“Why can’t it just be fun?” she asked. “Everyone’s always riding me about relaxing and having fun and getting back to that. This is me trying.”
“April.” He squeezed her hand. “I know you. You do everything with emotion.”
“Not this.” She scooted closer to him. “We’re both adults. We’re both single. We’re onmybed. There’s practically a whole chemistry set igniting between us. What do you want to do about it, Mr. Fix It?”
What could she say? She’d tried for sultry. It came out a little wonky, but she’d made the effort.
He said nothing, but his thumb stroked the inside of her wrist, so that was probably a pretty good sign. Also, it felt amazing.
“I have two choices right now,” he said, the words seeming to stroke her skin along with his thumb. He watched the movement along her inner wrist.
What he did not do was continue speaking.
She shifted. “Are you going to tell me what they are? The choices?”
He made a deepmmm-hmmnoise in his throat. “The correct choice is that I stand up, go to the kitchen table, and get back to work.” He lifted his eyes to search hers. “The second choice is that I stay here.”
“I vote the second choice,” she said, more than a little too quickly. She didn’t hold her hand up like she was actually voting, but it took a great deal of restraint to keep it back.
He moved closer to her, his lips just a breath from hers. “I guess life isn’t always about making the correct choice.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Being a mom is damn hard. Sometimes you’ll want to sit on your closet floor with a bottle of wine and cry. When you do, choose a Chardonnay. That way you don’t have to deal with red wine stains if you spill.”
—Dylann Crush
April
“You’re sure?” he asked, more than a little too late.
“Yes,” she said as she pulled him to her, hooking her leg over his hip. The snug fabric of her pants pressed against his thick erection.
He looked to her with an expectant gaze, his eyes unsure, his expression relaxed.
“I shouldn’t have started this.” He ran his hands over his face. For a guy whose job it was to get things right, he kept saying the wrong thing.
She stilled under him.
“Why?” she asked, the question one of genuine curiosity.
He moved his hand from her jaw. “Because I’m about to mess everything up.”
“I don’t think that means what you think it means.” She smiled because Simone would have been all in withThe Princess Bridereferences.
His erection pressed against her center and she wasn’t thinking about anything else except him. The feel of him between her thighs. They were both still fully dressed—which was a complete shame—but she was more turned on than she’d been in forever.
And then there was the press of his mouth against hers, his hands in her hair, her hands yanking at his shirt to untuck it from his pants.
Something made him pause, and he stopped kissing her. His breaths came ragged against her throat.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Actually, she sort of croaked it because it came out on a moan.
He didn’t respond at first, seemed to attempt to get control over some part of him.
“Give me a second,” he said finally.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she said softly.
