He grinned back because he’d been expecting the question. “Nice girl, but I called her a taxi about an hour ago.”
She grabbed a hold of his collar and gave it a little tug. “So this was a setup?”
“You’re the one who was snooping.”
“Did you play nine ball?”
“No.” He leaned in close, until his mouth hovered mere inches away from hers.
“Did you kiss her?”
“No.” He smiled down at her. “Right now, the only woman I want to kiss is you.”
Chapter Eight
@smartCupid Ending a successful first date with a goodnight kiss is absolutely fine.
Jane’s common sense unraveled in a mad dash of kissing as she dragged him out the front door of the bar.
Charlie Goodman.
She was kissing her sexy, rule-breaking, drive-me-wild ex. Even though he wasn’t technically her ex. She drew him into a dimly lit corner of the art deco building and kissed him as if her life depended on it. The flickering streetlamp across the alleyway egged her on, telling her to “go for it.” But she dragged her lips away before her brain short-circuited completely.
“I’m not about to fall for you,” she said.
“I’m not asking you to fall.” His voice was an invitation to sin and she wondered if holding out was the smart move. But he was leaning. And hovering. And so close to kissing her.
“Good.”
“Great.”
“Let’s get the hell out of here.”
And then she was kissing him again. And again. As they stumbled to the curb to hail a taxi. Up against the vinyl backseat of the cab as it sped across town. Until they spilled out of the cab onto the sidewalk in front of her building, all lip-locked and breathless.
She was giving into a jealousy-fueled and highly territorial impulse to stake her claim, and while she knew it was wrong on so many levels, to stop kissing him right now would shatter her heart into a million broken little pieces, so she was going to go along for the ride. She needed to keep her heart intact. The rest of it she’d figure out tomorrow.
Tonight had felt like her pre-fantasy island days with Charlie. Talking pool at Temptation. Listening while he confessed all the missteps of his dating life. Hockey. Hot wings.
Everything.
But better. She was kissing Charlie Goodman.
As the taxi sped away from the curb, she took his hand and drew him up the snow-covered steps outside her front door, ready for a post-date, goodnight kiss. Her eyelids dropped to half-mast as she sank her fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth down hard on hers.
He pulled back, his gray eyes dark with curiosity and heat, but—and maybe it was her imagination—almost tentative at their edges. “What about the no kissing rule?”
Jane bit her bottom lip. His low, husky voice uttering the word “kissing” caused her stomach to do a world-class somersault as she remembered their two amazing weeks of fun in the sun…and the shade…and pretty much everywhere in-between. Sweet, hopeful memories of Charlie’s hands—hands that had previously explored all the secret places of her body—flooded her system. Making love with Charlie Goodman had been like setting off a string of fireworks, watching them explode into the night sky. All color and heat…and illegal in a few states. And she wanted to feel that way again.
The thought of Charlie taking his date home tonight, sharing Belgian waffles and special dark roast coffee in the morning was a freaking wake-up call. And as for playing pool…well, pool was their game. Her game with Charlie, and logical or not, she didn’t want to share. “Rules are made to be broken.”
A possessive shiver ran through her body and he raised her collar, mistakenly protecting her from an uptake of cold night air.
“Cold?” he asked.
A whispered, “no”, served as her response.
He didn’t know she couldn’t feel the chill in the February air. Couldn’t hear the noise filling the Manhattan streets. All she could hear was the blood rushing through her veins, clamoring in her mind, its heat infusing every inch of her body. Even as her brain repeated the criteria on her sensible list, his hands curved around her waist to hold her steady on the snow-covered steps, and she accepted the fact that she loved kissing this man. And she wanted more.
She grabbed the collar of his coat and brought his mouth crashing back down on hers. All the pent-up emotion of the last six months erupted between them, making the kiss grow insistent, full of all the desperate longing of the past. Her heart raced as he deepened the kiss, and a soft moan rose from her throat.
Kaboom.
