Page 10 of Brewing Up a Bad Boy

Putting her hand on his chest, she looked up.

His eyes were heavy-lidded, and his lips parted. “Poppy.”

Just her name on a low whisper made her shiver, from her core outward. Every instinct she had was muted as desire took over. It had been too long since she’d felt his mouth on hers. Tasted the one kiss that she’d never been able to forget no matter how many other men and women she’d kissed.

Maybe she was remembering it wrong. Maybe one of his changes would be that he was now a sloppy kisser, all saliva and odd noises. Maybe—

His mouth was on hers; his arms pulled her close, and her mind quieted. Her body relaxed into him as if it had been waiting for this. Images of their greatest hits played in her mind as his hand tangled in her hair. He turned so that his back was to the street, and hers was pressed against the jewelry store window.

The glass was cold through her clothes, a contrast to the heat of Ali’s body. His hands were still, but hers weren’t; kneading his chest, trying to get to his skin but not able to through his T-shirt. Until her brain kicked in, and she pulled it up, shoving her hand against his bare skin.

He was all taut muscles with a light dusting of hair. Holding his waist, she pulled him closer as she went up on her tiptoes to deepen the kiss, brushing herself against his erection.

Thatwas a wakeup call.

Sleeping with Ali today wasn’t in her plans. She was supposed to be moving on, not acting as if nothing had happened.

Kissing him hadn’t been in her plans either, but it took her more than a minute to pull back and eventually break the kiss.

Well, darn.

Her blood was racing through her body, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She needed to be sensible, but that dreamer deep inside of her urged her to ignore the warnings. The pain of the truth of her past. That fear of making the same mistake with the same guy again.

Ali turned away, putting his hands on his thighs, breathing deeply before he shoved his hands through his hair. “That was...”

“Yeah.” She didn’t want to dissect it. They’d both stopped, so that told her he wasn’t ready either. “If I go with you to the wedding, we need to keep things platonic.”

“Platonic? Sure we can try, but with that kiss...I’m not sure either of us is going to be able to stick to that,” he said.

“We’re divorced, Alistair. That has to mean something. We tried being a couple, and it didn’t work at all. Let’s not put ourselves through that again,” she said, giving him the honesty that she’d wanted from him a long time ago.

He nodded tightly. “All that is true, but I’m a different person. You are too. If we decided to try this again, I think it would be a new start.”

“Maybe.” The pain of losing her dream of what a romantic relationship was still stung. Still, she wanted to try again... Who wouldn’t on a night like this, with Ali being so charming and hot and everything she’d always craved?

“Where’s your place?” The quiet longing on his face matched a feeling deep in her soul.

“Two blocks behind WiCKed Sisters. I’m good to go alone,” she said.

“I’m not good with that,” he said, looking around the deserted street. “So, WiCKed Sisters...”

“What about it?”

“I might not have the right, but I’m proud of what you’ve achieved. Your tea blends were always something different—special even—and I’m glad to see you being recognized for them,” he said.

He reached for her hand, and she almost withheld it, but it was such a nice moment that she couldn’t.

They didn’t talk as they finished the walk to her place, and as she stood on the threshold looking at her witch’s broom decorated with spring flowers and herbs, she was tempted to invite him in. But she was the one who’d thrownplatonicout there.

Platonic.

Never in his life had he had a platonic woman friend... Well not one he wanted to fuck. This was going to be a challenge.

“So, good night,” Poppy said as she opened the door.

He heard the sound of a dog running to greet her. “Pickle?”

The miniature dachshund was on her back legs, her front ones moving up and down excitedly.

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