come up empty.
“Oh, here.” Tiger takes a tentative step toward me, then holds her hand out with the towel dangling from her fingers.
“Thanks.” I blot my face. Crap, it still burns. I turn toward her, and she gasps. “What?”
“Your eye is …”
“What?”
Her lips go between her teeth.
“Tell me, damn it.”
“Is still in your head.” Her cheeks hollow like she’s trying not to laugh.
“Go ahead, laugh it up. You know they call me the hundred-million-dollar man. You got a hundred million to buy out my contract if I’m blinded?”
“You’re not blind. Come, sit, and let me have a look.”
I drop into the chair and spread my legs, and she steps between them. Her cool fingers gently prod around my eye. And all of a sudden, I’m very happy that she assaulted my eye with tomato juice. “How does it look, doc?” I bite back a groan when her fingernails scrape against my skin as she pushes my hair off my forehead.
“I think you’ll live.” Her warm, sweet breath fans across my face. The outside of her thighs brush against the inside of mine and the friction is a good sort of torture.
I thread my fingers through her hair and hold her head in my hands. “What do I owe you?” The words are as weak as McKay’s downfield pass.
She doesn’t say anything for a very long moment, and I worry that I’ve misread the situation. I start to release her head, but then her lips land on mine. It’s nothing like that puny excuse for a kiss we shared in Brad’s office, but it’s not ravenous or wild either. It’s as gentle as a long-awaited reunion. Good thing too, because I’ve waited fifteen years to put my lips on hers like this, and I will not be rushed.
A closed-mouth kiss for the years I burned for her in high school.
A lick at the seam of her lips for when I almost had her and lost her.
A nip and scrape of my teeth on her soft skin for the years her memory stood between me and any other woman.
And finally, my tongue mates with hers, because I’ve dreamed of my mouth on hers for as long as I’ve known her.
I’ve never kissed Tiger Lyons like this before, and within seconds, I can’t remember kissing anyone else.
A squeal from outside yanks both of us from the moment. Our eyes fly open at the same time. And her grin mirrors the one I know is spread across my face.
I loop a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Her hands cup my face. “That was nice.”
“Nice?” I raise my brows. “Baby, I must not have been doing it right if all you can say is that it was nice.”
She drops her forehead to mine. “Anything more than that might’ve resulted in the loss of clothing.”
Hoo-lee shit. I take a couple of quick breaths like I do when it’s third and goal, and I’m about to surge into the end zone. I’m going for it, but I could get my ass handed to me. “How about later?”
Two quick pats of her hand on my cheek, then she straightens. “Maybe yes, maybe no, QB.” She moves to the back door and glances back at me. “We’ll see.”
The back door slams, and the dare in those two words hangs in the air. She must’ve forgotten who she’s talking to because I eat challenges like that for breakfast.
She doesn’t know it yet, but Tiger Lyons is mine.
Thirty-Six
Tiger
“Why is your face so red, Miss Tiger?” Marci glances up from a game of checkers she and Misty are playing on the back porch. “Did you get tomato juice in your eye too?”
I duck my head to hide what I know is a scarlet stripe across my cheeks. “I’m fine.”
“Yes, sweetheart, you do look flushed. Are you sure you’re alright?” Elva says with a wink.
I narrow my eyes at the meddler, then hitch my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m going to make a call.”
The old bird laughs. “We’ll let you know when supper’s ready.”
I make my way down the porch steps and into the yard. My fingers punch the appropriate button to dial Maggie’s number.
“This better be good, Tiger. You know this is Piranha-hour.”
“I kissed Cash again.”
“Hang on.”
My fingers go to my lips, which are still warm from the thorough attention he gave my mouth.
“Okay, I’m back. I turned on a movie for the kids.” I hear a chair scrape against the floor on the other end of the line.