Fireworks exploded inside her, like New Year’s in Times Square, falling from the center of her body to its rapidly unraveling edges as she eagerly returned his kiss. She tugged on the collar of his jacket, coaxing him closer, her body seeking out his warmth, his sexy vitality. She felt so alive with this man. So free. When was the last time she’d felt so free? She couldn’t remember. Back in Brooklyn, maybe. Hot damn, he’d promised he could still deliver one hell of a goodnight kiss. And deliver he did.
Now she was going to do him one better.
As her heart raced ahead of her brain, she leaned into him, her mouth clinging to his lips, ready to give as good as she got. Her mouth moved under his, silently demanding, passionately insistent. If this was what a chemical meltdown felt like, she was ready for it. Not willing to wait another moment, she wrapped her elbows around his neck, entwining her fingers deep into his dark hair, climbing his body until her toes dangled above the snowy steps. She was just getting started, just settling in, when he pulled his lips away slowly.
A quiet moan of protest escaped her and she pulled him back against her, her body melting into his, the space between them disappearing into the moonlight, their shared heartbeat pounding in time with the familiar rhythm of the city street. Everything felt so right. The taste of him, the feel of his mouth as it traveled the hollows of her throat. In this moment, she no longer cared about criteria lists or dating applications. All she cared about was kissing Charlie Goodman to within an inch of his natural life.
A light flickered inside the lobby, illuminating the now slightly wicked smile that crossed his face as he pressed her up against the stone portico. He held her gently for a moment before loosening his grip enough to allow her body to slide slowly down the hard length of him until she was back on the snow-covered, semi-solid ground.
With an unspoken agreement between them, her hands dug inside her pockets, fumbling for the keys as his hands perused her hips. A wave of lusty relief flooded her system as she put the key in the lock and stumbled into the building still wrapped in his arms, falling back against the door and closing it with a bang.
Inside the small tiled foyer, she kissed him…dragging him alongside the wrought-iron banister, pulling him up against the line of bronze mailboxes, secreting him into the dark, hidden corner…kissing him until she thought her heart would burst from the joy of it.
When she finally came up for air—nearly breathless, buzzing with passion, her cheeks flushed, blood rushing through her veins—the look in his eyes told her there was so much more on the line than a simple wager. She pressed her face against his throat, unable to deal with all the silent emotion building between them.
Even through her slight whiskey haze, she knew she’d be crazy to let him pull the rock-steady ground from beneath her feet. She wanted that safe life, all neat, tidy, and without risky wagers and emotional roller coasters. She did. She wanted that life—with a man who met all her criteria at its center. But tonight? Right now? She wanted Charlie.
Could she handle one night with her friend, or rather her ex-friend turned lover, now ex-lover turned current bachelor? Or if she tumbled into bed with him again, would the fallout destroy her for a safe, reliable man? And what about Charlie? He’d played the role of confirmed bachelor to the hilt, but she knew she’d hurt him by bolting from their relationship.
Before their sexcapade, he’d been one of her c
losest friends, practically family. Not wanting to analyze her feelings, she leaned into him, and let all the noise in her mind disappear. Giving in to their chemistry was kicking caution to the curb, and yes, Charlie was all risk and heat, and yet, standing there in the circle of his arms, he felt so damned honest, so familiar…so right.
If only she could trust him to stay. If only that was how love worked. But tonight wasn’t about long-term love or compatibility.
Never gamble on love.
Yeah, well, to hell with self-preservation. At least for tonight.
She shoved away her warring thoughts and focused on the strong planes of Charlie’s face, letting her gaze linger, etching his expression in her mind. If this was going to be the only time she’d kiss him, she wanted to make it last, to write every moment of her passionate time with him on her heart and soul so that when tomorrow came, a part of him would always be with her. She grabbed the edge of his black leather jacket and dragged him up the stairs.
As far as tonight, she’d take everything she could.
…
A helluva goodnight kiss, Charlie thought, up against the front door of her apartment, reveling in the way she was kissing him with such undeniable longing.
