully thumb open one button on my shirt, and then the next.
He looked up at me, his eyes heavy and dark and thrilling. He raised an eyebrow, I nodded, and he began to peel the edges of my shirt back, revealing an edge of lace. And as he bent his head back to me, his lips barely brushing the tops of my breasts, I knew exactly where I was hoping this would go—and exactly the conversation I needed to have before it went there. Losing myself, and my fingers, in his hair, I murmured in a low voice, “Leo?”
“Mmm?” he replied, his lips tickling my throat.
“Remember what we were talking about earlier, about love at first sight, and relationships and Prince Charming and all that?”
“Mm-hmm,” he said, turning those blazing eyes up toward me. “Prince Charming, sure. Were you going to ask to see my sword or something?”
I could feel his grin; it was wide enough to touch the tops of both my left and right breasts. I giggled in spite of myself, then tried to use my big girl voice. “You know I’m only here for the summer, right?”
“I’m aware. Were you aware you had a freckle in between your—”
“I’m aware,” I said, groaning, my skin buzzy and tight. “But, the summer—”
“Yes, you’re here for the summer. And only the summer. You mention that a lot. Do you turn into a pumpkin in September or something?”
I grinned, but then turned serious again. “I mention it a lot because I like things to be clear-cut and aboveboard, with no messy misunderstandings later on. So, you should know I don’t really get involved. Actually, I don’t at all get involved.”
He stopped the kissing and the awesome, and lifted his face to look at me. Really look at me. He seemed to be studying me, trying to figure out what I was thinking, and what I wasn’t saying. And even though I’d had this conversation with men before, this time I felt a . . . curious sort of twinge. But before I could marinate on it, he nodded. Then he returned his lips to my collarbone, and I twinged no more. And as his mouth grew heated across my skin again, as I felt my hips begin to move against his, my phone rang from across the room.
I groaned, leaning back against the table as he looked across the kitchen.
“Do you need to get that?” he asked, his hands slipping back down to my waist and tugging me against him, holding me closer. Yes, closer!
“No, I don’t think so,” I replied, sinking my hands into his hair. Thick and silky, it curled naturally over my fingertips. We played a silent waiting game as the phone rang three times before finally going to voice mail. And in that time, we breathed together, my chest rising in time with his.
I bent over to kiss the top of his head, and he moaned. “You should do that again,” he murmured into my skin.
“Do what?” I asked, repeating the motion.
“That,” he answered, kissing the top of my breast. “It lets me see all the way down your shirt.”
Laughing, I smacked his back, letting my nails dig in a little as I dragged my hands up toward his shoulders. In retaliation, he squeezed my waist a bit harder, his fingers digging in to a borderline tickle.
And the phone rang again. Oh, for the love . . .
I tried to reach my phone without leaving his lap, but couldn’t. I huffed as I lifted myself off Leo, taking two steps forward then one step back for one more kiss. He leaned in hungrily, and one kiss became eight. Eight became thirteen. My phone stopped ringing.
Thirteen was on its way to a very magical twenty-seven when my phone rang for the third time. I literally had to pry my lips from his, using my thumb as a crowbar. “There better be something on fire,” I said, finally retrieving my phone. I didn’t recognize the number.
“Is this Roxie Callahan?” a man’s voice asked.
“Speaking.”
“This is the fire department.”