Page 81 of Failure to Match

“Sixty-seven matches,” he said, hooded eyes locked on my mouth. “Every single one of them wanted something from me—wealth, status, connections—but none of them wantedme.”

Every time I thought of something to say, the words would melt away before they reached my tongue.

“I could have gotten away with murder on those dates. They would have helped me bury the body in exchange for a ring and no prenup.”

My lips twitched. “You’re so cocky.”

The corners of his pale eyes crinkled a touch. “It’s not just women, either,” he whispered. “Why do you think Molly is so concerned with my lack of friends?”

“I assumed your lack of friends was largely due to your personality,” I teased lightly.

His teeth tugged at his smiling lower lip, and a fresh wave of heat washed over me. “I told you I like it when you’re mean to me. I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose.”

“That’s because your ego truly knows no bounds.”

He was still holding my chin, still caressing it. And I was still letting him.

Why was I still letting him?

My tongue darted out to wet my lips and, again, it immediately drew his attention. This time, his gaze darkened, his smile fading.

I saw the signs. All of them. The glazed look, the slack mouth, the lean-in.

And I still didn’t see it coming.

I still gasped when his lips brushed mine, featherlight. Still blinked in surprise when tiny little sparks traced that exact spot. But I didn’t pull away.

Jackson waited, drawing back just an inch to see if I would bolt. But I stayed rooted on the spot, utterly transfixed. He did it again—the lightest brush of his lips along mine, and when my eyes fluttered shut, he...

Oh.

Oh, whoa.

The first press of his lips was soft, testing. The second pulled a frail whimper from my throat. My hands moved, tracing his biceps as they curled around me. I was pulled flush against him, right before my feet were lifted off the hardwood.

My arms snaked around his neck, every last semicoherent thought in my head melting into shapeless putty when his tongue traced the seam of my lips. Another helpless sound escaped as my lips parted. I clutched onto him tighter, my core clenching as my whole body sparked to life. He tasted like mint and molten sugar, and when I teased his tongue with a shy lick, his chest vibrated with a pleased groan.

I couldn’t breathe. Between the fiery sparks racing through my lungs and Jackson crushing me to him, I couldn’t get enough oxygen. And I couldn’t seem to care.

Was this what kissing was supposed to feel like? Becauseholy shithad I been doing it wron?—

“Oh!”

My eyes flew open.

“Oh, what now, Mabel? Surely you—oh!”

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

My heart stopped beating when the voices registered. I tried pulling back from Jackson, but he wouldn’t budge. Also, my bottom lip was currently wedged between his teeth.

Fuck me.

“Out. Out out out out!” one of the sisters hissed as I wriggled in Jacksons arms. The man was built like a marble fucking statue. He’d lifted me no less than a foot off the ground and was showing exactly zero signs of physical exertion.

“Jackson!” I hissed when his mouth moved to my jaw. I mean, it did make my eyes roll to the back of my head, but only a little… until he licked at that one spot just underneath my earlobe. A piece of my soul died then. “Jackson, we should, um, I need... should stop. There’s… people here.”

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