Page 50 of Takes Two to Tango

He narrowed his eyes. "Is that an invitation to your lingerie or your bed?"

"Well, I know you like to go thought women's underwear."

He rolled his eyes. "Real funny. Shoulda been a comedian. Especially since that stuff you're cooking smells like it's burning."

Rayne squealed and hotfooted it toward the stove. She jerked the saucepan from the burner and clicked the flame off. "Shit."

"Such an ugly word from such a pretty mouth," he said, moving to peer over her shoulder at a purple-and-black lumpy... something. “I’m assuming that’s the compote?”

“Yes, and I think you just muttered a mom-ism.” She smiled and took a scraper to rake the ruined fruit into the trash bin. "What a waste."

He took the pan from her and set it in the sink. Filled it with water. "I wouldn't call it a waste at all."

He tugged her back to him and nibbled her lower lip. "I wouldn't mind seeing if we could burn something else." He dropped several little kisses on her lips.

"I never burn stuff." There was almost a purr to her voice. He could feel her warming up to him again as her nipples brushed the front of his T-shirt. He slid his hands to where her gown clung to her backside. He pulled the fabric away so he could feel her skin. Her sweet bottom filled his hands and made her gasp. He caught that gasp with his mouth.

She opened to him, welcoming the stoking of the embers. He moved his hips sliding his erection against her lower belly. Rayne ground back against him, taking him once again on a journey of pleasure.

But he wasn't ready to go there fully. Not unless she chose to take intentional steps, without his hands on her bottom, his mouth against her sweet lips. She had to choose clear-headed, knowing what she was committing to.

He broke the kiss.

Rayne’s eyes flew open."Why'd you stop?"

He caught one of her curls. "Because you asked for a clear direction, a plan, a label. And so far we've established friendship. Well, the kind of friendship where we dance. And kiss. But do you want more?”

Her mouth was still open, glistening and beckoning. Her breasts moved up and down, nipples brushing the placket of the gown, so very visible, so very tempting. Not to mention, her ass felt like it had been made for his hands. For a moment, Brent wondered if he was the biggest idiot in Howard County.

“I have to decide right now?” she asked a frown marring her pretty face. “What about you? Don’t you have a say so?”

He didn't know whether to be offended or flattered. Well, it's pretty obvious I want you, Rayne."

Her gaze moved to his crotch, and it felt like a caress. His body tightened. His erection pulsed. So he tried to think about the hair in his third grade teacher's nose. Mrs. Gryder had displayed a veritable broom from each nostril. And LennyHolden. He'd wiped boogers under his desk. And only yesterday Apple had rolled on a dead toad.

Better.

Rayne crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn't defensive, and, thank heavens, it covered her breasts from his hungry gaze. “You're right. Friends don't really kiss like we just did, so we need to evaluate-"

"No." He shook his head. “Idon’t have to evaluate. I know I want you. I want all of you. But the timing has to be right. And I don’t want to rationalize every feeling I have. Don’t need to examine every emotion, every desire. I’ve always believed more people should listen to their bodies, their hearts, their natural rhythm. It can’t be just about what you come up with in here-“ he tapped her temple, “but also what you feel here.”

He jabbed a finger in her belly.

“Lower,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

“I meant your gut. Those instincts.”

“I know,” she said, stepping back. “You’re suggesting I trust my instincts. Those are tougher to trust. I'm not good with mucking through."

"You used to be good at mucking through. At listening to what your gut said."

She frowned."Listening to my gut or heart or whatever didn't get me very far last time. It got me hurt."

Brent didn't miss that she was referring to him. To his indifference to her the night she'd stepped to the mike to read the poem she'd written for him. That reminder hurt. But he couldn't change the past. He wanted to move forward. "You're hurt anyway. Your husband died, your son is struggling. And what about you, sugar? Where are you right now? Planning didn’t get you out of hurt, didn’t bring you a smooth path to skip down.”

She pressed her lips together and he knew he’d hit a nerve But then he saw her rally, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders. "I'm where I choose to be. And I won’t be bullied into believing that being analytical and making choices based on what is good for me and my child is wrong. I have instincts and use them, but I also have a head that works. Both can determine where I go from here.”

He gave her a peck on the cheek. "If you say so... friend."

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