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“Think faster.”

I grab his shirt and kiss him.

Dane makes a rough sound against my mouth. Then he’s kissing me back. One of his hands slides into my hair, the other grips my waist and pulls me across the space between us. I land against his chest and his mouth takes mine again. Hot and hungry, nothing like the careful kiss against my cheek at the courthouse.

My fingers tighten in his shirt.

He tastes like whiskey.

His beard scrapes my skin.

His hand moves down my back and grips my hip, holding me against him.

And every nerve in my body fires at once.

I kiss him harder.

Dane groans.

Then he stops.

Just suddenly stops.

He pulls his mouth away.

I stare at him, breathless. “What the hell?”

His chest rises hard beneath my hands. “Enough.”

“Enough?”

“Yeah.”

“You were just telling me how much you want me.”

“Still do.”

“Then why did you stop?”

His hand stays at my waist. “Because you’re drinking.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

“And I kissed you.”

“I noticed.”

I glare at him.

His thumb strokes once over my hip. “Because when I take you to bed, wife, you’re not going to wonder whether it was the whiskey.”

I open my mouth.

He isn’t finished. “Or the hundred grand.”

My anger fades.