Page 8 of The Wish List
“I don’t mind,” she replied. “I was going to read a bit and take some calls. I can put it off.”
“Take some calls?”
“I work for a customer call center. I usually try to do a couple of hours in the evenings and the morning before AJ gets up.”
“And you work all day?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged as if it was nothing. “The more calls I log, the more I make. It helps me give AJ a few treats in the year and a nice Christmas.”
I stared at her in wonder. Then suddenly, she was in my arms and my mouth covered hers. I pulled her tight to my chest. She flung her arms around my neck, returning my passion with her own. She tasted of the tea she had been sipping and something I couldn’t identify. Something uniquely her. Despite the difference in our heights, she fit against me well, her curves molding to my hardness. She made a low noise in her throat as I deepened the kiss, exploring her, discovering all the sweetness of her sexy mouth. She gripped my hair, played with the ends, and ran her tongue along mine, making me shiver. I ended up on the sofa, her on my lap, as our kisses became frantic. She straddled me, impatiently pushing off my coat so I felt the heat of her skin through the thin layers that separated us. I lost myself to her. To everything about her. The weight of her on my lap, the press of her mouth on mine, the feel of her nipples grazing my chest. How my cock felt trapped between us. I knew we had to stop soon or we would cross a line neither of us was ready for. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t break away from the wonder of her mouth. The warmth of her embrace.
Until the plaintive sound of her son’s voice cut through the fog that had surrounded us.
“Momma!”
She pushed off me, scrambling from my lap. I hated the cold feeling that flooded me without her warmth. Her eyes were wide and startled, her hair messy from my hands, and she was adorably rumpled.
Her gaze strayed to me then snapped back as a second summons was called. She hurried away, and I let my head fall to my chest with a low groan.
I hadn’t planned on walking in here and mauling her like a college frat boy. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her all day. The whole time I dealt with a client, I thought about her. Her smile. Her beautiful eyes. That wild hair. How it felt under my fingers. How soft her skin was. What a wonderful mother she was to her son. How awesome I thought AJ was. The fact that we shared the same name.
I thought about her until I had no choice but to come see her and ask her out again.
Until my body took over my mind and all that mattered was getting her close. I pushed off the sofa, rolling my shoulders and willing my body back under control.
I had only met her that morning, for Christ’s sake. Why was I feeling so strongly about her? Why was she filling my every thought?
I blew out a long breath. I needed to get myself under control.
Now.
* * *
ROSIE
I smoothed the blanket over AJ’s shoulder, stroking the hair back from his forehead. He often called out to me not long after falling asleep. It had been that way since he was able to say “Momma.” As if he needed to feel me close before drifting into his deep sleep.
I was normally prepared for it.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I had been locked in Asher’s arms. Drowning in his taste. Reveling in his touch.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror that hung on the wall across from AJ’s bed. My lips were swollen and red. My hair was messy. My eyes were wide, and I looked as if I had been thoroughly kissed.
And I had.
My God, that man’s mouth.
I had noticed him before AJ disappeared. He was sitting alone, staring at the crowds. There was something about his expression. A sorrow I felt deep in my bones as if it were my own. He was incredibly good-looking, even as serious and stern as he appeared to be. Everything about him was dark. He was dressed in jeans, a navy shirt, and a black leather jacket. He had black Doc Martens on his large feet. His rich brown hair was brushed off his forehead, and his eyes were so dark they were almost black. When he rose to his feet, reacting to my calling out what he thought was his name, I noticed how tall he was. When he stepped in to help, I couldn’t help staring at his wide shoulders, slim waist, and long legs. I expected to see coldness when our eyes met, but instead, I saw only compassion and worry.
When he held my hand, I noticed how large it was compared to my own. When he closed his palm around mine, he engulfed me.
Much like when he held me close and kissed me.
Earlier, he’d been unexpectedly kind. He was obviously used to taking charge, the way he had taken us to breakfast, then driven us home. I had tried to tamp down my attraction to him, knowing it was a lost cause. When he confessed to feeling the same pull toward me, I was shocked. But after he left, I really didn’t think I would see him again. I assumed he would come to his senses and realize he was simply reacting to helping a woman and had gotten carried away. I had googled him, and I knew he was wealthy. That he had been named Philanthropist of the Year three times in a row. I read a lot of articles about the good he did in the community. The pictures I found showed him at various functions. Always alone. He was dressed in a suit in every picture, looking polished and distant, always slightly to the side as if he didn’t want to be there. I zoomed in, wondering if anyone ever noticed the sadness in his eyes. It was the same sadness I had glimpsed earlier. I was certain of it.
Then I shook my head, knowing he existed in a different world than I did, and I had no idea if he was sad or simply bored at one of the seemingly frequent events he attended.
