He drew his brows together. “Stay here all night and talk to you. Kiss those amazing lips of yours and see if you taste as sweet as you seem. Bury my hand in that gorgeous hair of yours—” He slid his hand beneath her hair and fisted his hand in it, angling her head back just a little. “And set my lips on your neck.” He pulled her in close and pressed a kiss to the base of her neck, which zapped her brain cells.
He opened his mouth, his soft lips sending shocks of desire through her body. His tongue slid along her skin as he kissed his way to the tender spot below her ear. She didn’t even know she was sensitive there, but she was trembling against him. “And taste you until you’re squirming so badly you have to kiss me back.”
His whisper stole her breath. She could barely think past the desires coursing through her. He took her earlobe between his teeth, then sucked it into his mouth, and she worried she might die on the spot, it was such a rush. She fisted her hand in his shirt and a heated whisper tumbled out.
“Kiss me.”
Their eyes met for a split second before he lowered his glorious lips to hers and she got her first taste of him. She felt each kiss all the way to her toes, soft and unyielding at the same time. His mouth was hot, every stroke of his tongue, eager and hungry. He deepened the kiss, and it sparked an urgency for more that she didn’t understand but didn’t have any desire to fight. She threaded her hands in his hair, earning her a deep, masculine groan from deep in his lungs, which vibrated in his chest as he pulled her closer. She’d never been kissed like this before. Had no idea a kiss could consume her like this. How could anybody kiss like this and ever move on to anything else? Their kiss eased to a slow passion that burned through every inch of her shiver-ridden body. He kissed her more softly, drawing his lips away, and she pressed on the back of his head, unwilling to relent just yet. This was too delicious, too mesmerizing, too freeing. He met her need and deepened the kiss again. Their tongues crashed, air passed from his lungs to hers, then back again. She felt something inside her whir like a bird’s wings, and as they finally, reluctantly, drew apart, a needful sound escaped.
“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you.” His whisper was low and gravelly.
She opened her mouth to say something. What, she had no clue. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t speak. She could only want. She pulled his mouth to hers again, melting against him, and she went a little crazy—fisting her hands in his shirt, clawing for more of his sinfully delicious mouth. Oh gosh, what was she doing? She had to stop. She knew she should. She wasn’t this type of girl. She didn’t attack men with her mouth and cling to them like they were hers for the taking. But…he smelled so good, and he was so strong, holding her against him, returning her desire with an intensity she’d only dreamed of. She kissed him harder. She could kiss him all night. They didn’t have to do anything more. Just to have this connection, this inferno blazing between them. It was more than she’d ever felt for anything. Except the cello. She loved playing as much as she loved kissing him. No, no, no! This was so much better, hotter, more satisfying, all-consuming. She needed oxygen, but she couldn’t pull away. Wouldn’t. She’d rather drown in this kiss. Tomorrow the girls would come out and find her body seared from the inside out, lying lifeless on the bench with a smile on her lips, and someone would win five dollars. Just when she was about to draw away with the need to breathe, he breathed air into her lungs. Oh, she was head over heels for him, for his kisses. She was hopeless. She slowly became aware of his heart beating against her hand again. Of his erratic breathing mirroring her own. Of the feel of his hand pressed against the back of her skull, the other hand firmly holding her hip. Her clutch on his shirt softened, and everything in her mind settled and came together in one final, breathtaking press of their lips.
She had to move. She was dangerously close to going further, to pulling his lips down her body…Stop. Stop. Stop.
She didn’t even know him. She blinked several times to try to get past the heat that blurred her vision, and she forced herself to push away from his chest.
There. Space between us. Good.
Not good. Bad. Very bad. She didn’t want that space. It didn’t feel good at all.
His lips parted in a sexy, easy smile that nearly had her falling into him again.
“I should…” She pointed toward her apartment.
He cupped her cheek. “Jessica, what are you doing tomorrow?”
“Hopefully kissing you.” Her hand flew to her mouth, and she slammed her eyes shut. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud. When he laughed, a deep, devastatingly masculine laugh, it drew her eyes open. “I’m sorry. I blame the tequila.”
“I’m buying a bottle tomorrow.”
The flirtatious glimmer in his eyes nearly did her in.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” he repeated.
“Tomorrow. Um…I don’t know.” Her mind was a little clearer now, but her heart was still racing. She tried to remember what she was doing tomorrow. “I want to see if I can find out who won that auction.”
“I’m taking Vera to the flea market in the morning. Want to come with us? We can get to know each other better.”
Get to know each other better. Oh gosh. That drove reality home. They’d known each other only a day, and she’d hit him with her phone and mauled him like a ten-dollar hooker.
She suddenly felt very exposed. She realized she was practically sitting on top of him; her torso was stretched across his lap. She glanced at her legs—her dress was bunched up at the top of her thighs. She tugged at the hem and felt her cheeks flush.
He reached down and helped her right her dress. “I didn’t look. Don’t worry.”
She smiled. Everything about him was easy. He was easy to kiss—way too easy to kiss—easy to like, easy to touch, easy to be with.
She scooted off the bench and wobbled when she rose to her feet. He was beside her in a flash, with one strong arm wrapped securely around her waist, the other holding her hand.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m not a drinker. Or a…” Slut. Temptress. Oh my goodness, could you really think that about me? “A girl who kisses a guy she’s known less than a day.”
He smiled again. Darn that smile. It pulled one from her, too. She couldn’t even really be mad at herself for kissing him. Any woman in her right mind would have done the same. He was sweet, and hot, and hard bodied. Really hard bodied.
“It’s not your fault. I’m hard to resist.” His eyes brightened with the tease.
“That you are, Mr. Reed.” She took a step toward her place to keep from going up on her tiptoes and kissing him again.
“So, you claim you’re not a phone thrower or a kisser. What kind of girl are you?” His arm remained around her waist as they walked down the gravel road toward her apartment.
She shrugged. “I’m not really sure. That’s kind of why I took the summer off. To find out.”