Kiss Me

by Kristine Mason

  “Not if you don’t want to. Honestly, I don’t want to subject you to her. She can’t stand me and just to bust my ass, she’ll probably go out of her way to make you uncomfortable.”

  “Honey.” She paused, did she really just use a term of endearment. Yep, she did and for some reason it felt right. “I’m a big girl. If she tries any of her crap with me, I’ll pull out some psychobabble that’ll make her run for cover.”

  Luke laughed. “You have no idea how much I’d love to see that.”

  “Besides,” she began. “I’m not going to impress her. I’m going because I’m anxious to put faces to names, meet Margie and your friend Jay, and to…support you.” She closed her eyes and waited for his response. Had she laid it on too thick? Revealed too much?

  “Baby, you have no idea how much that means to me.”

  She couldn’t help the smile curving her lips athis term of endearment.

  “Although Margie’s great and her account means big things for me, I really wish I could have been with you tonight, instead.”

  Her smile grew. Luke was sweet and knew just the right words.

  So did her ex-idiot boyfriend.

  Not willing to go there, or let her insecurities creep in and ruin the moment, she clutched the phone tighter. “There’s always tomorrow night, if you’re free.”

  “Absolutely, we can go to dinner and —”

  “Nope, you’ve taken me out the past four nights, how about you come over and I’ll cook for you.”

  “Should I be scared?”

  His teasing tone made her laugh. “Look, I’m not saying I’ll cook a gourmet meal, but I can do better than a box of macaroni and cheese. How about it? Dinner at my place, say around sixish? Or do you need to stay late at the office?”

  “Nope, six is good by me. Even if I have some work to wrap up, it can wait until later. I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long time.” He paused for a second, then said, “I missed seeing you today, and I’m going to miss kissing you good night.”

  She missed him too. The words were there, right on the tip of her tongue. But to admit, to utter those words out loud would expose too much. “Then I guess we have some serious making up and making out to do,” she said instead.

  After saying goodnight to Luke, she folded her legs underneath her, and hugged herself.

  Stupid. That’s what she was. A stupid, chicken shit. Why couldn’t she just tell him? Because she’d rathershow him. With that thought, she stood, grabbed the laundry basket, then headed for her bedroom. She had some major planning to do. Tomorrow had to be special. Tomorrow she would reveal how she felt. About him. About them.

  *

  Luke leaned back in the dining room chair. “That had to be the best meal I’ve had in a long time,” he said, his eyes lacking the exuberance his smile offered.

  Best meal, huh? Then why was more than half the lasagna she’d served him still on his plate, his salad and bread left untouched? Damn, he hated her cooking. Then again, she hadn’t eaten much either. Between Luke’s tightlipped, withdrawn attitude and the nervousness rolling though her stomach, she’d lost her appetite.

  Disgusted with how horrible the evening had progressed, Jenna dropped her napkin on the table. “Thanks,” she said and reached for the wine glass. “Care for some dessert?”

  He darted his narrowed gaze to the top of her head. Again. From the moment he’d walked through the door, he’d repeatedly stared at her hair. Maybe he didn’t like all the thick curls she’d spent forty minutes perfecting. Normally, she left her hair straight or in a ponytail. But tonight, she’d wanted to glam herself up for him. She’d spent hours in front of the mirror, poofing and teasing her hair. Applied more make-up than she’d normally wear, and selected the raciest, sexiest outfit she could find. All of the primping part of her lame-brained plan of seduction.

  “No thanks. I’m stuffed.” He drifted his eyes to her head again. “You, ah, look…different tonight. The hair, right?” He reached for his glass. “It looks…nice,” he added, then chugged his wine.

  Nice? Damn it, he hated her hair too.

  “Thanks,” she said, then drained her own wine glass.

  Thanks, the weather, and small talk about nothing had been all either of them could manage tonight. On top of that, everything that came out of his mouth appearedforced. Every look he gave her seemed wary, cautious, suspicious.

