Ignite (Wildwood 1)

His gaze did a slow sweep of her body, lingering on all the spots that made her tingle in anticipation. “I can see that,” he drawled.

In the mirror, her cheeks were pink. Some things never changed—like how she blushed at the drop of a hat. “I curse all the time,” she mumbled.

“For real?” He sounded like he didn’t believe her.

“Absolutely. Shit is my favorite word.” She lifted her chin, trying to look dignified, but really, she was being an idiot.

This was what she’d been reduced to while in West’s presence. She insisted that she loved to say bad words and that shit was her favorite.

Could she be any dumber?

“Shit is a good word, I have to agree.” He moved closer to her, his long fingers trailing along the edge of the ugly countertop. She remembered exactly what it felt like to have those fingers trailing on her skin and she wanted to experience that again. “But I have other favorites.”

“You do?” Her voice went higher and she cleared her throat, mentally reminding herself to keep her, ahem, shit together.

“One in particular.” West turned to face her and all the air lodged in her throat when she saw how dark his eyes had become, how close he was to her now. She should tell him to back off. They were moving too fast. She’d just broken up with her boyfriend, the man she had assumed she was going to marry.

Instead she gripped the edge of the counter with one hand, bracing herself, waiting for something, anything to happen. Hopeful. Always hopeful when it came to West.

“What word is it?” she asked, pleased that her voice didn’t come out shaky. She certainly felt shaky, like a fluttering leaf about to get knocked off a branch during the height of fall.

He smiled and stepped closer, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Well. I’ve always been partial to the word fu—”

The doorbell rang, interrupting him, making her jump in surprise. Frustration rippled across his features and he stepped back, running a hand through his hair before he smiled weakly. “Guess that’s the pizza. I’ll go get it.”

“Do you want some money?” she offered. “I can help . . . ”

The look he sent Harper told her she just affronted his manhood. “Keep your money. It’s a ten-dollar pizza.” He exited the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, “Come down and join me. We’ll eat at the kitchen table.”

The moment he was headed downstairs she leaned against the counter, resting her hand on her chest, trying her best to calm her racing heart and recover her wits before she went to the kitchen and joined him.

He was definitely being flirty, but why? Was he just a tease? Yes. Yes, she knew that for a fact. So was he leading her along, playing with her because he had nothing better to do? When he’d been younger he’d done that sort of thing all the time with a variety of girls, including at one point, her. He had a bit of a reputation, so if he was trying to uphold it with his return to Wildwood, so far he was doing a great job.

Shaking her head, she stared at her reflection, her gaze stern, a scowl on her face. “Don’t fall for him,” she murmured, wagging her index finger at the mirror. “He’s dangerous to your well-being.”

Truer words were never spoken.

Too bad she wasn’t listening to her own advice.

WEST TIPPED THE delivery kid ten bucks and snatched the pizza box from his hands.

“Thanks, mister!” the teenaged boy said just as West slammed the door in his face.

Yeah, that was a jerk move, but he doubted the kid cared. He just scored an easy ten bucks.

West took the pizza into the kitchen and set the box on the counter before he opened the fridge, pulling out two bottles of pale ale. He knew Harper hadn’t been much of a beer drinker when they were younger and maybe she wasn’t one now either. He could change out her drink. He had other options.

All he knew was he needed the beer to loosen up. Just having her close made him incredibly tense. Even doing something as innocent and boring as picking out paint colors. Being with her, listening to her voice, watching her as she nibbled on her lower lip while contemplating paint samples sent a white-hot bolt of lust straight through him. He wanted to touch. Taste. Kiss. Strip.

Fuck.

Breathing deep, he twisted the top off his beer and took a few chugs, then went in search of paper plates and napkins. A little brown paper bag full of Parmesan and red pepper flakes came with the delivery and he pulled out a bottle of ranch dressing from the fridge too, remembering how Har

per used to like dunking her pizza in it.

Funny, he hadn’t remembered that particular detail until this very moment.

“Oh, it smells amazing.” She walked into the kitchen, coming to a stop when she saw the pizza box on the counter. “DeMarco’s? I haven’t had that in forever.” It was a Wildwood staple, having been around since West could remember.