to do.
He set his phone to the side, the soft light giving them at least a little illumination for what was about to happen, and put both hands on her waist and lifted her up onto the table. He was impressed. The thing didn’t even wobble. It was nice and solid. Perfect.
Stepping between her knees, he ran his hand up her back again and urged her forward into another kiss.
“Damn you, Jake,” she muttered against his lips, her hand sliding over his chest and her knees tightening around his waist.
He chuckled. She didn’t like reacting to him, but she couldn’t help it. He loved that. More than he should.
He never should have kissed her in the basement at city hall. Up until then, he’d been fine. He hadn’t thought of her more than every single time he came home to Chance before that kiss. But since then . . . well, it wasn’t quite every day. More like 362 days a year.
But it wasn’t like he sat around Kansas City pining for her. He wasn’t pathetic. He dated, he had sex—he had lots of sex—with other women. He didn’t have a picture of Avery, he didn’t know if she had any allergies, and he didn’t know what kind of pizza she preferred. He wasn’t stalking her.
He did know that she wore vanilla-flavored lip gloss, that her skin was the softest he’d ever felt, and that one deep sigh from her could make him harder than the best dirty talk from any other woman. But he wasn’t obsessed or anything.
He did, however, like the idea that whenever she walked through the town square—which was every day—she’d think of him and the time he’d kissed her there. Or that every time she went by the high school football field—again, every day—she’d think of him and the time he’d kissed her there.
Yes, it was all about his damned ego. The thing had a way of getting him into trouble. But it absolutely would not let him continue to ignore the one and only woman to ever dump him.
Jake felt his tie loosen, then slide free from his collar. He grinned. He knew what she was going to think about when she walked by this storage shed from now on.
He ran his hand up and down her back, kissing her softly as she undid the buttons of his shirt. He hadn’t kissed her sweetly like that since their first kiss all those years ago. Now when he surprised her in Chance, it was always a nice, hot, deep, wet one to keep her nerves humming for a while after he was gone.
The sweet kissing was nice.
She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, and he had to move his hands to let it fall to the floor. It occurred to him briefly to worry about it getting dirty on the shed’s floor, but Avery’s hands went to his fly, and he suddenly didn’t give a damn about anything but getting her hands on more of him. And getting his hands on more of her.
As the zipper of his pants went down, so did the zipper on the side of her dress.
The silky green material parted, and he had to pause to stroke his hand over the smooth skin of her back.
He immediately noticed the lack of a bra in his way. And was very thankful for that unencumbered path.
“God, A. You feel so damned good.”
Her hand slid into the front of his pants, along the length of his erection. “Ditto,” she muttered. She increased her pressure. “Dammit.”
She didn’t want to want him. That was no surprise. That she couldn’t fight her desire was . . . awesome.
He slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders and down her arms. She pulled her arms free to let the straps fall. Whether she liked it or not, she was all in.
Without a bra in the way, she was naked from the waist up in only a few seconds. He cussed the lack of full lighting. But he had plenty of other senses left.
His hand explored every detail of one bare breast as he leaned in, kissing her again, much less sweetly this time.
Her fingers sunk into his hair as she kissed him back, arching into his hand. He dragged his thumb over her stiff nipple, and she made a delicious sound in the back of her throat.
Her hands dropped between them, cupping his erection with both hands this time, stroking firmly up and down, the friction