You're leaving soon. You live in a whole different world. My baggage really goes against that world—"
"We're talking about a damn kiss, not a flaming af—"
"I'm at least six years—" almost more, as of next month "—older than you are!"
His steely blue eyes narrowed with sleepy, sensual intent. "And you're hot as hell, especially when you're fired up."
He slid off her glasses.
Oh.
His mouth covered hers.
Double oh.
Dry lightning didn't just crackle overhead, it snapped through her veins and along her skin until even the roots of her hair tingled from pure sensation. She wanted to attribute it to his incredible technique so she could distance herself by labeling him a player. But he wasn't even moving. Neither was she. They just stood for a frozen second, lips brushing, holding.
Then he reached, fingers banding around her arms—good thing or she would have fallen smack on her butt. And, oh my, he moved, slanting his mouth over hers and drawing her flush against him, leather and muscle and man imprinted against her. She'd been so long without a man, without comfort and kisses, she hadn't even realized how much she'd missed until seeing a certain flyboy strut toward her on a crowded flight line. She'd been dead inside.
Not anymore.
Nerve endings fired back to life with a near-painful intensity. Touching lightning hurt.
And enthralled.
Her hands flew up to grip his jacket, fingers twisting in leather while her mouth parted under his. His low growl shivered through her, emboldening her to meet the bold sweep of his tongue. Right now she couldn't seem to scrounge for reasons to worry about age differences, past problems and current concerns. Her fingers inched up leather to his shoulders, farther still into his hair, caressing along the bristly short cut at the nape of his neck.
So much for self-control and restraint.
She eased back to whisper against his mouth, "Did you kiss me first or did I kiss you?"
"I don't know." The hot breath of his answer steamed along oversensitized nerves. "But I'm damn sure going to kiss you first now."
His face lowered toward her as she arched up on her toes for more. Much more. Yeah, maybe they could spend the next two weeks necking on her front porch, in the plane and the barn, too. And, hey, the swing hanging from their lone oak tree even sounded fun when she thought about draping herself over his lap and swaying through the air while her senses soared. Of course she would probably incinerate in two days, but what a way to go.
He eased back, staring down with such intensity and not even a hint of arrogant victory, which would have made it easy to punt him off her property pronto. Unless he was a consummate actor, he was shaken, affected, on fire as much as she.
"What do we do next?" She dipped her fingers under his collar along the strong column of his neck, already regretting what she should do next, half hoping he could persuade her, anyway.
"Unless you tell me very clearly otherwise, you go inside and I return to base alone."
He wasn't going to push. That helped, and didn't all at once.
"I wish..." She could be different, impulsive, less afraid and more daring, that she could indulge in carefree sex. "I wish."
He tucked her glasses in place again. "Me, too."
Backing away, he slid the key from the railing as her hand trailed down his arm to let the moment linger just a little while longer. Bo angled past her, up the steps and jammed the key into the bolt. Before he could twist the lock, the door swung wide.
What?
The door should be locked. Seth couldn't have forgotten.
Tension radiated from Bo for one foreshadowing second before his arm shot out to bar her from entering. "Get back, Paige. Now."
Foreboding scoured her gut. She tucked to the side of the porch post, a quick glance over his shoulders revealing...
Destruction.