The Happy Ever After Playlist - Abby Jimenez Page 0,32

she said, biting her lip. Her back bumped into the garage and she looked up at me like a rabbit frozen in the grass near a fox, trying to decide if it should stay still or bolt.

I stopped two feet short, not wanting to corner her. “I’d like to kiss you good night, Sloan.”

She didn’t move, but her eyes dropped to my mouth.

The air between us felt charged.

The imprint of her still lingered on my skin. I could feel the press of her thighs, the weight of her soft body. Her perfume clung to me like fingers twisted into my shirt, drawing me toward her again.

“Come here,” I said, my voice low.

The command activated her. She flew at me.

I caught her in a swirl of her floral scent, and she practically climbed me. My lips were on hers in a second. Warm and wet, mint and raspberries on her tongue. The smell of her skin drove me fucking insane. Sweet honeysuckle drifted up around me and ensconced us.

I hooked a hand under the leg she had hiked up against me and lifted her so she straddled my waist. She dragged her hands through my hair and when she gasped, I let her come up for air and trailed my mouth along her jaw and down her neck.

She tilted her head back and let out a soft moan and I almost lost it.

That guy at the gas station had been right, we did need a room.

I staggered us toward her front door. Then suddenly she was wiggling away from me, her feet back on the ground. She put her hand to my chest, making space between us. She panted and her wide eyes flickered back down to my lips, and it looked for a second like she might reconsider, but instead she launched herself off me, turned, and tore full speed into the house.

The door slammed, the bolt lock clicked behind her, followed by the rake of the chain, and I stood alone in her walkway for a whiplashed moment in my rumpled shirt, my hair a mess, catching my breath.

Jesus Christ. What the fuck just happened?

It was like I’d been sucked into a tornado made of animal magnetism, tossed around, and then spit out alone in front of her house.

I had to adjust the front of my pants.

Goddamn, this woman had me. It was more than just physical. She fucking had me. I didn’t even want to leave. I felt like scratching on her door like a dog wanting to be let in.

Tucker whined at the house through the open window of my truck.

“Yeah, I know, buddy,” I breathed. “I wish I were in there too.”

I drove home and poured myself a bourbon.

Sloan.

She liked my music. It hadn’t even occurred to me how much that mattered until it came out. I wanted her to like it. Her opinion meant something. I wanted her to like everything about me.

This wasn’t just some woman. I’d suspected it when we’d been talking on the phone, but now I knew it. This was big, different from anything I’d ever felt. It was like the first time I’d picked up a guitar, that same sense of certainty.

I stripped down for bed, climbed under the covers, and sat up against my headboard, my cell in my hand. Tucker was always the safest topic. I started typing.

Jason: Tucker misses you.

She didn’t make me wait.

Sloan: He’s just claustrophobic in that lunch box. Let him out.

I laughed.

Jason: I really enjoyed our date.

Sloan: Me too.

Then I decided to take a risk.

Jason: You’re not mad I kissed you? I know you have rules about first dates.

A long pause ensued before she replied. When the dots started to jump, I sat up to wait for her text to come through, throwing back the rest of my whiskey.

Sloan: I’m beginning to think the rules don’t apply to you. Good night, Jason.

Chapter 13

Jason

? Make You Mine | Public

I couldn’t get Sloan out of my head, which was unfortunate, because I also couldn’t get her on the phone. She didn’t return my good-morning text until 1:00 in the afternoon, and when she did, all I got was a quick smiley face.

I unpacked and did laundry. Had a phone call with my new publicist, Pia, to schedule a meeting. I had a ton of media to do before my upcoming tour. TV, radio, magazine interviews. Sirius XM wanted an a cappella recording by the end of the week for its Coffee House channel. Saturday Night Live