First

What I do next has no explanation. Momentary insanity. Death wish. Take your pick.

But my lips close around her finger and I suck the honey right off. I don’t look away from those brown eyes once, even as I use my tongue to lick free every last trace. Her breathing’s shallow, her pulse speeding, and when I finally release her, she doesn’t move.

I set the bottle down and move around the island, only one thought ricocheting around my skull. I cup her face in my hands and hers come up to clasp around my wrists. I brush my thumb over her freckles, and she tilts her face up to me in open invitation.

I am going to burn in hell. And I will regret nothing.

***

Dallas Miller has kissed me once before in my entire life. It was the day after graduation, when he was packed and ready to start his drive to Arizona. Jake and my parents hugged him and wished him well; he even endured a kiss from my mother. Then he reached me. I was busy reading a book and barely looked up at him. Which is why we misconnected and he ended up kissing the corner of my mouth instead of my cheek. It wasn’t anything but an embarrassing whoops back then, a junior high kid chagrined that her brother’s best friend might get the wrong idea. Right now that memory surges up with a vengeance.

Because when Dally kisses me, it’s in that exact spot, right at that soft, sensitive juncture. Requesting permission to clean the slate and start over, with a far different purpose in mind. My shiver is involuntary and I feel his lips curve into a smile against my skin as we cross that invisible line.

Now his mouth finds mine. He’s gentle, taking his time. I have never been kissed like this by anyone. I’ve never melted in a man’s arms, relying on his strength to keep me upright, as I focus every ounce of attention to the place where his skin meets mine.

When his mouth starts to part, I sigh against him and his tongue sweeps in against mine. My grip on his wrists tightens. He tastes like honey, hot and sweet with an edge of desperation. I feel his forearms tensing, the way he steps in closer to me, backing me into the island until his thighs barely brush against mine. And yet he controls himself so beautifully.

So much power under that skin, hidden beneath swirls and whorls of dark patterns. And he holds it in check for me. I smile at the thought and slide my hands along his arms, clutching at his biceps, digging my fingers into the fabric of his dress shirt, moving toward his shoulders, dragging him in closer.

He chuckles against my mouth and I take the opportunity, closing the final distance so I’m pressed against him. He shifts his hips and I feel his cock, hard and strong and huge.

I break off our kiss and look down. ‘You weren’t kidding about the extra-large, were you?’

His eyes are half-hooded, his smile lazily sensual, his thumb brushing my jawline in slow sweeps. ‘You say the nicest things, babe,’ he murmurs.

I smile up at him and go up on tiptoe to press my lips to his again, to prove to him how nice I can be, when the timer goes off. I swear with an oath I’ve only heard Dally use once since Jake made him promise to never say it in my presence again.

Dally tilts his head back, laughter spilling out as he holds me to him. When he pulls himself together, he presses his forehead to mine, nose against nose. ‘Food first. I don’t want to insult the beautiful woman who decided to cook me a fancy meal.’

The lobster turned out well. We eat at the kitchen table, like every other night. Dally even eats some of the salad, which I know he hates. And, like always, he makes me sit at the table as he does the dishes. Something strange is happening to me as I watch him standing at the sink, humming along with the song that’s come on the music station I found for tonight.

My carefully planned seduction is working, but I’m not sure why. Nothing feels that different, except for the memory of the fire that burned under my skin when he kissed me. But it’s still Dally being … Dally.

He finishes up the last plate and peers over his shoulder at me. ‘Anything else over there?’

I try to smile, but my mind’s still whirling. ‘Nope.’

He nods and shuts off the sink, drying his hands with the dish towel. I’ve always liked watching him dry off his hands. It’s all spare movements, economy of motion at its finest. I wonder if he takes the same approach in bed—

He holds out a hand to me, eyebrow raised, looking like he stepped out of one of my dreams.

This is it.

My breath isn’t totally even, but his fingers curl around mine when I take his hand. He pulls me to my feet, wrapping an arm around my waist. This kiss is light. His voice is not. ‘Where?’

He lets me lead him back to my bedroom. I leave him for a moment to collect my clean sheets from the dryer. He doesn’t say a word when I bring them back. Instead he helps me make my bed, smiling a little when I pause to smooth all the wrinkles out of the sheets. As I light the candles, he spots the black bag from our earlier shopping. He gets the lube and condoms from their boxes and sets them on my nightstand. He sits on my bed

and pats the spot next to him, an unexpected move.

My palms are sweating and my stomach’s flipping. This is actually going to happen.

When I finally sit beside him, he reaches up and grips my chin lightly. ‘Your show, babe. But if you stop telling me what you want, we’re done. Got it?’

‘Shut up and kiss me,’ I whisper.

This time he’s not slow. His kisses in the kitchen were simmering, slow burning. These are deeper, wetter, and much, much hotter. The tickle of his beard is divine torture. His hands roam over me, finding spots that make my breath come faster and my legs press together from the almost-electric contact.

He draws me down onto the bed, stretching an arm out under my head as we make out. My body wants this. Instinct kicks in and I keep shifting against him, trying to get closer. He’s taken his arm from under me, using it to lever himself up on his elbow. His chest settles over mine. His heat and scent are glorious, but I want more. I want his hips against mine. I want to feel his erection pressing against me like it did earlier in the kitchen. I want to know he wants this as badly as I do.