Page 34 of Waiting for Tuesday

“I like it.” His voice was soft, deep, textured—so close—and made me forget what I was going to say.

I stared at his chest, just inches from my face. “Like what?”

“The tile.”

“Yeah, it’s nice, isn’t it?”

He didn’t speak, he didn’t move, and I finally built up the nerve to look up again. “I’m sorry?”

But he shook his head, stopping my words. “We all have our shit, Tuesday. You don’t have to explain yours to me.”

My throat went dry, and I swallowed to clear it. The understanding in his voice was almost my undoing. “Even so,”—I looked down—“I’m sure you weren’t asking for my life story.”

“What makes you say that?”

I looked up again, finding he watched me, his expression so serious it made my breath quicken.

“I liked hearing about your life. It actually cleared up a few things.”

I furrowed my brow. “Like what?”

He lifted the strand of feathers in my hair and rubbed them between his calloused fingers. “Like these.”

I backed away, my breath coming harder, faster, but my eyes betrayed me and came to rest on his mouth. “They’re supposed to keep me calm,” I whispered. “But they aren’t working. They haven’t been working for weeks…”

He stepped closer, his hand resting on the wall of the display behind me.

I looked up into his eyes. Eyes that were so deep I could see my own reflection. “What are you doing?”

His body leaned toward me, his breath lingering a little too close. “Something I shouldn't.”

My throat hitched, and I knew I should step away, but his mouth, his beautiful mouth settled on mine. Firm, like the pressure to an open wound. A wound I didn’t even know was bleeding. But in an instant, his lips, warm and seductive, soothed a part of me.

All evidence of thought left me as I stood there. His arms caged me in on either side of my body, his chest so close I could feel his heat, but our lips the only things touching. I wanted to grab hold of his t-shirt and pull him closer, to lose myself completely in this intoxicating man. Then his tongue, whisper soft, brushed across my lips. Sexy, inviting, and completely irresistible. My whole being surrendered to his request. My mouth, body, even my throat let out a soft groan of submission. All I could do was focus on the taste of him. The smell of him. More enticing and erotic than the most potent pheromone. I didn’t care that we were in the middle of the aisle, or that someone could walk by at any moment. I was wanton with my desires, and couldn’t care less what people thought of me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and lifted up on my toes. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could feel it, but I didn’t care. I’d wanted his lips from the moment I met him, had dreams about them, yet their reality was so much sweeter.

My hands traveled to the back of his head, to the baby soft skin of his jaw, and I held his face between my hands. This man, a man I had no reason to care about, was seducing the panties right off me in the middle of the hardware store. And he hadn’t even tried to touch me.

I moved closer, wanting to press my body against his, but his hands came up between us, holding me back. His lips pulled from mine and his head fell back to his shoulders. “Fuck!”

I stilled, my heart running harder and faster than it had in a long time, and I turned away. “That shouldn’t have happened. This can never happen again.” My words were soft, staggered between gasps of air. I took a couple of steps, needed to put some distance between us, needed some time to clear my head so I could think.

“Tuesday, I didn’t mean?”

“Don’t.” I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want excuses, I didn’t want to hear that he was sorry. All I wanted was to pick some tile and get the hell out of there.

I turned toward the white distressed wood where he’d kissed me. A kiss that put every other kiss in my life to shame. A kiss that I would remember the rest of my life. I lifted my chin toward the display before I turned around. “I want that one,” I whispered, then wrapped my arms around my waist, and turned to leave. “I’ll go wait in the truck.”

* * *

Isatin front of my pickup, fingers running over my mouth where the memory of his kiss still lingered. It had been five whole minutes since our lips parted, yet I was more turned on than ever. His kiss was perfect. His mouth demanding, rough, passionate, yet soft and coaxing at the same time.

I didn’t know what I would have done had he not pulled away. I was lost, almost certain I would have let him take me on the concrete slab of the warehouse floor. But his mouth, his tongue, they moved with mine, giving me what I needed, exactly where I needed them. A piece of me wished he would come out here and kiss me again. I pressed my head against the upholstery of the seat. Why did he have to work for me? Why did he have to kiss so damned good?

The passenger door opened, and I instantly straightened, barely glancing over to ensure it was John before twisting the key in the ignition to start my truck.

“Where’s the flooring?” I asked, keeping my eyes fixed on the steering wheel.

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