Page 60 of Tangled Kisses
But damn if it doesn’t knock me sideways.
My cock stirs at the thought, heat coiling low in my belly. What if that’s why she came down here? What if she’s been replaying that kiss in the bar, the same way I have?
Christ, that kiss. The way her lips parted under mine, how she clung to me like she never wanted to let go. Her taste is still branded on my tongue, sweet and desperate, wrecking me in a single breath.
One night, and I’m ruined. That dress she wore—seared into my brain. The glide of her body against mine, the soft press ofher curves, every detail a fucking tease I can’t forget. And now she’s sending me cookies like it’s casual, while I’m standing here hard as steel, imagining my hands on her thighs, parting her open, and taking everything she’s too damn scared to ask for.
Snap out of it, man. Back to the business at hand.
Time to sample her baked goods, since I don’t have time to sample her.
Yet.
God, but I want her.
I tear the package open, noting the care with which Reese wrapped each cookie. A folded note slips free and drifts to the floor.
I snatch it up, running a finger across her neat penmanship.
You said these reminded you of being a kid. I figure we need all the reminders we can get some days. Hope you enjoy them and feel the hugs baked into each one. Love, Reese.
The cookies are fantastic, but it’s the note that lingers. I fold it carefully along the crease and slide it into my wallet. At least this way, a piece of her comes with me this weekend. Makes leaving feel less like walking away.
The crunch of tires on gravel outside snaps my attention to the window. Lauren’s car.
Her driver, Dean, steps out and stretches, working out the kinks from the trip.
At first, he didn’t trust me but hell, I didn’t trust him either.
I half-wondered if he had a thing for Lauren, hovering around us like a watchdog. But somewhere along the way, he figured out the truth about my relationship with his employer: this was never about sex.
The most Lauren and I have shared is a kiss on the cheek, a dance or two. One night I held her when grief gutted her, but that was it.
We’re friends. Paid companions maybe, but still—friends. We protect one another. Her, from the onslaught of false friends in high society and loneliness. Me, from the ever-growing pile of debt accumulating in my name.
This weekend is no different for Lauren, but for me, it’s a game changer, because I’m bringing along my business proposal.
My future plans, so that Reese and I might have a future together.
I push open the door. “Be out in just a second.”
“No rush,” Dean calls back. He’s a decent guy, steady. Her late husband would’ve liked him.
“Need the bathroom?” I ask.
“Stopped at the station when I fueled up,” he says with a shrug.
“Fair enough.”
I duck back inside, grab my bag—and freeze. A bill from Pearl’s independent living facility sits on the table.
Shit.
My stomach drops as I skim it. It’s chock-full of legal jargon, an attempt to soften the blow that her rent is increasing by $500 a month.
I can barely cover costs now, working more than sixty hours a week between construction and the stables. Where the hell am I supposed to find another five hundred a month?
Pearl would move in a heartbeat if I broke down and told her the truth. The wholeunvarnishedtruth.
