to turn down.” He set down the two cans of paint he’d carried inside and took the last from her. “But I don’t mind. I appreciate it, really. It’s more than generous.”
“I know she likes to feel helpful.” She set down the plastic bag of supplies and looked around. “Were you serious about painting tonight?” Her shoulders felt tight, her nerves on edge from being alone with him again. The last thing she wanted to do was roll up her sleeves and grab a paintbrush.
“Not really.” He slipped off his jacket and tossed it onto a chair. “Unless you want to.”
She pulled her hair off her neck. “Not really,” she echoed.
“Let me get a fire going.” He crouched down and crumpled newspaper into the stone fireplace. “Help yourself to a beer,” he said over his shoulder.
She found a six-pack in the fridge and popped the tops off two bottles. She opened a few cupboard doors but couldn’t locate any glasses, just plates and bowls and a few dusty canisters that looked like they hadn’t held anything in a while. She returned to the living room.
“Your mom’s a fantastic cook.” He took the beer she handed him as tiny flames caught.
“I know. That’s half the reason I still go to dinner there.”
Dash stood to his full height, a few inches taller than she, and leaned against the wall. “What’s the other half?”
She took a long drink. “Ah, family and all that. We’ve always been close. It killed my parents when I moved out after college. They didn’t see any reason for me to spend good money on rent when I could just live at home.” She ducked her chin. “I did stay until last year. Then I figured at twenty-five it was time to leave the nest.”
He didn’t say anything, and she looked up. “I know. I’m awfully sheltered.”
“I was thinking you’re awfully lucky. Not a lot of people have that kind of relationship with their parents.”
“But you’ve done so much!” she blurted out. “Traveled across the country, lived on your own, started a business...”
The look on his face changed. “Doing a lot doesn’t make me a better person, Sienna. It just means that’s where I ended up.”
“I guess.”
“Besides, you’re about to go on this grand adventure out of the country. I’ve never done anything like that.”
Right. London. A grand adventure. She took another swallow of beer. The fire caught and grew behind them.
“You excited?” His voice was gruff.
“Of course. Scared, too, but now I know how to defend myself against sketchy street criminals, so...” She flexed one arm and struck a self-defense pose. “No one better mess with me.”
He laughed. “I don’t think anyone will.”
Except you. I want you to.
He looked at her for a long minute in silence. Then he set his beer aside. “I’ll miss you.”
Her heart stopped. “I’ll miss you too.” She set her own beer next to his on the side table. “But I’m not leaving for another two months.”
“Good.” He took her in his arms again, and there were no teachers walking around the corner or mothers bursting through the door to interrupt them. He brushed his lips to hers, as if to tease, and his hands tightened on her hips. She slipped her arms around his neck, wanting this, wanting him, wanting everything she could imagine and then some.
Tonight.
It would happen tonight, finally, with the most amazing man in the world.
DASH COULD BARELY CONTROL himself. She tasted better than his memory, and this time there was no holding back. Her hands went to the back of his neck, pulling his mouth closer, her tongue inviting his, and a groan escaped from deep inside him. They wouldn't even make it to the bedroom if she kept this up. He cupped her ass in his palms, fusing her to him. There was no mistaking his want, and he knew the moment she felt him, the moment he settled against her and her hips made the smallest motion of acquiescence.
He slid his mouth down her neck, feeling the smooth skin inch by inch. Her head fell back and her breath hitched, turning him on in ways that hadn’t happened since he was a teenager.
“Dash, oh...”
He loved it. He loved feeling her in his arms, hearing her loss of control, knowing it matched his own.
Then she stopped and pulled away.
“What? Did I do something wrong?” He held her at arms’ length, trying to interpret the troubled look on her face. “I’m sorry. I thought—”
“It’s not you.”
“Then...”
“I have to