He drew away slowly, his lips lingering against hers, feeling her soft, heated breath against his cheek. He took in her expression, her softly parted lips, her flushed skin. God, she was beautiful. Framing her face with his hands, he kissed her again, tenderly dropping his lips to the edge of her temples, the curve of her cheek, until moving finally to her waiting lips.
He kissed her the way he’d dreamed of kissing her, every day, hell, every hour, of the past six months. Kissed her slowly and thoroughly. Kissed her with the desperation he felt after months of missed opportunities. And she kissed him back with a fervor that matched his own.
If she had even one ounce of willpower left, he wanted to strip it away, to lay her bare, to show her the chemistry between them was real. But he wasn’t about to let her cop out to a cocktail and a rush of misplaced jealousy. Not tonight. Not ever. Provoking her had been fun, especially when she rose to the bait, but now he wanted to prove to her that their special brand of chemistry could last. He’d missed her and he wanted to show her exactly how much.
All the contained, endless tension between them exploded at that moment, making the kiss hungrier, like a frantic rush of craving and desire. Snatching the keys from her hand, he managed to jam the right one into the lock. He nudged her inside the door and kicked it shut behind them.
Pressing the line of her body against the inside of the door, he took a minute to slow down, to rain small, tender kisses across her mouth, nipping gently at the edges until he could wait no longer. He buried his hands in her fragrant curls, breathed her into his system, and kissed her deep and slow. He kissed her without holding back, slowly, longingly, exploring the hidden secrets of her open mouth with his tongue, savoring the smoky whiskey and sweet cherry, delicious hints of her signature drink mixed with something else that was decidedly feminine. Decidedly Jane.
A soft moan escaped her and she arched her tightly coiled body toward him, pressing her length against his. Her mouth moved under his, suddenly fierce and demanding, as she clutched at his collar and pushed his jacket from his shoulders. The leather hit the hardwood floor and her hands were back for more, finding the hem of his T-shirt and yanking it over his head. She threw the shirt over his shoulder. Her palms roamed over his naked skin, across his shoulders, down his chest and along his stomach. Her fingers moved to the button of his jeans, but he stopped their progress and held them tight.
Jumping back into bed with Janey after his first date, match, whatever, might prove to her the out-of-control heights of their chemistry, but it wouldn’t prove there was more between them.
More.
Wherever more might take them.
He was the man who’d known her most of her damned life. The man who’d never been able to resist her whiskey voice and her sexy smile, the one that whispered, “I have this great idea but I’m not going to tell you.” Because damn it, he always wanted to know her great ideas. And suddenly, he wanted her to admit that he was more than just a Manhattan-fueled one-off.
Frustrated with himself, and with her, he let go of her hands and eased outside of her circle of temptation. But she reached for him, tugging him back toward her, lifting her mouth. And it was too hard to resist. His lips crashed down on hers and the rest of the world fell away as he dove inside her, kissing her with all the frustration and pent-up desire of six months—hell, more than six months. Forever.
He pushed away the edge of her sexy button-down shirt, once crisp and professional, now a crumpled, twisted invitation, enticing his lips to that spot just behind her left ear, the one he remembered drove her wild. He licked and kissed until she was breathless and panting.
Her fingers dug into his shoulder. “God, your tongue was my favorite part of the Cayman Islands.”
And boom, he was out.
“Christ, Jane.” He pushed her away roughly. The shock on her face kicked him in the solar plexus, but he was not going to let her do that to him again. “I’m not your sexual carousal.”
She blinked at him several times, the last of the dreamy haze disappearing from her expression. “What are you talking about?”
“If all I am to you is some kind of sexual serviceman I’m not going to fall into bed with you again. Hell, I’d probably wake up with a Post-it Note slapped on my forehead.”
“Is that what you think?”
“If the cocktail napkin fits…” He shot her a cold look. “My tongue was your favorite part of the Caymans?”
A sudden irritation flashed in the back of her eyes. “You’re the one who wanted to get all bendy and gymnastic.”