  Silence hung between them for a moment. Fed up over the way he kept scrutinizing her hair, and tired of his piss-poor attitude, she refilled her glass, then offered him the bottle.

  He glanced at his watch, then waved his hand in front of his empty glass. “I better not. It’s getting late and I still have some work to do when I go home.”

  It couldn’t be more than eight thirty. What the hell was wrong with him tonight?

  She panicked. Her already knotted stomach, twisted even more. He couldn’t leave. Not yet. She’d finally worked up the nerve to reveal her feelings for him. While she wasn’t ready to tell him how much she cared, she was more than ready, willing and able to show him.

  “Sure, I understand,” she said, and decided to put her back up plan into action. Or should she wait until he was in a better mood? Then again, what she had in store for him might help take care of whatever bothered him. Work, she assumed. While she didn’t appreciate catching the brunt of a bad day, she also knew he was under a lot of pressure, and she’d love nothing more than to ease that pressure.

  “Before you go, would you mind taking a look at that broken curtain rod I told you about?” This morning, when she’d opened her drapes, the dumb thing broke out of the wall. She’d taken a couple tips from MacGyver — duct tape was an amazing tool in a pinch — and had secured it back in place.

  “Lucinda can’t seem to stop her cats from escaping, so I’ve jerry-rigged it in case she flips on her porch lights during the middle of the night.” She batted her lashes, going for fun and flirty. But a clump of mascara dropped into her left eye. Crap, too many years out of practice and she’d lost the ability to flirt. “I think it will hold,” she continued with renewed determination, and blinked the irritation away. “But I’d hate to have the thing come crashing down during the middle of the night.”

  He cracked a smile, one of only a few he’d offered her all night, and stared at her left eye. “I don’t blame you. With the wattage your neighbor has, she could wake the dead.” Shoving his chair back, he gripped the handles, then paused. “Are you okay?”

  Swiping a finger under her watery eye, she smiled and hoped her nose wouldn’t start running. “I’m fine. Why?”

  He stood and shook his head. “Nothing. I’m sure the rod will be a simple fix, and I’ll take care of it tomorrow, before we head to the comedy club.”

  Relief settled through her jumpy stomach as she led him to her bedroom. After the way he’d been acting, she’d worried he’d either forgotten or didn’t want to keep their date.

  As he trailed behind, she gave her hips a little extra sway, hoping her short denim skirt would draw his attention to her butt and legs. Too busy concentrating on the sex appeal stuff, she misjudged her footing. Her four inch heel caught on the runner in the hallway. She tripped and stumbled, flailed her arms. As she nose-dived toward the floor, a strong arm latched around her waist.

  Luke held her back against his chest. His cologne drifted around her. She drew in a deep breath to help calm her racing heart, while her inner thighs grew moist and heavy with need.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his beard stubble tickling her cheek and sending goose bumps along her skin.

  “Mmm-hmm,” she hummed. Buzzed on the crazy emotions bursting through her heart, she melted against his chest, thenwriggled her hips.

  His entire body tensed. “Right…I mean good.” He released her and cleared his throat. “Let’s see the damage.” Acting as if she was infected with scurvies, he moved around her, bumped the wall and the few pictures hanging in the narrow hallway, then hurried into the bedroo
m.

  She shoved her jaw forward and pursed her lips. Luke’s mood hadnothing to do with work. For some reason, he was running from her. Maybe she’d gone overboard with all the added make-up, the big hair, and the sexy clothes. But it didn’t matter, she smiled. She had Luke exactly where she’d wanted him.

  In her bedroom.

  After straightening the pictures, she moseyed through the door. She had to dig deep to maintain her confidence, though. Luke’s rigid posture, the way he narrowed his eyes with suspicion as he watched her, had her second guessing what she was about to do, what had to be done.

  Seduction, plain and simple.

  Once she had Luke in her bed, once they’d had sex, she’d know then and there if this, what she felt for him, was the real deal. She’d had sex with so many guys, she’d know the difference. Most of those men had been out for a simple lay. But there had been a few that had wanted more. A few nice guys who had actually wanted a relationship with her. Only she hadn’t. Positive a commitment to any of them would have led to disaster and heartache, after sex she’d scrambled to find her clothes, then ran for the door.

