Page 76 of Tangled Kisses
We’re doing this right.
Even if it kills us both.
The bathroom door opens, and steam spills into the room, curling around Reese as she steps out in a towel. “Sorry. Forgot my underwear.”
A rough sound tears out of my throat before I can stop it. I could die happy right here.
She edges closer, eyes flicking to the dresser I’m braced against. “Excuse me.”
My pulse races as she reaches past me, the brush of damp skin grazing my arm. The towel slips, just a fraction, and she catches it with one hand while the other fumbles inside the drawer.
Five seconds of torture. Her scent, her warmth, the soft scrape of her knuckles against my hip as she digs deeper.
Finally, she pulls free the scrap of lace and backs away, clutching it to her chest. “Five more minutes?”
My hand clamps around the dresser, knuckles whitening. “Yeah.”
Her gaze flicks down, catching on the thick press of my cock against my jeans. Then, her tongue darts out, sweeping along her lower lip.
That settles it. God’s not testing me, he’s flat-out laughing in my face.
“Are you hungry?” she asks, breezy as hell—and fooling neither of us.
I drag my eyes up the line of her bare legs, the damp flush of her skin, finally meeting her eyes. “Baby, I’m starving.”
An hour later,a far peppier Reese strolls out of the diner by my side.
I love that she eats. She had no problem polishing off an omelet, bacon, and toast. She just shrugged at me as she dabbed her mouth with the napkin, a playful smile curling her lips. “Seems I was starving, too.”
Her smile? It’s everything. I could drown in it and never come up for air.
We fall into step on Main Street, taking our time to browse the shop windows.
“That chaise is so pretty,” Reese says, halting outside a store, her finger tapping the glass. “I love antique furniture. There’s a romance to it, you know?”
I nod, edging closer, letting my hand rest on her hip. “It’s beautiful.”
She chews her lip, then flashes me that smile again. “Give me two minutes. I want to look at it up close.”
“Reese—” But she’s already slipped under my arm, darting through the door.
Wonder how long it’ll take her to realize this isn’t an antique shop. One thing’s certain—I’m not missing her face when she does.
The bell jingles overhead, and she halts just inside.
Mannequins in satin slips and lacy bras stare back at her, a whole wall glittering with straps and lace in every color.
Her spine goes rigid. Slowly, she pivots, eyes wide.
My mouth curves as I step in behind her. “Not exactly mahogany tables and china cabinets, belleza.”
“Not at all,” she whispers, ducking her head as her cheeks flame. “Okay, time to retreat.”
Too late.
“Good morning. Can I help you?” A polished salesclerk winds around a display of bras, her smile practiced and knowing.
Reese waves a dismissive hand at the woman. “We’re just?—”
