“Thomas, put me down!” All she’d done was agree to a trial. A marriage trial to the man she was already married to. It hardly deserved a big celebration.
But Thomas didn’t seem to think so. His eyes danced as he spun her around a second time, still laughing, still with that big, silly grin spread across his face.
And then he set her down, but not the same way he picked her up, oh no. He slid her down him, her body held tight against the strong, muscular form that had so fascinated her when they’d first met. And when her feet finally touched the floor, he leaned in, his breath brushing her chin for an instant, and then his lips were soft against hers.
She stilled, not quite able to pull away, and not quite able to move her mouth against his. A tear slipped down her cheek, then another. Too soon. This was too soon. She might be ready to let him back into her life, but not for the intimacy they’d once shared.
“What are they doing?” Claire’s voice again.
“They’re kissing, silly, like Mr. and Mrs. Oakton do.” Olivia that time.
“I’ve never seen Mr. Oakton kiss Mrs. Oakton like that.”
“I think it’s nice.”
“Then why is Ma crying?”
Thomas moved his mouth to travel from her cheek to her jaw, his kisses impossibly tender against her skin.
“Mama, I’m hungry.” Something tugged at her skirt, then a small body wedged its way between her and Thomas’s legs.
Thomas’s hold slipped away a moment later, then he frowned and took his thumb to swipe at the tear trickling down her cheek. “You’re crying. I didn’t mean to upset you, angel.” He dropped his hands to her shoulders. “Are you all right?”
“I…” Was she? She didn’t feel like she’d been all right since he’d returned.
“I never agreed to kissing,” she whispered through her swollen throat. Kisses would muddle her senses until she couldn’t think clearly. Already she wanted his arms back around her, his warm lips against hers.
“No kissing?” The frown crept back onto his face. “I don’t recall you saying that was out of bounds before agreeing to the truce.”
She pulled away from him. “Maybe not, but you never said it was part of the truce either.”
“What if I want to kiss you?”
She wrapped her arms around herself, a poor replacement for her husband’s arms that had held her so solidly a few minutes ago. “Kissing will only confuse things between us, and we hardly need more of that.”
“Confuse things, huh?” His frown turned into a smile, and then he winked at her. Actually winked! As though she were some trollop to be flirted with rather than a woman who’d been married for a decade. “It’ll be fun seeing who wins this argument, won’t it?”
Then he leaned down and kissed her again, except this time when their lips met, she couldn’t quite manage not to kiss him back a little.
Chapter Eighteen
Something shifted beside Thomas’s face, and he rolled over to find a warm body lying beside him in bed. Jessalyn. He sighed and nestled closer.
“Thomas!” She sat upright. “You’re back. You’re all right.”
Hands ran over him then. Familiar hands. Long and slim and… caring.
“Jess.” He groaned. She couldn’t keep touching him like that, not unless she intended to act like his wife in other ways too.
Her hands stilled on his chest, and her head rested there a moment later. “I probably shouldn’t worry about you working for Isaac, but I do.”
He raised his hand to stroke her shoulder, a warm sensation sweeping through him. “It wasn’t dangerous work last night. We just did some patrolling.”
“Patrolling for what?”
If only he knew. “Anything out of place or suspicious.” Of course, if they’d found something while patrolling, the job would have taken a quick path into dangerous territory.
“Do you still think my shop fire was arson?”
