I half laugh, half stew. “Was there ever…anything?”
“Anything?” She stops at the car and gapes at me. “You mean with Daniel?”
I shrug, shoving my hands into my pockets like a teenage idiot. “I’m just…asking.”
She bursts out laughing. The sound bounces off the parking garage walls. “Oh my God. You’re jealous!”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“Of Daniel?” She opens the car door, incredulous. “Rhys, please. I’ve known him since he was Finn’s age.”
I open my mouth, but she cuts me off with a grin. “He has grown into quite a good-looking man. Iris thinks he has a crush on me.”
“The son of a bitch,” I mutter, sliding into the driver’s seat.
She turns to me, one brow arched. “Oh, you’re adorable when you sulk.”
I look at her and the way the garage lights catch the curve of her neck, the half-smile on her lips, makes all the irritation, the jealousy, the ridiculousness burn away into something else entirely.
I lean closer. “Keep laughing, Mrs. Prescott.”
“Or what?”
I kiss her.Hard.
She gasps, then kisses me back, matching every ounce of frustration, love, and heat that’s been building between us for months. It’s messy, clumsy, urgent.
When we break apart, she’s breathless. “We’re in a parking lot.”
“I’m aware.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Probably.” I kiss her again.
She’s laughing against my mouth now, hands gripping my jacket. “You’re insane.”
“Completely.”
We tumble into the kind of kiss that erases everything. The jealousy, the fear, the exhaustion.
Just us.
Always us.
Her fingers move up my thigh, slow and deliberate.
“Jayne,” I growl, but it’s weak.
She knows she’s won before I’ve even surrendered. Her lips curl into a siren’s smile. She leans across the console, her breasts pressing against my arm, her breath hot on my neck.
“I love that you’re jealous.” Her hand is on my zipper now, and she’s pulling it down. “You’re jealous because you think he wants me. But he’ll never have me. Not like you do.”
Her fingers are inside my pants now, wrapping around my cock, and I’mdone.
Done arguing.
Done thinking.
