She nodded, stood, and felt a slight wobble in her knees. “Two is my limit,” she said, holding up the requisite number of fingers. “Definitely two. Definitely.”
Chuckling, he slipped an arm under hers. “All right, Rainman. We’re outta here.”
Ramsey woke when the car slowed to make the turn into the driveway. Her head was resting against the window and she had a crick in her neck. She straightened slowly, massaged her nape, and glanced at the console clock. It was only seven. “God,” she said feelingly. “My head. I don’t remember falling asleep.”
“You didn’t make it out of the West End Circle. If it’s any consolation, it was a big glass and some potent red.”
She pretended to consider it. “It’s a little consolation. Did I snore?”
“Do you really want to know?”
She groaned softly.
Sullivan laughed and shook his head. “You didn’t.” He held up a hand. “I swear. You know I’d tell you.”
Did she know that?she wondered. When he wasn’t interrogating her, he was textbook considerate. Ramsey looked up and for the first time recognized they were sitting inherdriveway. “You brought me home.”
“Uh-huh. What was the alternative?”
“I thought you’d get out at your house and then I’d drive my car to mine.”
“Almost a good plan. I’m going to make sure you get in okay and then I’m going to leave your car here and walk home.”
“Sullivan, it’smiles.”
“Two and a half. That’s an easy stroll.”
“I don’t like it. It’s dark and it’s chilly. Let me drive you home. That wine, whatever the hell that grape was, is out of my system.”
“Not chancing it,” he said, turning off the car. “I’ll be fine. The fresh air will do me good and I didn’t work out today.” He opened his door. “Stay there. I’m coming around.”
“Honestly,” she said, about to protest, but he was already out and walking. Ramsey swung her door, swiveled in her seat, and started to climb out. She had one foot on the pavement and the other about to follow when her boot heel caught the doorframe. She hopped on her grounded leg to find balance and release her heel, but in spite of her effort, she began to pitch forward. Expecting to face plant on her driveway, she was relieved when she face planted against Sullivan’s chest.
“Easy,” he said, helping her straighten. “I’ve got you.”
“Not the wine,” she mumbled. “I swear. Not the wine. My heel got—” She stopped because he was kissing her. Really kissing her. If her knees gave way, that wouldn’t be the fault of the wine either, but she didn’t know if she’d tell him that. She felt herself sagging, and before she became a cliché, she steadied herself. He could kiss for a long time without coming up for air. All his swimming experience, she supposed.
Sullivan lifted his head. “Did you say something?”
“Did I?”
“Mm. Thought I heard—”
Ramsey slipped her hands around the back of his head and urged his mouth back to hers again. He offered no resistance. He closed the door behind her and backed her against it. She murmured her pleasure against his lips and stopped thinking about how good he was at this and simply enjoyed the moment. For the first time, mindfulness made sense to her. Textures. Flavors. Shapes. Heat.
She released his head and used both hands to open his jacket. She walked her fingers inside, appreciated the warmth of his body, the firm shape of him against her palms. He was a perfect wedge. Broad shoulders, tapering waist, narrow hips. One of her hands slid lower and she cupped his groin. He felt thick and heavy in her palm.
“Whoa,” he whispered against her lips. He lifted his head a fraction and then rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t think so. Not tonight. No sexpectations, remember?”
“But you said it should happen organically.”
“God,” he said feelingly. “I hope I didn’t say that.”
Ramsey removed her hand from his groin and fingered his leather belt. “You might have said it should happen naturally.”
Sullivan lifted his head. “That sounds more like me.”
“And?” she asked. In case that wasn’t clear enough, she added, “Do you want to come inside?”
