Page 47 of A Little More

She leaned back, searching his eyes. “For what?”

He trailed a finger along the edge of her cheek. “For thinking this would be enough.” He slowed down a moment, his lips exploring a tortuous path from her ear down to her collar bone. “Stay with me.” His deep, raspy voice caused her eyes to roll back in her head. But this wasn’t Atlanta. People would talk. That talk could get back to Julien.

“How would your mom feel about that?”

His chest rumbled with a laugh as his hand slipped, partway underneath the edge of her dress, squeezing her thigh. “I don’t care.” He kissed her again. “I only care about how you feel. How good I can make you feel.”

She nipped at his bottom lip. Why did she cause herself this much suffering? “And feel like that is rushing things. If I stayed with you, I’d end up in your bed.”

“You’d have to,” he murmured against her lips. “There isn’t another bed for you to sleep in.”

She smiled and broke off the kiss. “Then we need to cool it. I don’t usually jump into bed with men.” Even as she said the words, she regretted her lack of spontaneity for once in her life. If there was ever a man to throw that rule out the window, she currently had her legs almost wrapped around his waist.

If he stared at her much longer, with his eyes that matched the blue sky behind him, she’d give in and drive them to his house herself. Desire wasn’t the issue. Fear was.

“I know.” He straightened, releasing the clip from her hair to play with a curl. Geez, she loved it when he did that. “I don’t know if I’ve ever met a woman that drove me beyond reason.”

And she didn’t see how the attraction between them would ever fizzle out. That was her first fear. It wouldn’t, and then what would they be left with? An impossible situation.

“I’ve ruined your clothes,” he mumbled but didn’t stop his hands from gliding along her thighs, adding to a map of mud over her body that displayed everywhere he’d touched.

What would his mom say when she sawthosehandprints?

“I should probably head to Ms. Peggy’s. If I can drive your truck back to your house, I’ll switch cars.”

“I’ll drive you there.”

“You don’t have to—”

He cut her off with another kiss.

It would never get old.

“I might have to let you leave my arms, but I’m not ready to let you out of my sight yet.”

12

Nash sat across from his mom. The silence between them took him back to when he was in tenth grade and got caught by his homecoming date’s dad giving her a kiss that hadn’t come anywhere close to resembling what he’d shared with Lexi. The mantel clock ticked, emphasizing each second he’d been apart from Lexi as she changed clothes.

He’d never shared a kiss like that with any woman.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

The corner of his mom’s lips tilted. “I was thinking of how much you two resembled the cover of my copy ofAshes in the Windwhen I caught you kissing in my living room.”

Nash crossed his arms, ignoring the warm flush of embarrassment crawling up his neck. “Is that one of your romance novels? How so?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“I’m thirty-four.”

“For a man, that’s not old enough.” His mom smiled brightly as the screen door opened. “Dewey, honey, what a nice surprise. Are you working right now?”

Dewey, dressed in his deputy uniform, went straight to Nash’s mother, giving her a warm squeeze, before heading toward the kitchen. “I am, Ms. P. I tried Nash’s cell phone, but he didn’t pick up. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t still stranded in the creek bed.” His voice echoed from the kitchen. “I’d hate to see his pretty Atlanta girl cry over him.” He walked back in, a piece of cold, fried chicken in his hand. “She might…well, hey there.”

“Hi.” Lexi stood in the doorway from the hall, significantly cleaner than when she disappeared fifteen minutes ago. She’d kept her makeup light, her hair was damp, but Nash could only focus on her legs. She wore shorts. Blue jean shorts with the edges a little frayed.

The male version of catnip.

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