Like me? Do you like me?
“Yeah,” I say, plastering a grin on my face even as my body burns for hers. “I mean,Idon’t, but if you do, I’m more than happy to put them in the cannellini. I’d have to drive into the Ridge to buy some, given I don’t like them, but I would. If you want me to. If you like them, I’ll go get them for you and—” I snap my mouth shut, staring at her. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m babbling like a nervous teenage boy.
She gazes up at me, an emotion in her eyes I have no hope of deciphering.
“Umm…” I give her a sheepish grimace and turn back to the kitchen counter, reaching for a tomato. “Just forget that happened, okay? I think my brain just disconnected from my mouth for a moment, and I?—”
Warm, firm fingers curl around my wrist, and I turn just as Waverly slips her other hand into the hair at the nape of my neck, tugs my head down to hers, and kisses me.
Chapter Six
Waverly
He growls into my mouth, grabs my ass with his large, long-fingers hands, and yanks my hips to his. His rigid cock presses to my belly, our clothes doing nothing to diminish its size and hardness, and liquid heat pools between my thighs. Oh, I want it inside me so much my whole body aches.
Tightening my fists in his hair, I grind against its length, inviting, demanding…
With a raw groan, he tears his lips from mine, his chest swelling as he sucks in a ragged breath. His hands loosen on my ass. “Waverly…” he murmurs, shaking his head. “We can’t. I’m…”
I jerk back out of his arms, shame flooding me, ice prickling over my skin. “Oh God, I’m sorry.” Embarrassment chokes each word. “I… I don’t… I didn’t mean…” Burying my face in my hands, I let out a strangled whimper, my stomach clenching. “I thought… I mean, it felt like we…”
“Waverly.”
Lifting my head, I pull in a breath and meet his gaze. He’s studying me, a strained tension on his face. His Adam’s apple jerks up and down his throat, and he opens his mouth to say something.
“I’m so sorry,” I cut him off. My throat is dry, like I’ve swallowed a bucket of hot sand. “I completely fucked up. You probably have a girlfriend, a wife. A husband? Shit. I’m much better at knowing animals than people.” Sighing, I shake my head. “Are there Ubers in Hartley Ridge? I’ll book one now and wait for it out?—”
“Waverly.” He cups my face in his large, strong hands, and I gaze up at him, my heart smashing in my chest in a frenetic beat. “There’s no girlfriend,” he continues. “No wife.” A lopsided grin plays with his mouth. “No husband. What thereisis a minor head injury and the possibility of concussion.”
I frown even as the heat from his body melts into mine. “So…”
I don’t want to say it. I don’t want to say,So you want me as much as I want you?I might still be misreading…whatever this is. Because it’ssomething. My body feels it. My heart feels it.
“So I need to think about your head,” he says. He meets my stare again, and the open hunger in his eyes detonates concentrated lust deep in my core. “I want you so fucking much, Waverly.” His rough murmur caresses my senses like a physical touch. My nipples bead. My heart quickens. “There’s no way I would be able to take it slow. Or gentle.” He brushes the backs of his knuckles over my cheek. “So for now…” He takes a step backward, picks up a tomato from the counter and offers it to me, his smile almost sheepish. “We make cannellini.”
I part my lips, ready to say to hell with my head, when a dull throb behind my ear—no doubt where my camera hit me—reminds me of why I’m here in Jake’s home. And it’s not because we met at a café or even a bar.
“We make cannellini,” I echo, taking the tomato from him.
His choppy breath dissolves into a low chuckle. “Cannellini.” He turns back to the counter, drizzles olive oil into a cast iron skillet, and places it on the hob. “Tell me about the Giant Dragonfly. You said earlier it’s endangered?”
Warmth flows through me. He remembered. Why does that make me feel so good?
“It is,” I reply, turning to the counter myself and selecting a small cutting board. “And illusive. And so not meant to be halfway up Talisman Peak.”
“Are you an insect specialist?” he asks, separating three shallots from the bunch. He chops them like a chef, and I imagine myself spending a lifetime cooking with him. Maybe I should have insisted on the Uber?
“Zoology student.” I fix my attention on my job of dicing the tomato. “I have only one more assignment left, and then I’m finished.”
“And then?”
Why does his voice sound cautious?
I risk my thumb and glance up at him. He’s sauteing the shallots in the pan, but there’s a tension to his shoulders, as if he’s waiting for something.
“And then I’ll see what life throws my way.”
He turns his head, and our stares lock. “No concrete plans? You’re not tied down anywhere?”
