Don't Go Stealing My Heart - Kelly Siskind Page 0,83
counter. “I’m arguing with a sexy cat burglar.” He hummed a tune and pressed his lips to Clementine’s ear. “Don't go stealing my heart,” he sang.
She knew the melody— Elton John's “Don't Go Breaking My Heart.” The play on words was cute, but wariness undermined her mood. “Are you sure you’re not having second thoughts?” she asked tentatively.
Cat burglar. Stealing hearts. Jokes were often rooted in truth.
He rolled his hips forward, the hard length of him stating his desire. “Does it feel like I’m having second thoughts?”
Naughty boy. She costed her hands around his shoulders and down the hard muscles of his back. She squeezed his fine behind. “You’re sure?”
He kissed her lips, once, twice, a third time. “I know we can’t talk about your past in public, but I don’t want it to be an avoided topic between us. Doing that could turn it into something bigger. It could hurt us. So if I ask about your work or make a joke, that’s why.” He glanced down and gnawed on his bottom lip. “And I want you to be patient. Don’t expect everything to fall into place—friends, work, life in general. Don’t freak out if you have setbacks.”
“Okay,” she said, touched he cared so much.
His smolder returned. “Okay, meaning I can fuck you on this counter?”
That would so be happening, but she wanted more details. Every last one. “First tell me something that scares you.”
He kept her pinned to the counter, his brow puckering as he thought. With enough gravity to have her holding her breath, he said, “People who don’t eat bacon.”
She rolled her eyes. “Something that makes you angry.”
“People who don’t eat bacon.”
She flicked his ribs. “You’re not playing fair.”
“You asked and I answered. What makes you angry?”
“Men who get angry at people for not eating bacon. What if I was kosher?”
“Not the same thing.”
“Your idiot light is on the fritz again.”
He was full on smirking now, his dimples winking at her. “As bad as the first day we met?”
“So much worse.”
His current road sign would read: Beware of sexy idiot, life-changing words like love ahead. Could a person even fall in love this quickly? Or was this intensity her inexperience? The overwhelming feelings of basking in all things Jack, the first man to know her name and age and that she hated bacon? She gave her head a small shake and focused on what was real. What she wanted right now. “I recall you saying something about fucking me on this counter.”
“I did, didn’t I? I’m also rethinking my breakfast. There’s something else I’d like to eat.”
They forgot about fruit and yogurt. They forgot about the world as they dropped their clothes and Jack dropped to his knees. He spread her legs and turned her boneless in minutes, his skilled tongue and hands shredding her sense. Then he was in her, his hips unrelenting. He took charge again, telling her where and how to move, his end game always her. Her pleasure. Her release. Like her satisfaction was his foreplay.
Clementine floated through the rest of her morning until they were in Jack’s car, holding hands as he drove her to pick up her Prius.
“Move in with me,” he said abruptly, dropping the atomic bomb, like it was an ordinary conversation on any ordinary day.
The man had lost his marbles. “Did you hit your head during sex?”
“I did not.”
“Did you hold your breath too long when doing that thing with your tongue and now you’ve lost a few too many brain cells?”
Eyes on the road, he grinned a devilish grin. “You liked that thing?”
“It’s my new favorite thing.”
“Noted.” His phone chimed with a message. He ignored it and signaled a turn, humming while he drove. “So you’ll move in?”
“That would be insane.”
He yanked his car to the side of the road and parked. Someone honked and waved. Smallest town in the world.
Jack crowded her. “Insane is how badly I want to be inside you right now—again—but I have to work, then rehearse, then perform, then maybe work some more. If you’re not sleeping in my bed, I’m not sure when I’ll see you. And I need to see you.”
To reassure himself he’d made the right decision? Her insecurity resurfaced, and she mentally chastised herself. Their night and morning had been amazing. Because of their talk or in spite of it, she couldn’t say. Either way, each round between the sheets and in the kitchen had gotten better, more intimate. She’d be crazy to say no.