Page 80 of Lavender Lake
“What?”
“That guy. Trying to get you to go home with him right in front of me.”
“Hmm. They don’t call it liquid courage for nothing.”
“True. I’m impressed, actually.”
“With what?”
“With how you handled that.”
“Handled what exactly?”
“You got him to give you his keys without a fuss. And you shut him down without causing a scene. A lot of men get shitty when a woman tells them no.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice.”
He glowered.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said, my brow furrowing. “I live in Manhattan. I go out a lot. It happens, okay?”
“You take any of them up on their offers?”
“Getting personal, are we?”
“More personal than we’ve already been?”
I cocked my head to the side, rye humming through my veins.
There was something about Bowman. Even though he’d seen me vulnerable, he didn’t lord it over me. He didn’t use it to manipulate me.
I felt safe with him, I realized.
He’d never use my feelings against me.
“Bowman?”
“Yeah, Powell?”
“Are you going to kiss me or what?”
“Kiss you? Out here? Where anyone could see?”
“Is that what you’re worried about?” I took his hand and led him around the side of the bar to the back of the building.
I leaned against the brick wall and waited.
He stared down at me. “You’re not drunk.”
“No,” I agreed. “I’ve had a few, but I’m in my right mind. And I can even do this . . .”
I held out my hands and alternated touching my nose with a finger on each hand.
He stepped forward, grasped both my hands, and lifted my arms, pinning them, and me, in place. His body was warm, solid. And I wanted to feel it moving against me.
In me.
I thrust my breasts forward.