  Would the same thing happen with Luke? She didn’t think so, considering they were in her house. But would he run for the door? After all, until recently, he was just as much of a commitment-phobe.

  She stopped short and nearly stumbled again as her heels snagged the thick carpet.

  Holy crap. She was a commitment-phobe.

  How could she have not seen this before? Sure, she’d come up with the Cognitive Dissonance comparison last night, but she hadn’t really thought about herself as someone who purposefully avoided relationships. And she was a psychologist?

  “Are you okay?” Luke asked, sliding his narrowed gaze to her black tube top — which she knew made her boobs look downright huge — past her denim skirt and all the way to the red heels a klutz had no business wearing.

  She flipped a thick curl off her bare shoulder, ignored the way he’d blatantly scrutinized her, and manufactured a smile. “I’m fine, why?”

  He shrugged, then turned toward the window. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about this rod coming down anytime soon. How many rolls of duct tape did you use?” He glanced over his shoulder and sent her a grin. “I think it’ll take me longer to remove the tape than it will to fix the curtain rod.” His smile quickly disappeared, only to be replaced with the wary mask he’d worn all night. “I’ll have to pluck and tug it slowly to avoid damaging the plaster walls, but I’m a patient guy,” he said and gave her a quick onceover before meeting her eyes. “There’s no point in rushing things when you know it’ll only cause damage.”

  Her cheeks grew warm, embarrassed by the duct tape overkill, but mostly because she sensed he was using the wall and duct tape as a metaphor. As if he’d read her mind and knew her plan. “Well,” she began, moving closer to him. “I worried the thing would fall again.” She took a few more steps, until she stood between him and the wall. “So, I layered the tape on thick because even if a few pieces loosened, and a few of those layers gave way, I’d feel secure knowing there was extra adhesive to keep it together.” Meeting his gaze, she moved her trembling hands to his chest, hoping he’d catch her meaning.

  Luke stepped back, then swiveled toward the other bedroom window. “Who put these curtain rods up for you?”

  Fingers curling with frustration, she dropped her hands to her sides. “I did, why?”

  He motioned toward the MacGyvered curtain rod. “If this one fell, the other eventually will, too. While I’m at it, I might as well take care of them both.”

  She stepped toward him, until she stood inches from his broad back. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  He flinched and turned. They were toe-to-toe again. Just the way she’d planned. Only she hadn’t planned on the scowl he wore.

  “I wouldn’t have offered,” he said, his tone flat.

  Her hands shook as she danced her fingers along his chest, and she couldn’t understand why. She’d been with more men than she cared to remember. Seducing a guy was nothing new. Sure, it had been a few years. But enticing a man into her bed should be like riding a bike. Nothing to think about, you just got on and rode.

  Maybe this is more than a ride, the psychologist in her countered. She shut that voice up. In the past, it had never helped her where her own emotions had been concerned. Instead, she drifted her hand up his chest, until she grazed her palm along his bristly jaw. “Then I’ll have to make it up to you.” Even in four inch heels, she had to rise to her tip-toes to brush her lips against his.

  “You don’t owe me anything. You cooked me dinner tonight. Remember?”

  She feathered her fingers through his thick hair. “Cooking you dinner was my way of thanking you for all the times you’d taken me out. Now I want to show you my appreciation for being my handy man. Maybe with a kiss?” she asked, then planted her lips against his.

  He didn’t move. Didn’t budge or return the kiss. Instead, his body became more rigid, and his lips stiffer.

  She’d coax him though, she knew he wanted her by the way his eyes had darkened with raw desire, and by the way his muscles bunch as if he fought for control. She also knew he wanted to stand firm by his no-sex rule until he could prove he could be in a committed relationship.

