After a pause, she said, “It’s okay.”
He looked over at her. “Is it okay if I do it again?”
A smile curved up the sides of Phil’s mouth. She unbuckled the seat belt and scooted over to his side. Then she wrapped her hand around Jamal’s neck and tilted his head toward her.
“Just remember, if I’m too tired to work tomorrow, you’ll have to answer to my boss.”
“I think he’ll understand,” he said as he dipped his head and captured her lips in a much slower, much deeper kiss.
A soft sigh escaped her throat as Jamal’s tongue eased into her mouth, exploring with a relaxed familiarity that shouldn’t have been possible after so few kisses, yet seemed…right. As if his mouth belonged there, connected to hers.
Phil snaked her free hand up his chest, fanning her fingers out against his solid, warm muscles. She pressed herself more firmly against him and rubbed her knee against the prominent bulge in his lap.
Jamal tore his mouth from hers and let out a loud groan.
“Okay, maybe we should stop before we get in trouble,” he said.
She really wasn’t in the mood to stop, but Phil knew he was right. Anyone could pass the car and see them going at it like a couple of teenagers. Her days of making out in cars were behind her. She was a grown woman with her own house. They could make out there.
Actually, they could do a lot more than make out.
“You’re right,” she said. “I think you should take me home.”
His one-handed grip on the steering wheel tightened to the point that Jamal figured he’d leave indentations in the hard plastic. They were nearing Phylicia’s place, and if it were an option, he’d give up his house, his car, and most of the money in his bank account for the chance to follow her inside.
He pulled into her cul-de-sac and, moments later, turned into her driveway.
They spoke over each other.
“Can I—”
“Do you—”
She gestured for him to go first.
“I was just going to ask if I could walk you to your door,” Jamal said.
“I was going to ask if you wanted to come in for a few minutes. I know it’s late—”
“Absolutely,” Jamal answered. Did she really think she had to convince him to follow her into that house?
He got out of the truck and raced around the front to open her door, but as she’d done earlier, she’d already gotten out. His chivalry was useless on her. She pulled the key out of her small clutch purse, and Jamal followed her inside.
Still silent, they made their way to her kitchen. “Have a seat,” she said, pointing to one of the stools at the angled bar that separated the living room from the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink? Beer? Wine?”
“The two beers are my limit when I’m driving. Actually, they’re pretty much my limit, period. I’m not much of a drinker. I’ll take a bottle of water,” he said.
“You’re so responsible,” she said, grabbing a couple of bottled waters from the refrigerator.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Jamal asked.
“It’s good. I’m not a fan of men who back out on their responsibilities.”
Don’t bring it up. Donotbring it up.
“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, and immediately felt like an idiot. Why in the hell did he bring it up?
She sipped from her water bottle, staring at him as she slightly tilted her head back. She capped the bottle and set it on the counter next to her. “Maybe,” she answered. “That’s another topic I’d rather not get into tonight.”
