I spin.
J.T.’s finger is hooked casually in one of my belt loops.
He grins.
Slow.Wicked.
Entirely too confident.
“You think I’m letting you walk away without kissing you first?”he asks.
My stomach flips.
“We’re not exactly alone,” I murmur, glancing toward the open door and the sounds of Evan laughing outside.
“And?”he challenges softly.
Before I can answer, he cups my face with those big, capable hands.
The kiss isn’t rushed.
It’s not frantic.
It’s deliberate.
Possessive in a way that doesn’t scare me—it claims me.
His mouth presses to mine, firm and warm, and I melt into it before I can stop myself.
I feel desired in a way I never have before.
Not tolerated.Not assessed.Not measured against some impossible standard.
Desired.
J.T.makes me feel sexy—like a woman in her prime, not a woman past it.
He doesn’t shrink me.
Doesn’t hint I should soften my laugh or quiet my opinions or hide my curves.
He takes me exactly as I am—capri pants, messy ponytail, big feelings, and all.
And the fact that he’s kissing me in broad daylight, in my brother’s house, feels scandalous and perfectly natural at the same time.
His warmth seeps into me.Grounding me.Astounding me.
That low, ever-present growl in his chest vibrates between us, and I feel it everywhere.
In my stomach.In my spine.In the softest parts of me.
I like it.
God help me, I really do.
I likehim.
And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.
