She gulped. “Wrong about what?”
“About that other slice being the best.” He nodded in her direction. “I’m using all two to four thousand taste buds, and I have to say thatthatone was the tastiest yet.”
Chapter 7
Perhaps breaking out the moonshine peaches wasn’t such a good idea after all. Easton had realized, during the whole feeding each other encounter, that the liquor was already hitting her.
He’d done the responsible thing—sealed up the jar at its halfway point and set it away from them, but the effects hadn’t begun to wear off. Normally, that might not be a problem. Because normally, women didn’t have this kind of effect on him.
Ivy Ingles was different. Every time he expected one thing, she did another. Even now, as she sat before the fire, those loose locks of golden hair framing her pretty face in the firelight, she was grinning from ear to ear. Not pouting about being stuck in a blizzard. Not carrying a grudge about the crappy interview.
He mused over their recent conversation. She’d asked more about his job, told him more about hers. All the while, her words were laced with a slur, courtesy of the moonshine.
He let out a sigh as he watched the way she trailed her fingers over the bearskin rug, her brow slightly furrowing in thought. Suddenly she scooted closer to him, and not very slyly either.
The two might very well look like they were in a couple’s yoga class, legs crossed beneath them while facing each other, a foot-space of distance lying between them. That is, until she moved in again. Her knees brushed against his, sending sprouts of desire to take root. At least their folded legs kept them from getting any closer than this.
“Hi,” she said with a grin.
He couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath as he replied. “Hi.”
She leaned forward then, releasing a breathy sigh as she set her hand over his where they rested in his lap.
Whoa. The warmth of her was everywhere. It felt nice having her so close.
“Thanks again for saving me today,” she said softly.
Easton gave her a nod. “You’re welcome.”
“I feel really…” She paused, her blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “…warmtoward you right now.”
Okay, now shereallysounded drunk. And after what—a few measly peach slices?Lightweight.
Still, heat stirred low in his belly. Her closeness, her comment, the way she was looking at him—all of it had him thinking of that tempting mouth of hers. Of how, when the peach juice dripped down her lip and he’d gotten a taste of it, he’d wanted to rush in for a taste of her lips too. Even now, the urge was as constant and prodding as the beat of his heart.
He gulped, forcing his mind someplace else as the belly heat stirred once more. “We should get a sleeping bag set up for you,” he said.
But Ivy moved her hand to his bicep, urging him to stay put. He ran his gaze over her face, enjoying the way the firelight complimented her skin. “I’m having some thoughts inside,” she admitted.
Oh, no. Where was his canteen when he needed it? She was dehydrated for sure—that would explain the strong reaction.
“Why don’t you tell me about yourthoughtswhen you wake up?”
“Of what it would be like to kiss you,” she finished.
Easton’s pulse spiked. “I think that’s the moonshine talking,” he forced himself to say. “You don’t drink often, do you?”
“No,” she admitted.
Neither did Easton, but he wasn’t affected the way she was. Of course, Ivy was considerably smaller than him.
“Listen, Ivy. I might be having similar…thoughts, but—”
A huge smile took over her face, distracting him from what he’d planned to say. Dang, she was cute. And she was nudging impossibly closer even still, as if what he’d said was an invitation.
“But,” he added, resting a hand over her grip on his bicep.
“You’re muscles are really strong,” she said.
