While she arranged the flowers in the vase, Holt poured wine into the extra glass she’d left on the counter. When he was done, he added more to hers.
“How long until dinner?”
Bailey glanced at the clock on the wall. “Twenty-two minutes.”
“Good.”
“You’re not hungry?”
“Oh, I’m hungry,” he said, moving closer. “But twenty-two minutes gives me plenty of time to do this.”
Bailey found herself in his arms, his lips moving over hers. Her body acted on instinct, her arms wreathing his neck as she held on, reliving the exquisite sensations as his tongue moved against hers. She’d missed this. The strength in his hands, the warmth of his body, and that unique spicy scent. It was a heady masculine mixture of vanilla, amber, and woody floral notes that went right to her head.
“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do that,” Holt murmured against her mouth.
“Then why didn’t you?”
“You’ve been so busy; I didn’t want to be selfish.”
Bailey grinned. “I won’t mind if you’re selfish sometimes.”
Holt kissed her again, and she was pretty sure the kitchen heated a few more degrees from the intensity. This time her hands roamed, sliding beneath his T-shirt to find smooth, warm skin. He groaned, and she felt the reverberation move through her, lighting every nerve ending, and they all seemed to have a direct correlation to her pussy because she was throbbing with anticipation.
He eliminated the space between them, their bodies pressed together. She felt the muscles in his back flex and shift beneath her fingertips, and she had the sudden urge to slide her tongue over them so she could memorize every plane and angle of his body. She’d never been the kind to get swept away like this. Sex was something she enjoyed but not something she’d ever craved. She’d never been with a man who could light her up from the inside, but Holt didn’t seem to have a problem. Almost like he knew exactly where the buttons were that would turn her to maximum voltage.
When his lips trailed down her jaw, Bailey fought the urge to climb him. As she clutched him tighter, she opened her eyes and saw the door that led to the back stairs. For a moment, she imagined Rafe standing there watching them the way he had when they’d been doing something very similar downstairs. A shiver snaked down her spine at the same time her clit pulsed.
“What’s wrong?” Holt asked, pulling back and meeting her gaze.
Bailey frowned. “Nothing. Why?”
“I can feel the tension in you. And I’m not sure it’s the good kind.”
Oh, it was good, all right. As for whether it was normal or appropriate… that was something else entirely.
“Sorry.” She forced a smile and managed to release him so she could back up a step. “I just… how’d it go with the sheriff today?”
Holt continued to watch her, but he took the redirect easily. “It didn’t. He canceled. Said he had something else to deal with.”
“Did you reschedule?”
“I told him I’d get back to him in a week, see if he has some time then.”
Bailey heard the words, but her gaze shifted to the back door again. She imagined Rafe standing there, watching them. In her mind, Holt was stripping off her dress while Rafe’s heated gaze caressed her from a distance.
“Bailey?”
Jerking her attention to Holt, she realized that wasn’t the first time he had said her name.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“You’re distracted. Talk to me.”
Bailey shook her head and reached for her wine glass. She drank it like water, downing half the glass in one gulp.
“Bailey?”
