Page 41 of Driven Daddy

“You were fine. What’s got your heart going again?”

“Nothing.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I call bullshit.”

“Nothing I want to discuss.”

“That I can believe. But if it’s twisting you up, maybe you need to talk about it.”

“You gunning to be my therapist, Mystery Man?”

“Definitely not. A therapist wouldn’t be able to kiss you—if they were ethical, anyway. And I’m not feeling at all ethical at the moment, so let’s get you settled.”

“Not sure I can settle with you touching me.”

His eyebrow spiked. “Is that right?”

“Oddly enough I don’t really want to be settled right now.”

“You’re just working on the endorphins,” he said softly, but his gaze dropped to my mouth again and he drew his teeth over his full lower lip.

It was hidden in the beard.

The beard that looked so soft.

I lifted my other hand to touch his beard. Coarse and soft at the same time. I’d never kissed a man with a full beard. I usually went for clean cut and safe.

I’d had my time of wild.

When I’d first went off on my own, I’d headed down a bad path. Boys—men—who weren’t good for me. Who put me in situations that could have turned out so very bad.

This woodsmoke and matches scent-drenched man reminded me of that. I slipped the tips of my nails through his beard and his chest rose in reaction.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“I know.” I leaned forward and was very grateful for the four-inch heels Ember had convinced me to buy to go with this dress. And still I had to rise up onto the very tips of my toes to get to him.

His mouth was warm and the softness of his beard made me hum lightly. It was gentle at first. Searching lips as we both learned each other’s shape.

His scent heady and overwhelming in the best way.

His hand slid from under my ribs to around my waist, tugging me away from the door to get closer.

Until there was nothing between us but breath and the soft sighs of a truly delicious kiss. The kind that should be under twinkle lights and soft breezes—not dust and cardboard and a nicked steel door.

But I had a very good imagination.

I lightly dipped my nails into the dense dark hair of his beard, the shape of his sharp jaw softened by the hair. When the tip of his tongue teased my lips, I could feel his jaw flexing under my touch.

I rerouted my touch to his curls. The wild chocolate mass of it that I was expecting to be crunchy with product. No one had perfect curls like that without it. But no, they were soft and urged my fingers deeper.

Teasing around my hand and wrist as I lost myself in his taste.

The perfect kind of kiss.

A dance of tongues and lips.

I dragged in a breath through my nose when my body gave the white flag for some oxygen. He chased the needs flaringbetween us until the kiss went from low burn to incendiary. Bolder, he demanded more participation as dark words of want slipped out along my lips between the kisses.

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