Leaving her standing in the mess, I hurry over to the supply closet. I find a dust pan and a broom and I pull them out, along with a roll of paper towels and cleaner from the counter on the way back to her. Much to my surprise, she’s still standing in the same spot.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” I say softly as I stop in front of her.
She shakes her head. “It’s not your fault. I should have locked the door if I didn’t want visitors.”
My eyes linger on her for a moment before I glance back down at the mess. Does she really not want me here tonight? Should I just clean up and leave?
I position the broom on the floor, and attempt to sweep the pieces of glass into a pile. The syrup causes the bristles to stick and while it does collect the glass, it just makes even more of a sticky mess, spreading the liquid across the floor.
Willow lets out a soft breath and as my gaze flicks to hers, I catch her biting back her grin. “You’re only making more of a mess.”
“Do you have a better suggestion?”
She shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “Maybe get down on your knees and try picking up the pieces instead?”
Warmth rushes to the pit of my stomach as a pink tint creeps across her cheeks. I lift a brow and the corners of my mouth twitch. “You’d love to see me on my knees, wouldn’t you?”
Her lips part slightly at my brazenness before lifting into a smirk. “I wouldn’t be against it.”
Holy shit.
I lick my lips, imagining what I’d do to her on my knees, and she dips her head subtly towards the ground. Goddamn her. Bending my knees, I slowly lower myself onto the ground, my eyes never leaving hers. Her lips are still parted and her cheeksare flushed as a shallow breath escapes her. The syrup coats the knees of my pants but I ignore it as I retrieve all the glass from the floor. I can feel Willow’s eyes tracking every movement.
Dropping them all into the pan, I do one last scan, making sure there aren’t any remaining shards and rise to my feet. Willow’s less than a foot away and she drops her gaze down to my pants, Her lips twitch then pull to the left, trying to hold in a smile.
“You have some syrup on you.”
Taking a step closer to her, I extend my hand that’s covered in the syrup and brush it against the waist section of her sweater. My fingers graze the sliver of skin beneath her shirt, just above the waistband of her pants, leaving a trail of saccharine, stickiness. She inhales sharply, her eyes flashing back to mine. “So do you,” I say, my voice dropping low, my tone gravelly.
She narrows her eyes at me. “That’s not fair, Miller.”
“Sure it is,” I say, taking another step toward her. “Although, I never claimed to be fair.”
She grips the bottom hem of her sweater, lifting it up and over her head before tossing it to the ground. My eyes flick down to her bare abdomen, then up and over her black sports bra before trailing up to her face. She tips her head back, her chest rising and falling faster now as she levels her gaze with mine. A fire burns brightly in her irises as she closes the remaining distance between us, grabbing the front of my dress shirt.
“Neither did I.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
WILLOW
Jace’s mouth crashes into mine.
There’s nothing gentle about the way he kisses me back. It’s urgent, demanding, and consuming. He devours me with his lips and I let him, meeting him with the same bruising kiss. His one hand circles around my hips, pulling my body flush to his as the other wraps around the back of my head.
It doesn’t even matter that the lights are on in the store and anyone could walk by and see us. It’s late and Main Street is usually deserted at this time. I’ll take my chances.
He spins us around, his knee pressing between my legs as he urges me backwards. I move with him, our mouths still locked together, until my back presses against the shelves behind me. A few bottles of syrup topple over, but we’re too absorbed in each other, and the moment that we don’t stop to fix them.
Jace’s mouth slows as if he’s gaining control of himself and the situation. What started out as a lust filled, need driven kiss, shifts into something teasing—tantalizing. His tongue strokes mine with precision and skill, until they are tangling and dancing together. His hand is in my hair, his fingertips digging into my skull as he cranes me farther back farther, demanding access to my neck.
And then his mouth is gone.
We break apart and I come up for air. My head is in a daze, warmth and lust coursing through my veins as I slide my hands up and over his shoulders, feeling the taut muscle beneath his shirt. Jace’s lips trail along my jaw, tasting and teasing my flesh as he licks and sucks my skin, moving down to my neck.
“Jace,” I breathe, tipping my head back as my eyelids flutter shut. Leaving his shoulders, my hands find the top button of his shirt and slip it through the hole. He pays me no mind as he runs his tongue along the column of my throat, stopping to nip at my earlobe.
His mouth is back on my jawline, then at the corners of my mouth. “Yeah, baby?” he murmurs against my lips before dragging his tongue along the other side of my neck. Shivers run down my spine. Grabbing his shoulders, I take control and turn us around, pushing him back against the shelves with broken syrup bottles dripping liquid gold onto the floor.