  She’d commit to him. While she couldn’t quite name the strange heart twisting, belly coiling effect she experienced every time he was near, every time she thought about him, something deep in her soul suggested more than lust, and definitely more than like. Something incomprehensible and something she couldn’t ignore. No man had ever made her feel this way. To want to dive head first into murky waters without knowing what lay beneath.

  With determination, she scattered soft, coaxing kisses along his firm mouth. When he didn’t respond, she tugged his lower lip with her teeth.

  He speared his fingers through her hair, gripped her head and tore his mouth away. He stared at her. Anguish creased his forehead, while lust darkened his eyes.

  She moved her head, but he tightened his fingers and held her still. “Just a kiss. That’s all this is,” she said, even if, in her heart, she knew this was more than that.

  “Jenna, baby, I think —”

  “Don’t,” she urged, and nudged her nose against his.

  He hesitated for a moment, stared at her lips, at her eyes, then smashed his mouth against hers. Gasping at the sudden, erotic onslaught, she clung to his broad shoulders. Shoved her fingers through his hair and held him in place. Loving the velvety feel of his tongue, the way he took possession of her mouth with a hungry, demanding kiss.

  Her inner thighs grew impossibly wetter. Caught up in the moment, caught up in proving…showing, him how much he meant to her, she ran her hands down his chest, passed his belt buckle, until she reached his thick arousal.

  She moaned against his mouth. Even beneath a pair of pressed khaki’s he felt good against her palm. She tested the length, ran her fingers from the tip to the base, cupped his testicles and groaned her approval. The man had no problems in this department, and she couldn’t wait to have him naked and filling her. Before she did though, she needed to taste him. Feel him between her lips, watch the ecstasy cross his face as she pumped him into her mouth.

  She grew bolder when he moaned his own approval, and deepened their kiss with such raw passion, her head spun and her body trembled. Ached with a need so forceful, so powerful, it both scared and exhilarated her.

  Never in her life had she needed someone. Never in her life had she met a man who could break past her barriers. Never had she met a man she could trust with her mind, body and soul.

  As the revelation slammed into her, she moved her hand up his arousal until she reached his belt. She had to show him.

  Now.

  She quickly undid the buckle, slipped the button of his khaki’s free, then unzipped his pants. Before he could protest, she dropped to her knees, taking his boxer briefs down a few inches with her. The nak
ed head of his penis rested against his shirt, while the remainder of his hard length pulsed beneath the snug, cotton boxer’s. She looked up, needing to see the look on his face when she touched him, kissed him. Needing to know he wanted this — her — as much as she did.

  Naked desire clouded his eyes, while tension corded the muscles along his neck. He pressed his lips together, his expression taut, tormented.

  Renewed confidence and power coursed through her as she realized Luke fought for control. He wanted her, despite whatever had bothered him tonight, and despite his no-sex, kissing-only policy.

  Trailing her fingers up his thighs, she reached the hem of his shirt. The material bunched and sagged over her hands as she swayed forward and ran her palms over his flat abs. His stomach tightened and his erection twitched when she released a deep, purposeful sigh aimed at the tip of his penis. With a small smile, she bent her head. As she brushed her lips against his arousal, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

  She kept her mouth against the velvety, smooth skin, not willing to allow his conscience, his chivalrous principles, to ruin this moment. “Just a kiss,” she said, then pressed soft, wet, open-mouthed kisses over the tip, while lightly raking her nails along his torso.

  “Jenna,” he warned, his voice hoarse, gruff, even as his body shuddered with the caress of her lips and the stroke of her nails.

  Focusing on his pleasure, she tuned out his cautionary tone. Bent her head and sucked. He’d forget about his rules once she gave him a taste of what they could have together. Once she gave him a part of herself…

  With that thought in mind, she cupped his testicles, and rubbed her thumb along the base of his erection. Ran her tongue over the snug briefs where his arousal pulsed, then used her teeth to gently nip and tug at the cotton.

  When he spiked his fingers through her hair and arched his back with a low groan, she slipped her fingers beneath the waistband and tugged. Not enough to bare every hot, hard inch of him, but enough that the majority stared her in the face.