Page 48 of The Sweet Spot
“No, it didn’t.” He absently rubs the back of my hand. Without warning, he lifts my hand and kisses the back of it. Then he presses my hand to his face. “Not one bit. What about you? Did you date anyone besides Dave while I was away?”
“No. David was the first and only. When he finally left town after our divorce was final, I realized I’d dodged a bullet. I was afraid to date again after that. I no longer trusted my own judgment.”
“Do you trust me?”
I smile. “Absolutely.”
At that moment, Pumpkin races into the room and jumps up on the back of the sofa. He starts rubbing against the back of Chris’s head.
“Cats are good judges of people,” I point out. “If Pumpkin trusts you, I certainly do.”
Chris smiles at my comment, but only for a moment. Suddenly, he’s back to being serious. “We need to talk about Dave.”
“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.”
He smiles ruefully. “I know. But we have to be realistic. He’s going to get out on bail sooner rather than later. I doubt the judge will deny him bond, even though I think that’s what should happen. Assuming he’s going to be released, as soon as tomorrow I’m afraid, you’re going to need to get a restraining order.”
I sigh. “I’ll go to the courthouse tomorrow to fill out the paperwork. Hopefully the judge will approve it quickly.”
He reaches for my hand and links our fingers together. “Are you sure Braggart didn’t hurt you earlier? I saw he had you pinned against the wall.”
“He had his hand around my throat, and he grabbed one of my breasts really hard, but that’s it.”
“That’s it?” Chris is furious. “Hell, he never should have touched you at all!”
“This isn’t personal for him, Chris. It’s not about sex. It’s not even aboutme. It’s about control and money. He just wants my money.”
“But his folks are loaded. Why does he need money?”
“His parents disowned him after our divorce. They disapproved of how he was treating me. And they only knew half of it, trust me. I don’t know for sure, but I suspect he’s broke, or close to it. I can’t think of any other reason why he’d come back here. He assumed the house and diner were in my name,but they’re not. Not yet, anyway. Granny had a trust drawn up after Grandpa died, even before her mind started deteriorating. Everything goes to me after she passes.”
“Well, I’m not after your money,” he says with a chuckle. “I make decent money as a sheriff, and my house and truck are paid off.”
I start tracing a vein that runs from the back of his wrist all the way up to his elbow. When I skim my finger back down his arm, following the path of that thick ropey vein, he shivers.
“I’m about three seconds away from kissing you,” he warns. “If you don’t want me to, or if you’re not ready for that, just say so. I’ll understand.”
I see hunger in his eyes, but also caution. Maybe he thinks I’m not ready for intimacy after what happened with David today. But I am ready, because what happens betweenushas absolutely nothing to do with David.
It’s time for another confession. “I’ve been waiting years for you to kiss me.”
He goes still, except for his breathing. His chest rises and falls heavily as he stares into my eyes, searching for something. I guess he finds what he’s looking for because he leans closer.
And then it’s just like it is in the movies. We gravitate toward each other in slow motion, in perfect sync, our gazes locked. And when his lips settle on mine, warm and sure, everything falls into place.
I breathe in his scent—warm male skin, clean laundry, a hint of cologne—and my body comes alive. My nerve endings go off like fireworks, shooting delicious tingles throughout my body.
When the kiss deepens, he groans, the sound rough and needy. His free hand is suddenly in my hair as he clasps the back of my head and holds me to him. I slip my arm around his waist, careful to avoid his injured arm.
Our first real kiss.
When Pumpkin lies down on the back of the sofa and starts purring, I chuckle. “We have an audience,” I murmur against his lips
Chris pulls back with a smile as he looks into my eyes. “Tell me what you want, Jennie.” His voice is rougher than usual. “Where do we go from here?”
“What do I want?” My pulse is racing as it tries to catch up with reality. The one thing I’ve wanted for so long is right here, practically in my lap. I’m afraid to move forward, but I’m terrified of staying frozen in place. Finally, I take a leap of faith and blurt out what I want. “I don’t want you to sleep in the guest room. I want you to sleep with me.”
His eyes widen as if he’s surprised by my answer. “Just to sleep? Or,tosleep?”
