Jonquils for Jax (Blueberry Lane 3 - The Rousseaus #1) - Katy Regnery Page 0,35

little that she said that, because, surprisingly, it had felt like a bigger deal to him. He hadn’t kissed someone in a long time, and kissing her had felt so…right.

She was still staring up at him, waiting for him to answer. He folded his arms across his chest and forced an expression of boredom, like he kissed gorgeous neighbors every day.

“Sure. Sometimes friends kiss each other,” he said, unable to keep a bite out of his tone.

Still watching him, she opened the door and took a step back onto his porch. “There’s still some light. You don’t need to walk me home.”

“Whatever you want,” he said, hating his weakness when his glance slipped to her still-slick lips. He looked away quickly.

“So, um, good night?” she whispered, her voice ending on a little squeak.

He looked up at her, catching the uncertainty in her eyes, the way she searched his face like she was looking for something. And damned if he knew what it was. She didn’t want an apology, and hell, he’d wanted to kiss her from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on her, dressed like a duchess in the moonlight. So fine, he’d gotten his kiss and he wouldn’t apologize for it. But clearly, kissing him hadn’t meant anything to her. Which was fine. She was probably one of those rich chicks who kissed guys for sport. It didn’t matter that it was the sweetest kiss he’d ever had. She wasn’t into it being anything more than a blip. Good. Fine. It would be that much easier for him to be sure it didn’t happen again.

“’Night, Duchess.”

She paused, looking like she wanted to say something else, but when she finally did, it was just to confirm her next self-defense lesson. “See you Wednesday? At three?”

He nodded curtly in response.

Then she turned, stepped down the porch steps, and disappeared into the dying light.

***

Jax dreamt of Gardener.

His hands on her skin.

His tongue in her mouth.

The hardness of his erection pressed against her jeans.

She woke up in the half-light of early dawn, her fingers already under her panties, sliding into her soaked folds, her breathing shallow and quick. She could still feel the heat of his lips on hers, the hot skin of his neck under her fingertips, the strength of his arms around her. It didn’t take long for her to orgasm, her head sinking into the pillow and hips bucking off the bed as she came. She licked her dry lips as her breathing slowed to normal, listening to the rain outside and wondering when it had started.

Her walk back to Le Chateau last night had been cool but dry, her mind whirling as she’d walked alone in the twilight reliving every second of their kiss. She’d wanted him to kiss her since Saturday, and now he had, but it hadn’t quenched her thirst for him. All she wanted was more.

She was lying through her teeth when she said that it was no big deal. But she couldn’t bear his apology, and even though he’d said he wasn’t sorry, his eyes had said otherwise. He was sorry. She could tell. All she’d wanted to do was take the pressure out of the situation and let him know she was cool enough to kiss a man and not expect anything else. Better to beat him to the punch and let him know it didn’t mean anything rather than bear the humiliation of his regret.

But it had meant something. A lot of something. In fact, it was by far the best kiss she’d ever had.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and sighed, remembering her surprise when he’d suddenly bent his head and captured her lip between his, gently tugging and pulling before letting it go and loving the other. And when his tongue had slipped between her lips? Ah, merde. She’d wanted it to go on forever. If he hadn’t stopped, she might have stayed all night long, a thought that made her shiver with longing.

After their workout, when his body had—ah-hem—showcased his attraction to her, she thought that maybe they were both interested in something more…but no. It had just been biology, not a specific interest in her. He was just a big flirt, and he probably had that reaction whenever he worked out with a woman. If she’d been the lady her mother had raised, she wouldn’t have noticed it. Frowning, she rolled to her side and beat her pillow into submission with her fist before laying