It Was Only a Kiss

‘You are such a chicken,’ Jess said, and made a clucking sound.

He shouldn’t even be tempted. It was such a childish thing to do. Jess did her clucking sound again and he glared at her. ‘I take it your brothers taught you to slide down banisters?’

‘Who else? We have a long staircase at home. We used to put a mattress at the bottom of the stairs...shall I drag one down from the bedroom for you?’

‘I am not sliding down the bloody banister,’ Luke growled.

Jess hooted. ‘You’ve thought about it a couple of times. Just do it. Go big or go home.’

Luke shook his head. ‘You are such a brat.’

A man could only take so much when challenged by a woman, he thought. All his life he’d run up these stairs and slid down. The last time he’d done it had been a couple of weeks before his father’s death.

He squinted down at Jess, who was still silently laughing at him. ‘A chicken, huh?’

‘Cluck, cluck, cluck.’

‘Mmm. Well, if I meet your challenge then you have to meet mine.’

‘And what would that be?’ Jess asked, suddenly wary.

Luke grinned. He pushed her hair off her forehead and placed his hand on her cheekbone. ‘I get to kiss you.’

Jess’s eyes smoked over. ‘You just did,’ she pointed out with a hitch in her voice.

Luke shook his head. ‘Again. No holds barred.’

‘It’s not a good idea, Luke.’

‘Cluck, cluck, cluck.’ See—he could make chicken noises too.

Jess scowled at him, but he felt her acquiescence before he heard her muttered agreement. It seemed that she couldn’t resist a challenge either. Then he felt the sting of her hand on his rump.

‘Let’s see how the master does it.’

Luke grinned, stepped away from her and jogged up the stairs. He placed one buttock on the banister and suddenly he was ten again and flying. He let out a huge whoop as he gained speed. He was flying off the end... Oh, hell. At the last moment he remembered to bend his knees, and he landed awkwardly but safely.

He placed his hands on his thighs and grinned up at Jess. ‘I’m out of practice. That was less than elegant.’

Jess placed a hand on his back and patted him. ‘I’d say. Now, what’s for supper? I’m starving.’

Jess started to walk away, and his hand shot out and snagged the pocket of her jeans. She stopped mid-stride and swore softly.

‘Are you welshing on our bet?’ Luke demanded, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in the crook of her neck.

Jess hauled in a breath. He smelt so good—that perfect combination of man and deodorant, sexiness and skin. He spun her around, placed his hands on either side of her slender waist and pulled her towards him. He captured her yelp of surprise in his mouth and, while her mouth was open, slid into the kiss. She could feel his fingers curling into her hips, the pads of his fingers branding her through her clothes as he re-explored her mouth. She’d been thinking about this kiss—and more—for the past three weeks. Hell, for the past eight years.

It didn’t disappoint. He didn’t disappoint.

Unable, unwilling to stop, Luke threaded both his hands into her hair, tipping her head to allow him deeper access, pushing his body closer to hers. He sighed when her arms encircled his waist, the palms of her hands flat against his back under his shirt to explore those ridges of muscle, that heated skin.

She wanted him...wanted to take this kiss further, she thought as he placed tiny kisses on her cheek, her jaw, pulled the neck of her jersey down to scrape his teeth against the tendon in her neck. He feathered his fingers against her ribcage and Jess succumbed to temptation and twisted into his hand.

Luke, hearing her soft whimper, bent his legs and, placing his hands under her thighs, lifted her up.

Jess instinctively gripped his waist with her thighs, vaguely aware that he had her against the wall. She felt the icy bricks against her back when he yanked her shirt up and over her head. His eyes heated as he stared down at her breasts, covered by a lacy lilac bra.

‘You’re exquisite.’

Jess couldn’t find any moisture in her mouth to swallow. If she wiggled she’d go off like a cracker.

‘Luke...’

‘What?’ Luke muttered, his mouth against hers. ‘Rip my clothes off? Take me now?’

She wished she could say it. Wished she could surrender to him, lose herself in his arms. But that would require her handing over a smidgeon of control, and even that would be too much. Luke had the ability to overwhelm her, and she wasn’t prepared to risk feeling vulnerable...being vulnerable.

It took everything to drop her legs and unhook her arms from his waist. She wiggled out from under him and left him facing the wall, his forearm above his head.