Page 24 of Catch and Release Groom

“Sorry.” He shook his head a little dazedly, and had she truly managed to catch him off guard? Or was that judgment? Trepidation? “The phrase ‘Cupid’s twisted wet dream’ is still ringing in my ears.”

“Oh. So, um, anything else you’d like to remark on?”

His thumb and index finger went to his chin in a spot-on replica of the thinking emoji. If, you know, the obnoxiously yellow face was hot enough to incite a panty-melting riot. “Nope.”

“Forget it.” Up and out of the boat with the aid of a nearby post, she ignored the stretch in her inner thighs as she heaved herself onto the dock. Tears stung her eyes, and so they wouldn’t spill and expose her, she gave a resolute stomp. “Later, Gator.”

As she started away from Lake Coosa and the intoxicating pull of creative energy, Imogen felt the profound loss of sitting at the potter’s wheel, inspiration flowing as freely as the waterfalls she no longer would get to see, clay taking shape against her palms.

Damn it—anddamn him—she was about to lose the battle not to cry.

It was a war she’d been waging since calling off her wedding, and she refused to break now and lose what little she had left of her pride.

There’d be no crying, and there’d be no begging.

Not for a man she’d met freaking yesterday.

Chapter Ten

It was everything he’d wanted.

Claimed to want, anyway.

Imogen was headed in the opposite direction, storming off with enough haste he’d likely get a firehose blast of anger if he dared interrupt.

Reason enough not to, regardless of the disappointment that’d filled her expression or how heavy the guilt lining his gut. Imogen Kaplan was a distraction he couldn’t afford. Pieces were finally falling into place so he could transition into his dream career, and life so rarely handed out second shots.

But out shot his arm anyway, fingers grasping the empty air Imogen had occupied a moment ago. He stretched the extra inch and snagged hold of her wrist, uttering a “hold up” as he towed her back to him, steady and slow, the way he’d do out on the river with a skittish fish.

Once he’d reeled her close enough, he gently spun her around to face him. She pirouetted into the embrace so easily, too, a busty ballerina already familiar with the steps.

A gasp escaped her plump, red lips, luring him close enough to inhale her exhale, and suddenly he was wondering who was fishing for whom.

“Look, I—”

“No, you look,” she said, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Do you think it was easy for me to ask for help? Because it wasn’t, and you made it harder on purpose.”

His temper flared right alongside hers, regardless of being guilty as charged. “Afraid that’s just part of my natural charm, which is why you’d have a better time with someone else.”

“Thereisn’tanyone else. Yeah, it’d be nice to set sail with someone who actually likes being around me, but—” Her voice cracked, but it was the sniff at the end that completely did him in.

“I never said I didn’t like being around you.” It’d slipped without his permission, the revelation that’d caused him to dig in his heels harder last night when his friends were pushing him to ask Imogen to the wedding.

Ever so slowly, she lifted her face to his, a questioning scrunch marring her brow. “Wait.Do you?”

His huff of laughter stirred the strands of hair near her temples, and he cupped her cheek, his need to soothe any hurt he’d caused overtaking his common sense.

But with his palm against her soft skin, he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

Nope, he went and dug his grave deeper by sweeping his thumb across the pink tinging her cheek.

Their gazes met and held, tossing tinder on the fire. Then Imogen’s tongue darted out to wet her upper lip, and he charged, headfirst.

Eradicating the infinitesimal space between them and crashing his mouth over hers.

Just for a taste, only a taste.

Not only did Imogen open up for him, she stretched onto the tips of her toes, nails biting into his shoulders. And, so she wouldn’t have to overextend herself, he filled his hands with her supple ass and gave her a boost.

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