Page 83 of The Best of Us

I spun away from him before I did something too soon, too fast. Like throw myself into his arms—not for a hug, but for a kiss. I looked around for a second glass but didn’t see any.

“You won’t find another.” He reached out and set his free hand on the bar top, and I stared down at his firm, masculine forearm. “I never let anyone in my office. No one drinks with me here.” His voice was ridiculously husky and sexy, and the intensity of it further increased my already racing pulse. “So, only one glass is needed.”

“Oh.” I swallowed. “Well, lucky for me, you have a kitchen down the hall, and I bet it’s full of glasses.” Unable to stop myself, I turned to face him and set both hands on his chest.

His gaze slanted to my touch as he casually brought the tumbler to his mouth for another drink.

“Will you lock me out if I leave and not let me back in?”

“Only one way to find out.” A devilish grin crossed his lips.

“Hmm.” I let my shoulders fall with dramatic emphasis. “I don’t think I’ll risk it, then.”

“Smart choice.” He finished his drink but didn’t set the glass aside.

“Yeah, well, I’m not ready to find out how controlling you really are.” I was only partially teasing.

He pushed away from the counter to free up more space between us and rested his glass against his outer thigh.

“Anyway.” One word couldn’t possibly extinguish the heat and tension baking between us, but I gave it a shot before I gave in to my desires.

He closed his eyes and took another step back as if realizing we were about to skip beyond basics to the next chapter. I was ready for that to happen, to seek comfort from him in a way I knew I shouldn’t, not after the day we’d had. Not for a lot of reasons, actually.

“Are you okay?” I changed gears, asking him something I’d planned to do when he opened the door, but he’d distracted me with his questions.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m a lot of things.”

“Maybe start with one and go from there?”

“Confused. Worried.” He opened his eyes, frowning. “Scared,” he added tersely.

He eliminated the space as fast as he’d created it, and it took all my restraint not to touch him. He did it when I couldn’t, lifting his hand and tangling my hair around his fingers.

“Happy,” he murmured a quiet moment later. “Am I allowed to feel that, too? Because I do.”

Bye-bye, basics, and hello to something else yet again. Like my heart pounding up into my ears.

“You’re definitely allowed to feel happy,” I said with a shaky voice.

“And desire? How about that?” The deep bass of his tone had my stomach fluttering and sent goose bumps skittering across my skin.

“Yes,” I breathed out. “You can feel that, too. I know I do.”Among other things.

He set aside his empty glass, and I backed up against the counter, my palms landing on each side of me as he stared at me like he was about to ravish me.

Is this really happening?

He gently tucked my hair behind my ears, staring deep into my eyes. The hint of my father’s sweet-smelling bourbon on his breath passed between us as he bent his head, bringing his face to the side of my neck. A light groan fell from his mouth, and he mumbled something in what I assumed was Italian.

He brought a hand to my chin, further angling my head to gain access to the sensitive part of my neck near my ear. The moment I felt his lips on my flesh, I bucked forward, rolling my hips.

His free hand shot to my waist in a possessive grip before he brought his body tight to mine, letting me feel his hard length, forcing me to stifle a moan.

He grazed my earlobe with his teeth, and I grabbed hold of his biceps and squeezed as he kissed my neck again.

I arched into him, growing dizzy and lightheaded, waiting for him to work his lips from my neck to my jaw, and hopefully to my mouth.

“Does this feel like obligation to you? Does this feel like I’d be with you because of honor and not because Iwantto be with you?” His Italian accent curled around his words even more than normal.

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