Page 22 of That Kiss

“Good,” I sigh, my shoulders relaxing for what feels like the first time today. “I’ve only called my dad in tears twice, so I’d say it’s going pretty well.” We both laugh. “But it really is going well. I mean, still a learning curve with my schedule and all.” I reach for a cracker then fiddle with it between my fingers. “I think the reality of it is, though, that I don’t think it’s something I’d be able to do long term.”

“What do you mean?” He scrunches his brow. “Like maybe you won’t stay here long term?”

“No, just that I can’t imagine doing this and trying to be a mom.”

“You’d have a partner—a husband, who I hope would help you out so you wouldn’t be doing it all alone.”

“True.” My eyes avoid his, and suddenly I feel vulnerable having this conversation. “Or I could hire someone to do the day-to-day stuff, like a general manager, while I come in only twice a week. But then I wouldn’t want to disappoint my dad or?—”

“Hey.” Decker shoots his hand across the table to grab mine. My eyes fall to where he’s slowly dragging his thumb back and forth across my skin. “You’re getting way ahead of yourself. Just relax and focus on what you’re doing right now.”

“You’re right.” I blush, a little embarrassed at how much I shared. I glance at the clock, not wanting him to leave yet, but I’m approaching the unable-to-ignore-my-rumbling-stomach point. “Hey, you brought over two steaks. Why don’t you throw them on the grill, and I can make a side salad?” My heart thuds against my ribs as he contemplates my offer. He glances at the clock and I fully expect him to politely refuse, but his hand drops to his stomach.

“I think that sounds like a good idea. Gas? Charcoal?” He stands and pushes his chair in before walking to the back door.

“Charcoal. Bag should be next to the grill. I’ll season the steaks and start on the salad.”

He gives me a wink that makes my heart flutter, then shuts the door behind him. I try to remain calm, focusing solely on pulling the steaks and veggies from the fridge. I take my time seasoning and tenderizing the meat before plating it to take outside to Deck. I pause, reaching into the fridge to grab him a fresh beer.

“Is it ready?” I hand him the beer, placing the steaks on the counter next to the grill.

“A few more minutes,” he says, eyeing the beer in his hand. “Damn, bringing me steaks and beer?” He takes a long swig. “I could get used to this.”

“Is the bar really that low?” My eyebrow lifts questioningly. “That beer and meat are what it takes to make you consider commitment?” I add the last part as a joke.

His lips curl into a seductive grin as his thick fingers grip the bottle. “The meat and beer were just the cherries on top of last night’s delicious fucking sundae. That’s what I could get used to.” He winks before bringing the beer to his lips.

My mouth goes dry, my knees feel weak, and my face probably says it all. I can sense heat creeping up my neck so fast that even if I turned around now, he’d still see it. I open my mouth to say something—anything—but instead, I just picture last night, looking down and seeing his mouth and tongue doing things to me that no other man has done. Things that made me lose complete control of my body and surrender to his touch.

“Hmm,” he smirks at me, his hand coming up to gently rest beneath my chin, “cat got your tongue, darlin’?” Before I can answer, he swipes his thumb across my bottom lip. “Why don’t you go back inside, focus on that salad, and I’ll take care of the steaks?”

I don’t respond. I just nod as I turn and walk back inside the house on shaking legs.

Chapter 11

Decker

Ichug the beer the second she’s back inside, wishing like hell I had another one. I don’t have a plan for all this. Hell, I’m still trying to talk myself out of whatever the fuck it is I think I’m doing.

She knows why I came by tonight. It wasn’t for round two; it was because I had prepared a whole speech I was going to say to her on her doorstep. I told myself I wouldn’t even go inside, because I knew I’d be fucked if I did. But the second I saw her, that speech slipped right out of my mind.

I don’t want this to end yet. I know it’s stupid and risky on both our parts, but now that I’ve tasted her, I can’t force myself to walk away . . . yet.

When the steaks are done, I step back into the house. The sound of distant music plays softly and the lights are dimmed to a more ambient glow. The table is set, a vibrant salad at both of our seats, along with wine glasses. I put the plate on the counter and turn just as Juniper walks back into the kitchen.

“Switching to wine okay?” she asks as she rounds the corner, holding up a bottle of red. “I picked it up from Amelia about a month ago and I’ve been wanting to open it.”

“Did you . . . change?” I cock my head to the side, noticing she’s no longer in her fuzzy socks and oversized T-shirt, but now wearing a simple long-sleeved black shirt and pants, both of which cling to her body.

“Yeah,” she shrugs as she pours the wine, “felt silly being in my pajamas while you’re dressed in regular clothes. Especially while eating dinner.”

She leans across the table to pour the wine into the other glass, her ass lifting a touch into the air. I follow the curve of her back—the way it dips then rounds into her hips. The black material of her pants is shiny and taut, creeping between her cheeks. I can’t stop myself. I reach my hand out, dragging it up her inner thigh and up over her ass, grabbing a healthy handful.

“I’m sorry,” I say just as quickly as I pull my hand away from her. I slowly lift my gaze to see her staring back at me over her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No,” she says calmly before standing up and placing the bottle on the table, “you shouldn’t have.” There’s a tension in her voice, an almost lilting seductive tone. “Is that why you came by tonight?”

“No!” I say the word defensively, although I don’t know why. For a second, with the way she was looking at me, it felt like she was hoping that’s exactly why I’d stopped by. “Did you want that to be the reason?”

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