“Were you ever with her after she and Josh hooked up?”
“Define ‘with her.’”
Abby swallowed. “Did you sleep with her?”
“No.”
Relief flooded her body. She would have thought less of him for that.
“Kiss her?”
His gaze clung to hers. “Yes,” he answered, utterly honest and not looking away.
A million questions sprang into her mind. When? Why? How many times? “Is that why Josh is so angry with you?”
“Josh doesn’t know about it. And telling him won’t accomplish anything now. He’s been hurt enough.”
It almost sounded like Tom was trying to protect his cousin. Or maybe he was just protecting himself.
She lifted her chin for one last question. “Do you still feel guilty about it?”
“Every damn day.”
She should be turning away, avoiding what was bound to be complicated and messy.
“I lied. I have one more question.” Her heart seemed to sit in her throat as she licked her suddenly dry lips. “Are you ever going to kiss me again?” she asked softly.
“I shouldn’t.” He sighed. “I promised myself I wouldn’t. You complicate things for me, Abby.” Yet even as he said it, Tom’s fingers tightened on her shoulder, his head dipping closer to hers. Then, just when she thought she’d surely die of anticipation, he surrendered to the need they were both feeling and kissed her.
He tasted like morning coffee and man and she gave herself up, leaning her head back and opening her mouth wider in surrender. God, but the man knew how to kiss so that her knees turned to jelly. She forgot about her sunburn and how horrible her face must look and the tightness in her legs and pressed her hands to his chest, focusing instead on the feel of hard muscle beneath her palms.
Tom’s hands reached behind, cupping her bottom and pulling her close against him, the intimate contact sending a forbidden thrill rippling through her body.
“Won’t the other guys be here soon?” she murmured, tilting her head to one side as Tom grazed light kisses down the side of her neck, making goose bumps pop up on her skin.
“Not for another hour or so. They’re picking up the paint for the hall and stairway.”
“An hour…” she whispered, suddenly realizing that her fingers were playing over his T-shirt while his hips rubbed against hers.
This wasn’t just a kiss. This was foreplay.
“An hour,” he confirmed roughly.
She slipped her hands beneath his shirt, feeling the warm skin of his back before sliding them over his ribs and across his abs. He was so hard all over, and she let her fingertips explore each ridge and ripple until his breath grew ragged.
“Tom?”
His lips were by her ear and his warm breath sent delicious shivers down her spine as he answered, “Hmmm?”
“Are you thinking about her now?”
She knew the question could halt everything in its tracks. But she had to know. No matter where this led, she did not want to be a stand-in for Erin. She’d rather stop it right now and save herself a boatload of regret.
Tom straightened and gently cupped her cheeks in his palms. “I am not,” he answered. “I see you. I want you. You’re driving me crazy and I don’t know what to do about it.”
A purely feminine thrill rippled along her spine. “I want you, too,” she whispered, shocked to find it was true. Her fingertips played over the sensitive skin of his ribs and down over his hips, then slid beneath the back waistband of his jeans, just an inch or two, but enough to pull him more firmly against her.
“Dammit, Abby.” He let her go and reached behind his head for the neck of his T-shirt, pulling it off in one masculine motion that kicked her libido into overdrive.