Page 42 of Feel Me

She crinkles her nose. “Three to five miles about every other day, and I hate every second of it.”

“Then why do it?” I ask, crossing into the large open living.

“Because I love to eat,” she admits, laughing as she stirs something in a pot. “It’s the only way I can still eat what I want and not need a fire crew to haul me out.”

I chuckle because she’s just that cute, and sexy, and fuck me, I’m in trouble. I force my attention away from how she’s bouncing along in the kitchen and scan her trendy apartment, knowing I need a moment to calm.

A gray sectional accented with navy, chocolate, and green floral throw pillows angles in front of a large flat screen, and a dark brown geometric bookshelf lines the entire right wall.

It’s the bookcase that gives me pause. I grin as I catch sight of what I’m looking for. “Would you like the wine now or with dinner?” she calls out.

I make my way to the bookcase, reaching for the first of?I shit you not?at least thirty smutty paperbacks. “Whatever you want,” I say, turning to the kitchen.

She removes the pie from the bakery box, placing it on the granite counter. “This smells incredible?”

The pie tin smacks against the counter when she sees where I am and what I’m holding. Even from where I stand, I can hear her jaw pop open. “Don’t mind me,” I tell her. “I’m just browsing through all these books you plan to donate to charity.”

She hurries over, stopping abruptly, only to walk the remainder of the way very slowly, her cheeks flaming red.

“Hmm, My Scoundrel, My Lovestorm,” I say, pretending to scrutinize the cover closely. “Isn’t this about global warming and the negative impact on the Scottish Highlands?” I don’t let her respond, replacing that book with another. “Or am I confusing it with Sunshine and Silk Fingers?”

“I know this looks bad,” she begins when I crack up.

“Your vast collection, or the fact that you’ve probably read them at least a dozen times?”

She covers her mouth, giggling before dropping her hand away. “We all have our guilty pleasures.”

“And share of dirty literature?” I swap out the book for another. “Hey. Wasn’t this the same lady who was ‘deflowered’ by that cowboy?” I hold the book out of her reach when she tries to snatch it from my hand. “How the hell did she end up in Tudor England?”

I catch her in my arms when she lunges, linking my arm around her waist.

We’re both laughing, but as our stares lock, our smiles slowly vanish.

I’ve pictured her sweet body pressed against mine more times than I can count. And here I am with her firm breasts within my reach. But my gaze remains on her, searching her eyes for all her secrets and her mouth for the whispers that tell me she want me.

My body temperature rises, filling me with a need I’ve never had use for. This isn’t lust. Lust is too damn easy. This isdifferent. Who am I kidding? Everything I feel for Melissa is different, including the way I want to kiss her . . . and do a hell of a lot more.

My fingers skim down her waist to grip her hip, my muscles aching with how bad I want to keep going and strip her out of these clothes.

Shit. If this ends badly, I’ll just be another asshole who came into her life and mistreated her.

But to end, it first has to begin.

My stare burns into hers, causing her full lips to part and reveal her shock because yeah, it’s that obvious what I want to do to her.

“Declan . . .” she says, barely able to get the words out.

“Don’t say anything,” I tell her. “I just want to kiss you, and I really need you to let me.”

CHAPTER 12

Melissa

I can’t speak.

Or move.

Or breathe.

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