To Catch A Player

Devour.

It was meant to be a short kiss, like the one in the parking lot—just a small tease to remind just how good even a little taste could be between us. But that’s not what happened when my lips touched hers. Lights went off, blinding at first, and then in a rainbow of colors that heated my skin and made the taste of her more vibrant on my tongue.

Reese moaned into my mouth and pressed her body into mine, and my cock went from stirring to wide awake and ready to take care of business. My hands moved like they were possessed, on a mission to memorize every dip and curve of her body, all the spots I remembered that would make her moan. Cry. Purr. Her hands clung to my shoulders, and then those nimble fingers found their way to my hairline, playing and making me shiver as her own tongue began to tease.

I deepened the kiss and held her close, tightly because I couldn’t do anything but. Her curves, her hips felt right in my hands and her lips felt perfect on mine. Hot and fiery, just it should be.

Then she moaned again and pulled back, licking a trail of heat up my neck until she nibbled my ear. “Fuck,” I growled and took a step back. “Did you hear that?”

Reese blinked out of her lust-induced fog and shook her head. “I didn’t hear anything.” But her eyes were wide and her chest heaved; even she was shocked by the force of the heat and chemistry between us.

“That feels pretty damn right to me.”

She licked her lips and glared at the same time before she pointed a finger at me. “Come back tomorrow. You can help then.”

I smiled, because it was progress. “Excellent. I’ll bring the wine.”

“Water,” she said to my back as I made my way toward the front door. “Bring water, because we’ll be working. Not kissing. Not anything but working.”

I opened the door and barked out a laugh.

“What’s so funny about—what’s that?” She pointed at the small brown box with the loose flaps.

I parted the flaps and laughed again. “Wine and chocolate cake. Guess I don’t need to bring the wine, after all.” I smiled up at Reese.

She responded with a glare of her own.ReeseDamn Jackson, just damn him all to hell for getting in my head. For trying to get into my pants. Again. And most of all, damn him for kissing me again just to prove that I wanted him. Yeah, I wanted him, so what? Big deal. I wanted Chris Hemsworth, too, but you didn’t see me making a big deal about it, did you? No, because I was a grown-up. An adult who was more than capable of keeping her emotions in check.

Under control.

And in the spirit of that control, there would be no kissing tonight. None. No kissing and no touching and definitely no nudity. Or sex. There would be cooking and stirring, chopping and sautéing. Nothing more.

To that end, I took a quick shower and I didn’t take the time to blow dry my hair, opting for the steam treatment provided by the overheated kitchen. I wore old, slightly baggy jeans and a ratty T-shirt that was almost two sizes too big. It could never in a million years be construed as sexy, which meant I was safe.

There would be no making out. Just meat—no, just ribs and barbecue sauces.

Nothing else, no matter what those damn meddling matchmakers thought they were doing by dropping off that little box of romance. It wasn’t happening, no matter how much that kiss made my toes curl and my heart race. No matter that my palms were sweaty when I locked the door behind him.

Jackson was a runner. A heartbreaker, and I’d already had enough of that to last several lifetimes. So, no kissing. I repeated that to myself at least fifty times in the hour before Jackson was due to arrive, while I got ready for him to show up.

Not that I did anything special for him, but I did make chili in the slow cooker with nacho fixings, since this was still a volunteer mission for him. And that thought brought a smile to my face just as the doorbell sounded. I dried my hands and turned the slow cooker to the lowest setting then put the two pots on the stove on simmer, the smile still on my face because it all finally made sense.

Jackson didn’t want me. He was bored. The Hometown Heroes calendar had turned into much more than that, it was now a whole civic endeavor and the poor guy probably hadn’t anticipated it. He was flirting and kissing out of boredom, not actual interest. I ignored the twinge of disappointment in my chest as I made my way toward the door and the still-ringing bell. This wasn’t about my ego.