Page 92 of Ache for You (Slow Burn 3)
She’s a woman nursing a broken heart. Though there’s nothing more I’d love to do than throw her over my shoulder, take her home with me, and make her mine, I have to tread lightly.
Good things come to those who wait.
So I say, “If I thought you were a bad kisser, I wouldn’t be trying so hard to kiss you, now would I?”
She eyes me, cagey as a spy. I can’t tell if she believes me or not, but I don’t have time to ask because she blurts, “Okay, fine, let’s get this over with.”
I take her face in my hands and take her mouth before she has time to change her mind.
TWENTY-SIX
KIMBER
He doesn’t set his watch this time, so I have no idea how long we go at it, standing in the middle of the shop, macking each other’s faces off. It might’ve lasted forever if it wasn’t for the sound of someone loudly clearing her throat.
Breathing hard, I break away from Matteo and glance over my shoulder. Clara stands at the doorway to the back of the shop, looking at us with her brows lifted and her lips pursed, one hand propped on her ample hip.
She does not approve.
“Clara. Uh. Whuz happenin’?”
I can barely speak, I’m so disoriented by lust. Matteo grasps my upper arm when I teeter, chuckling in satisfaction at how thoroughly he’s crossed my wires.
At least I think that’s why he’s chuckling. Truth be told, I’m not sure of much of anything at the moment except I’m going to need to start bringing extra panties to work if he keeps showing up like this.
“I need your direction on the bodice of the blue gown.” She glances at Matteo, giving him one swift up-and-down look that manages to convey her grudging admiration of his beautiful suit and even more beautiful self along with her obvious irritation that I’m futzing around with a man instead of working.
Clara believes men are good for only two things: lawn care and vehicle maintenance.
“Oh. Uh-huh.” I nod like a bobblehead doll. “’Kay.”
She rolls her eyes and trundles away, shaking her head.
As soon as she’s out of sight, Matteo spins me around and comes at me.
“Whoa! Easy, tiger!” I push him away, afraid that if I don’t I’ll soon be tearing our clothes off and mounting him like a bull. “Nope. No way. No more. Gotta get to work. Clara needs me. You heard the woman.” I giggle madly, as if I’ve recently escaped from an asylum. “Back to the trenches!”
His smile is so beautiful it could end wars. “Are you sure you’re ready to go back to work? You seem disoriented.”
“I am totally fine.” Except I sound drunk. I stiffen my spine and lift my chin, hoping he doesn’t notice how badly my hands are shaking from the adrenaline crashing through my veins. I feel as if I just won a Formula One race. My nervous system is popping corks and spraying champagne everywhere.
“Fine?” He watches me, those laser beam hawk’s eyes shining with mirth. “I’ll have to do better next time.”
If he does any better, I might explode. I think I just spontaneously ovulated.
“We need to set a schedule,” I say sternly, attempting to sound like a rational human being and not a woman whose clitoris has its own heartbeat. “I can’t have you showing up like this, interrupting me whenever you feel like it.”
He nods solemnly, but I suspect he’s trying not to break out into laughter. “That’s reasonable. How about after dinner every night? Say, eight o’clock? I’ll drop by the house.”
That seems late, and contradicts what he said earlier about eating the morning frog or whatever it was, but I’m in no condition to negotiate, so I mutter, “Okay. Good. See you then. Bye.”
I spin on my heel, but he calls after me, “Why was your ex here?”
I slowly turn back to him. The laughter has died in his eyes. He’s back to that dangerous look he had when he first came in, dark thunderclouds churning over his head.
Is he jealous?
Halo glowing, a little cartoon angel materializes on my left shoulder. “Tell him the truth,” she whispers, gently flapping her wings. “Tell him Brad is gay and there’s nothing going on between you.”