“And you just couldn’t wait to stake prior claim, is that it? Another good go-around with my tongue and then I’m back out in the cold for another six months.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “No thanks, Jane.” He turned and snatched his shirt from the floor.
“No thanks, Jane. No thanks, Jane?” She pinned him with a look that was all kinds of pissed-off. “You’re the one always advocating chemistry, flirting with your damned pajama pants, kissing me on top of a freaking washing machine, but now, it’s…no, thanks, Jane.”
He stormed over to her. “You think that’s everything I mean by chemistry?” He dragged the T-shirt over his head. “That I’m down for a slam-and-send-off? After I’ve had a date. A date that you set up, by the way. With a perfectly nice, perfectly sane woman.”
Her chin angled up, daring him to push it a little further. So, he did.
“Tell me now that a relationship doesn’t need chemistry—the zing, the pheromones, the animal attraction.” His eyes perused her face. “Because we have some incredible chemistry, angel. We could build on that. We could have something real. Hell, yes, we’ve got chemistry to spare, but what is so wrong with that?”
The silence between them grew and he wondered if she’d finally admit that passion mattered. But she gave him nothing. Instead, she stood there, staring at her damn untied shoes, chewing on her gorgeous bottom lip, and screwing up his equilibrium a little bit more.
“Exactly.” He brushed a curl away from her cheek. “Nothing’s wrong with all the passion between us and that’s my point.”
“So, you’ve been kissing me to prove a point about chemistry?”
And like a needle scratching across a vinyl record, everything stopped. “That is not what I said.”
“Because this kind of really hot, sexy zing is just chemistry.” Moving past him, she grabbed his jacket from the floor and threw it square at his chest. He caught the coat in mid-flight. “This kind of chemistry doesn’t add up to anything else.”
“Bullshit.” She opened her mouth to object, but he waved her off. The more she pretended there was nothing between them, the more he wanted to prove she was wrong. “You know this is more than great chemistry, Jane, and you kno
w it doesn’t come along every day.”
“But you know what all this heat isn’t, don’t you, Charlie? It isn’t love, because you don’t believe in real, true, ‘I love you forever’ love, do you?” Her jaw was on lockdown. “Do you?”
“Maybe I don’t,” he said. “Not the kind you seem so sure of.”
A wave of frustration rolled off her, crashing at his feet. “Exactly. And if it’s not real and true, big guy, if it’s not love, then it’s just chemistry, which will eventually die when one of us gets bored, or spots a hot Rum Runner girl, or loses one more bet. You will eventually walk out, and I am not ready to fall, crash, and burn.”
He made a move toward her, but she held up both palms and backed away.
“I am not your dad, Jane.”
Her voice grew quiet. “Don’t you dare toss my father in my face, and insinuate my conclusions about tonight result from some unresolved daddy issues. I have a perfectly well-earned and scientifically-based distrust of chemistry.” Hard tears shimmered in her eyes. “This chemistry between us?” His gaze took in the line of her trembling body. “This is nothing. This means nothing. Because we’re nothing.”
“How can you say that?”
But she stood there, dangerously quiet, refusing to give him even an inch.
He’d had enough.
“Fine.” He pulled his jacket over his shoulders and strode across the hallway. “That’s the way you’re going to play it, then I am so fucking out of here.”
“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass.” She opened it wide and waved him out.
He raked a hand through his dark hair, stalked over to the door and turned back to look at her. “For the record, I wasn’t just trying to prove a point about chemistry.” He gripped the edge of the door. “I was trying to prove a point about us, and you reduced me to a kiss on some island six months ago.”
Anger burned inside him. After all their years of friendship, if she could still reduce their relationship to a chemical addiction, then there was nothing left to say. No matter how much he adored her great laugh and her off-the-rails candy addiction, no matter how strong the pull of past memories on his emotions, there was nothing left to fight about.
Breaking the Bachelor (Entangled Lovestruck) (Smart Cupid) Page 7
