He stared at me for a long, knowing beat before saying, "Yeah, sure. Grab some of the deep bowls up there, in that cabinet."
We sat across the battered old kitchen table from each other as we ate. The stew was really good. It was the kind of meal my mother liked to callstick to your ribsfood. And the popovers were interesting. The hollow muffin seemed like a symbol of my present stage of life but it was tasty with butter.
Also symbolic.
We discussed my projects at Midge's house and the times I'd spotted Sinatra wandering around the yard. We discovered neither of us had seen a new movie in years and we seemed unscathed by this. There was a touchy moment when Linden asked if Cleary was my married name and I only shook my head in response. He grabbed a recent copy of the local paper and pointed out an article about the Halloween events.
Halloween was a big deal around here.
Apparently it was almost October and I needed to start caring about Halloween.
We washed the dishes together, me at the sink because I was going to crawl out of my skin if Linden refused to let medosomething. He parked himself beside me while he dried the dishes, an eye on me as if he expected me to light the sponge on fire. Then he set the last spoon aside and came up behind me, his hands falling to my waist and his body warm against my back.
"I want to kiss you again." He dragged his lips along the back of my neck, under my ear. "But I don't think that's what you need."
I braced my palms flat on either side of the sink. "And who are you to determine what I need?"
There was a moment where he hesitated but it was gone before I could examine it. He tightened his hold on my hips and rocked against me, every hot inch firm against my backside.
"Someone who tends to be right about these things."
I didn't know whether he was trying to be amusing with that comment but I laughed just the same. "Why do you think you're right about this?"
He hummed against my neck—maybe it was a growl—and I nearly lost my balance from the rumbly waves that noise sent coursing through me. "Because I know I won't stop at kissing you."
He wassohard. His shaft was thick and solid, even through the layers of his jeans and my leggings, and my thoughts condensed down to the empty, needy clench between my legs. I was pinned here, between an unyielding man and a cast-iron sink, burning up, and everything was blurry when I tuned into the rolling pressure of his body. Of what it could be.
"Because I'll want more than your mouth and this is not the night for that," he added.
"That's a decision you own?" I asked as his hand traveled up my belly, settled on the underside of my breasts. "All yours?"
"Yeah. It is."
It wasn't only my thoughts gone blurry now but all of me, every eyelash, every centimeter of skin, every muscle that couldn't decide whether to clench or melt.
"For as much as I want you"—he ran his knuckles over my pebbled nipple, tearing a gusty sigh from me in the process—"tonight's not the night, Peach."
With all the severity I could muster, I asked, "And what has led you to that determination?"
He passed his knuckles over me again, catching that nipple between the joints of his middle and index fingers when he reversed course. He clamped down—and didn't release. "Because you need your rest. It's been a long day and you've been through a lot."
"Excuse me but—"
"I'm not hearing it. The fire was enough, but everything else? Not happening. You need to get the shadows out of your eyes."
"And my divorce official?" There I was, fixer extraordinaire, negotiating with the man pinching my nipple so hard I could feel my pulse throbbing in my core.
His beard rasped the back of my neck when he nodded. "It would help."
"Preston went ahead and gotengaged. He didn't wait," I wailed.
"One of the many reasons I hope I never come face-to-face with him," Linden replied, growly as ever.
He brought the heel of his palm to the center of my back, kneading his way up my spine until he reached the base of my neck. He pressed, gently forcing my chin to my chest while he rubbed the gathered tension.
"This seems unnecessarily paternalistic." It was possible I moaned this but I stood by my point. I didn't need his strict daddy routine.
"Maybe so." He continued working my neck and shoulders while holding my nipple hostage. "Doesn't change anything. You need sleep, Jas, and rest too."
