He got closer apparently unsurprised I knew all of this. “Okay, we don’t have things to talk about. We have things to do,” he said.
My belly fluttered.
“Like what?”
“Like finish what we started this morning.”
I knew that was what he was going to say.
“That’s not gonna happen.”
“Yes. It is.”
“No. It… is… not.”
“You gonna come in here and get some food or what?” Nick shouted.
“Yeah,” I called.
Vance’s arms tightened.
“Let me go,” I said to Vance, going back to my quiet voice.
His hand fisted in my wet hair, held my head steady and he kissed me.
Oh crap.
This was not good.
I resisted and it worked for a few beats then his mouth opened over mine, mine automatically opened to let in his tongue and the minute it slid inside my mouth I melted into him and kissed him back.
Almost as quickly as it began, it ended and I felt of surge of disappointment.
His head came up and he looked down at me. “I’m gonna have you Jules,” he promised and at his promise, tingles rushed across my skin in a very a pleasant way. Then he let me go, turned me and gave me a little push toward the hall.
I walked into Nick’s living room. Nick was lying full-out on his couch.
“Hey Jules,” Nick said, grinning at me.
“Would you like your hemlock now or should I put it in the Thanksgiving turkey?” I asked Nick, throwing myself in an armchair. Boo jumped up in my lap and out of habit I began to stroke him. He settled in and began to purr.
“Like you’re cookin’ the Thanksgiving turkey. Please,” Nick returned, his eyes sliding to the TV.
Vance settled into another armchair. He nabbed a can of pop from the coffee table that he’d obviously been drinking and sat back, crossing a scuffed, cowboy-booted ankle on his knee.
“Jules doesn’t cook. You should know that. Kitchen plus food plus Jules equals disaster,” Nick told Vance.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Vance responded, his eyes cutting to me and there wasn’t any anger there anymore, just amusement.
“Nick. Shut up,” I said and I was sure my eyes still had anger in them.
“She can be rude sometimes too,” Nick shared, his gaze never leaving the TV.
“I’ve already learned that,” Vance said.
I leaned forward and grabbed a slice of pizza from the open box sitting on the coffee table. I took a big bite, chomping on it and deciding to watch the football and ignore both of them.
“She makes a killer margarita though,” Nick went on, a font of Juliet Lawler information and happy to impart it on anyone.