Page 122 of Dallas

Okay, he would get used to those ideas in stages. And maybe they could compromise.

But the sentiment stood.

“Yeah, well. Don’t push your luck. Anyway...the cupcakes will not frost themselves.”

“My cows won’t take their own vitamins either.”

“Or cut off their own...well.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay so...makeup is in the other bathroom and I...” She shrugged her pale shoulders and backed out of the bathroom.

He didn’t know what had caused her unease, but she was definitely uneasy. He let out a breath and walked into his room, hunting for his clothes. He would have to follow her lead. To a point. Then he was going to do some pushing.

Because he was done hanging in limbo. He knew what he wanted now. He knew what he felt. He loved her. For better or worse, for chewed-up throw pillows or orderly house. And that meant he wasn’t going to just hang back.

And she wasn’t going to be able to avoid him forever.

Chapter Nine

Jace was so hot. Standing at the stove cooking her dinner. And he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Just jeans riding low on his hips, the snug fit hugging his ass like a little denim-wrapped present that was just for her.

Ugh. Wasn’t this supposed to be getting easier? Weren’t things supposed to be less...lusty?

She’d spent the past week in his bed. And on his couch. And in the shower. Once on the floor in the hall.

Yes. It had been a busy week.

And she didn’t feel any closer to getting out of the woods. Worse, she was forgetting why she wanted out.

Things were getting tangled. Jace her friend and Jace her lover weren’t really staying as separate as she would have liked. Because sometimes they were talking and laughing, and she would picture him naked. And then sometimes they were naked and he would say something very Jace and make her laugh.

Muddled. It was muddled.

And her mind was muddled at the moment because of those jeans. Because of the sexy shift and bunch in hismuscles as he stirred the pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove.

What she really wanted to do was walk up and kiss his bare shoulder. Trail her fingertip down the curve of his spine. Slide her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans. Squeeze his butt.

But this was the problem with their little arrangement. She felt compelled to find the line during the times they weren’t getting it on. Which meant acting like his friend and not his bed partner when they weren’t hot and heavy.

Which meant no random shoulder kisses or proprietary ass grabs just before dinner.

But she wanted to.

That was sort of disturbing. It was line-muddling. And stuff.

But it might not hurt, either. Especially not if it was considered fore-foreplay. Because they would have sex later, of that she had no doubt. Because if every night over the past week was an indicator, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

She crept up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Hi,” she said. He went stiff beneath her fingertips.

“Hi,” he said.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his skin, just like she’d imagined, before tracing his spine, also like she’d imagined. And then she edged her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans, skimming the top of his butt. She stopped short at squeezing, even though she wanted to.

“How was your day?” she asked, pulling away.

“Good.”

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