“This,” he murmured.
On the heels of a breath, his lips were on mine. I felt the shape of that word—this—as surely as I felt his mouth move against mine. It was all fire and heat and slow hunger. There were kisses, and then there were Kincaid’s kisses.
He kissed away the doubts clanging in my thoughts. He kissed open the quiet in my heart that I didn’t let anyone near. Even if fleeting, he made me forget the ache of old wounds.
I leaned into our kiss, into him, with everything I didn’t know I was holding back. For a few weightless, shimmering moments, nothing else mattered but this. Every motion was slow, languid, teasing, and designed to bring me to my knees. My knees actually did give out, but, blessedly, I sagged against the truck behind me just as one of his arms banded around my waist to hold me close. I tried to breathe.
Kincaid drew back, dusting one kiss at one corner of my mouth and then the other before he claimed my lips again. This time, his tongue swept in, with not even an ounce of hesitation, and I loved it. I loved the way he just dove in. I loved the way I was burning up with need as I flexed against him.
All of him was strong and hard. I could feel the flex of the muscles in his arms, his strong, muscled chest. He gentled our kiss, lifting his head, whispering my name again. It took an effort to drag my eyes open. My breath was coming in shallow gasps as I stared up at him.
“We should go,” he rasped.
Just then, I heard the sound of tires on gravel and the back door to the restaurant opening and closing. Voices spilled out into the parking lot before muting again.
“Oh,” I said because that was all I could manage.
“Let me take you home.”
“Okay.” Wow. Two whole syllables that time.
He stepped back, and my mind was like static. My body was on fire, alight with heat and sparks flickering inside. When he opened the door and helped me into his truck, my knees were so wobbly that my foot slipped on the running board. He caught me by the hip. Even in that clumsy moment, with the press of his fingers holding me steady, felt like kindling on the fire burning inside.
Chapter Thirteen
Kincaid
The space in my truck felt loaded, weighted with a charge. The fuse of chemistry burning between us had been lit the moment we left the fundraiser, and the flame was racing fast.
Tori. It was that simple.
When we pulled up to her place, I asked, “Can I walk you up?”
She nodded, and I followed her to the steps. Just as we reached the door, a soft bark came from inside.
“Oh, I have to let Bella out,” she said quickly.
“Of course.”
Her sweet dog came out, circling Tori with obvious joy before circling me and giving me a sniff of approval.
“Nothing like the love of a dog,” I said dryly.
Tori’s smile was wide as she looked up at me while walking alongside Bella by the edge of the trees. “She’s my best friend. Have you ever had a dog?” she asked.
I nodded. “I have. Growing up, but haven’t had one since then. But I think about getting another one,” I added.
“Well…” Her tone turned teasing. “You'd better watch out for Tiffany, then.”
“Tiffany?” I echoed, raising a brow.
“She’s married to Wes. She’s the office manager at the vet clinic, and she’s always trying to get me to adopt another dog.”
“She sounds persistent.” I chuckled.
“She is,” Tori laughed. “Wes’s mom runs the animal shelter, and between them, they’re always looking for homes for rescues.”
“Ah, I know Tiffany. Wes is a good guy.”
