The Love Coupon (Stubborn Hearts 2)

“I think we should kiss.”

“No.” Any minute now the body-flattening equilibrium whirling would start. “Oh hell no.”

“Why? Because I’m messy and you’re tidy? I’m a ruthless politician and you’re a sage, set-in-his-ways boulder, huh?”

A what? “Because we live together.”

“That makes it convenient if we want to kiss again.”

“I’m your landlord. It would be inappropriate. There’s a power differential and I’d be taking advantage of you.”

She mocked with a shocked expression. “That almost makes me want to back the heck up.” The tone of voice was dry as an empty wine bottle.

He gave her a stern look. “It should.”

“Because you really think you’d be taking advantage of me.”

Because he could see it happening. His hand in Flick’s hair and those clever, rusty eyes of hers going big and dark. “I’m not kissing you.”

“You can always put the Tinder app back on your phone.”

“I don’t need the Tinder app.” But it would be safer to reinstall than to juggle Flick’s fire.

“I’m suggesting we kiss. We see if there is an itch and if we like the mutual scratch.”

He looked away from her, the picture of bored-with-this. But the idea was alive, a crackling tension in his muscles. “You can say it a dozen different ways. It’s not happening.”

“It would be a kiss. Not a vow of forever.”

“Flick, we’re awkward with each other. Kissing could only make it worse.” It would be a breakneck maneuver and he didn’t need the risk.

“Or better.”

“It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“If you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best.” Another of those awful Tinder profile lines. She made a clack sound with her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

He heard it like the clang of the safety barrier on an amusement park ride buckling him in place. Things were about to get rough.

Chapter Six

It wasn’t fair to tease Tom like this. But the thing Flick wanted most in the world at this moment was to know how he kissed. He was so oversized and wound tight, he might be all bossy hands, hair-pulling and bruising lips.

This wasn’t how she’d expected the evening to go. She almost went out for drinks and dinner instead of coming home, not sure of Tom’s reception, but figuring it might make things more uncomfortable if she stayed away.

Last night, shirtless, tousled Tom had been sleepy and confused enough not to be guarded. He’d let his naked interest show until he remembered he was the reluctant landlord, and locked it down behind complaints. Tuna casserole Tom was contrite about that. His food was wonderful, he’d acknowledged his intemperate behavior, and his undisguised intention to make amends had led her to teasing laughter, unloading about her family and talking about Drew, and she never did that.

She cast her eyes over Tom and licked her top lip. Maybe he would touch her tentatively, be all watchful, gentle and deliciously reactive, and that could be even better than hard kisses and tight grips. She had to know, because somewhere between hair forks and cobbler they’d recaptured that sexual tension from last night, and it was too good not to explore.

What’s the worst that could happen? They were both adept enough to manage polite forbearance for the next couple of months to get what they really wanted.

“I’m scared to ask what you’re thinking,” he said.

She wet her upper lip again, and he groaned and when she crawled across the sectional toward him, he shifted to face her and put his hands up to hold her off. “What are you doing?”

She stopped. Close, but pushing the limits. “You wanted to kiss me last night.”

He lowered his hands. “No.”