“And I’m starting to believe that part about her not being the crazy one in your relationship.”
“Not here looking for sympathy,” he growled.
“Pish. If I was giving you sympathy, I’d be spoon-feeding you ice cream and complimenting your manhood. No, this here’s me offering to help you move on with your life for real when you’re done rebounding with me.”
He scratched his chin and regarded her with a healthy mix of distrust, suspicion, and curiosity.
“You still got anything of hers?” sheprompted.
“Got the rings.” His lip curled.
“Good. After we torture me with your video game tomorrow, we’ll go blow ’em up.”
His lips parted.
“That Juice Box kid gonna be at your house tomorrow?”
“The United States government truststhat kidto fly multimillion-dollar airplanes.”
“Shoot, three universities have trusted me to cause molecular explosions. Don’t mean the whole world wants to spend time with me.” She grinned at him. “But I’m right honored that you do.”
He grunted twice and reached for the Jack.
Kaci stood and stretched, and she didn’t miss the way his sleepy eyes lifted to roam her body.
But the man was headed toward a hangover, and she wasn’t as steady on her feet as she should’ve been.
Dang tequila.
She bent over, leaning into his space, her head in a swirl-a-whirl. His eyes went dark as night, inviting her in, commandingher to come closer. “Glad you stayed, sugar,” she whispered. She touched her lips to his and let her fingers drift down the hard planes of his chest. His capable hands cupped her breasts, and he suckled her lower lip into his mouth. Even with her head starting its swim in the drunk tank, a jolt of electric need shot through her bones.
When she found his jeans, she tucked her fingers into the pockets, drawing circles with her thumbs over his shirt while she went fishing.
She could’ve found what she wanted in seconds, but sweet holy jumping jacks, the man’s mouth and his hands and his very essence were more intoxicating than any tequila she’d ever met. So she let him kissher, indulging in the feeling of being wanted. Of being desired. Of being womanly and powerful and seductive, and in womanly, powerful, and seductive beinggoodthings.
But while this magnetic attraction to Lance might make her nipples ache and her inner core throb, she knew she wasn’t the woman he really wanted. Whether his ex was that woman or not, Kaci would never be.
So why couldn’t she let herself sink into him, to straddle him on her couch, unzip his jeans, and enjoy a night of drunken, no-strings sex that neither of them would have to regret in the morning?
Her left fingers connected with a metal ring. She tugged his keys out of his pocket, then slowly pulled out of his kiss. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”
And even though her swollen breasts and her needy core groaned and protested, she tossed him an Ole Miss blanket andretreated to her bedroom.
Lance bangedaround Kaci’s kitchen, his skull pounding almost as hard as his nutsack.
He shouldn’t have stayed.
He shouldn’t have taken that sixth shot of Jack.
And he shouldn’t be clanging metal pots together if he didn’t want his head to split open.
But his head splitting open was preferable to the sinking knowledge that he couldn’t shake Kaci Boudreaux from his life.
He’d had his chance to score with her three times in the past twenty-four hours, and every last time she’d walked away.
She was out. Three strikes. So it wasn’t anyone’s fault her cat almost died the second time, but as far as he was concerned,that was a foul ball. Still counted as a strike.
So why, instead of banging down her door and reclaiming his keys, was he toasting bagels, fixing a fucking fruit salad, and looking for a pan to fry eggs, hoping she’d get up before he couldn’t make any more excuses to stay here?
