Page 62 of Secondhand Smoke

“Thank you,” she said again. “I have no idea how I would have gotten her home.”

“You’d have figured it out.” He turned toward her. “You’re good at everything you set out to do. Probably even dragging kids outta parties.”

She felt a blush rise in her cheeks. “Do you have to flatter me every time I say thank you?”

“I’m not flattering.”

“No?”

“I’m flirting.”

“I think you’ve lost your touch.”

“Nah.” Another of those blinding grins. “You’re just fighting me is all.”

“With good reason.”

“I don’t wanna have that argument again.”

She got to her feet, albeit reluctantly. “Then I guess this is goodnight.”

His chair was closer to the door, and she had to sidle past him to get to –

Something hard locked around her forearm, and she tumbled down off her feet, was yanked to the side and…

Into Aidan’s lap.

She landed with an unladylike gasp of surprise, both legs hooked over the flimsy plastic arm of the chair, a hand braced automatically on his chest for balance. She was made instantly aware of the precise area of his anatomy beneath her backside, and her blush was instant, burning her entire face.

“Whatare you doing?” she asked, unable to contain her surprise.

“Exactly what it looks like,” he said with a low, dark laugh.

The chair flexed beneath their combined weights.

“This thing won’t hold both of us,” she warned, and the breathless quality of her voice had nothing to do with the prospect of the chair breaking.

“Betcha fifty bucks it will,” Aidan retorted.

She didn’t have a chance to accept or decline that bet, because one of his hands curled around the back of her neck and the other took a solid hold on her hip. He brought her face down, and she knew, had she really wanted to, she could have shaken his hold.

But that was the thing. If shewantedto.

She drew in a deep breath, told her body to soften, and allowed herself to fall into the kiss.

And damn, was it ever a kiss. Part Christmas morning, part Fourth of July fireworks, part rich red wine that went straight to her head. He was good at this. He’d had a lot of practice.

She stilled when that thought passed through her mind. She imagined all his experience, the countless women who’d been in his lap, just as she was now.

He felt her hesitancy, and his hand slid up her waist, squeezed her through her sweater. His tongue flicked into her mouth.Just let it go, he said silently.Whatever it is, let go of it.

That sounded like an excellent idea.

She eased her jaw, as his tongue pressed deeper, and he invaded her mouth. A slow, almost careful invasion, like he was afraid she’d spook, and like he was determined to use each and every subtle stroke of his lips to calm her racing thoughts…and then obliterate them entirely.

It felt like an hour before she finally pulled back, lips throbbing, head swirling as if she were drunk. She realized she’d let all her weight rest against him, and had knotted her fists in the front of his hoodie, his heart murmuring beneath her knuckles.

The angles of his face were harsh, but his eyes were wide and soft. Desire. That’s what it was radiating off every inch of him. He wanted her.

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