I was right by the counter. I backed up a step and my h*ps ran into it.
“You don’t have to break in, you know. You could knock on the front door like a normal person,” I told him as he arrived at me.
I thought he’d stop but he didn’t, not until he got into my space, way into my space. So into my space I could feel the heat from his body and he leaned into me, putting his hands on the counter on either side of me.
I leaned back and tilted my head to look up at him. “Hello? Crowe? Are you in the room?”
“Shut up,” he said and I blinked then my eyes narrowed.
“What did you just say?”
Then his head dropped, his mouth hit mine and he kissed me. He didn’t touch me, not with his body or his hands though I was acutely aware of the position of both.
No, he touched me only with his mouth and kept me locked to him there using his macho man tractor beam in cahoots with his talented tongue and the good butterflies got an advantage.
His head moved away an inch and he murmured, “Tequila.”
Fuck.
Sucking face with a recovering alcoholic after a shot of some serious spirits was probably not a good thing.
“Crowe –” I said.
His head dropped again and he ran his tongue across my lower lip.
I stopped breathing.
“I like it,” he said low and he moved back a fraction and looked at my body then up to my eyes. “I like all of it.” Then he came in close again and his face did the same. “You look good, you taste good.” His mouth came closer and his eyes stared into mine. “I bet other places taste even better.”
Oh my God.
The good butterflies started to beat the shit out of the bad butterflies.
I pulled back a bit. “I’m sorry about the tequila. I had some friends over…” I partially lied, not about to impart the information on him that I needed liquid courage for our date.
“Jules, people drink. I don’t. Don’t worry about it,” he said like he wasn’t worried about it at all.
“Okay,” I replied softly.
Then he did something strange. His hand lifted and he ran his fingers through my hair at the side of my head all the way down the back. Then he pulled some over my shoulder and started to play with it, twisting one of Indy’s curls around his fingers just above my breast all the while he watched his hand as if his mind was somewhere else.
It felt nice. It sent tingles along my scalp and skin, sexy tingles but something else too, something warmer, sweeter.
“Vance?”
His eyes came to mine and I realized his mind was not somewhere else.
I swallowed.
Then I asked, “Are we going out or what?”
He grinned, his fingers still playing with my hair and I could feel the heat from his hand on my chest.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Shouldn’t we, like, go?” I went on.
He kept grinning. “Yeah,” he repeated.