Sully waited in Jack's truck without complaint, like this was routine. Maybe it was. I didn't ask. Didn't want to know. As cute as he was, the dog was the last thing on my mind right now.
Jack stepped inside, and the click of the shutting behind him was deafening. Without the constant noise of the bar, the room felt a lot smaller than it had before. I picked at my nails, wondering how to get this started; I’d used all my bold back at the bar.
"We don't have to," he said quietly, almost as if he could sense my hesitation. "If you changed your mind."
"I haven't."
"You sure?"
I turned to face him. He was standing perfectly still, hands at his sides, making no move toward me. Giving me space. Giving me the choice.
I'd been making choices for other people for so long, I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to make one purely for myself.
"I'm sure," I said. I stepped closer. Close enough to feel the heat coming off his body. "I want you."
Something shifted in his expression. Something that looked almost like relief.
"Then you have me," he said.
He closed the distance between us in one step. His hands framed my face, tilting it toward his, and he paused an inch away, breath warm against my lips.
"Last chance to change your mind," he murmured.
I ran my hands up along his arms, holding his wrists. “Jack.”
"Yeah, beautiful?"
My gaze lowered to his mouth. “Stop talking and kiss me.”
He smiled against my mouth. Then he kissed me.
Not hard, not demanding. Just a slow press of his lips against mine, a question and an answer all at once. He kissed like he had all the time in the world. Like there was nowhere else he'd rather be than right here, learning the shape of my mouth.
I hadn't been kissed like this in... God. Maybe ever.
My hands fisted his shirt, pulling him closer. He made a low sound in his throat, and the kiss changed—deeper now, hungrier. His tongue slid against mine, and heat pooled low in my belly, spreading outward until my whole body felt like it was humming.
His hands dropped from my face to my waist, fingers finding the hem of my shirt and slipping beneath. The first brush of his calloused palms against my bare skin made me gasp into his mouth.
"Okay?" he asked, pulling back just enough to check.
"More than okay." I tugged at his shirt. "Take this off."
That smile again. Slow and knowing. "Bossy."
I grinned. "You have no idea."
He pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion, and sweet Jesus, the man was built. A scar curved along his ribs. I wanted to trace it with my tongue.
So I did. His skin was warm beneath my tongue. Soft and smooth as I trailed kisses along the scar and up his chest.
Jack's breath hissed out between his teeth. His hands tightened on my waist, and then he was walking me backward toward the bed, his mouth finding my neck, my jaw, that spot behind my ear that made my clit pulse.
His fingers were at my shirt buttons, slow and deliberate, peeling it open like he was unwrapping something he'd been patient about all night.
When it fell away, he stopped and just looked at me.
The hunger in his eyes sent a sharp, dizzy thrill through me—powerful in a way I hadn't expected, like I'd stepped into something I couldn't easily step back out of.
