apartment. The two-bedroom layout of all three floors was identical, and he wasted no time looking around Avery’s place.
Not when she was the reason he was here. And when he had the choice between looking at her furnishings and watching the set of her shoulders, the sway of her hips, the way she shook back her hair as she walked.
He caught the groan rolling up from his gut and stepped into her kitchen. She snagged a corkscrew from a drawer, turned and handed it to him. He took it and placed it on the countertop next to the bottle of wine. And then he hooked an elbow around Avery’s neck and tugged her body flush to his.
“I’m starving,” he said, his forehead resting on hers as his lips brushed the corner of hers and tickled her cheek.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” she answered, her hands moving to his waist, settling there at his belt instead of unbuckling it as she wanted to. She nuzzled her nose to his. “We can start with the wine and the salad.”
“Sounds good.” It sounded awful compared to starting with her mouth. And so he did, opening his lips over hers, which parted willingly.
He swallowed her whimper, devoured her desire, swept his tongue through her mouth and backed her into the countertop. She pulled him with her, urging him closer than the distance he’d forced himself to keep.
He settled his weight fully against her slight frame, wanting more than anything to explore their fit without bright overhead lights glaring down and too many layers of clothing between.
When the tension in the room grew too razor sharp to bear, he eased away slowly, first his body, then his arm from her neck and finally his mouth from hers. He wasn’t going anywhere; they had a long night ahead. The possibilities held by the next few hours were worth a trip taken minute by minute.
And so he let Avery go, and opened the wine.
CHAPTER SIX
DAVID POURED the wine while Avery set bowls of salad and a spouted serving boat of dressing on the table. He’d told her he was a fan of buttermilk ranch and would’ve been fine pouring straight from the bottle.
Avery, however, had insisted on completing her well-set table. He didn’t know if the effort was meant to impress him or to keep their evening structured within whatever boundaries she’d set—a strange thought considering the way she’d so easily welcomed his tongue and his body, but there it was.
And now here he was, sitting directly across from her at the rectangular table designed for six, a linen napkin in his lap, his salad bowl centered on his plate. He felt as if he were taking an Emily Post test. One wrong use of a fork, and bam! He was history.
He lifted his wineglass as Avery reached for the salad dressing. “Are you practicing for Saturday night’s dinner party?” he asked.
She frowned, offering him the serving boat before she picked up her drink. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, no. Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re sitting all the way over there.” He finished with the dressing, returned it to the center of the table. “The food’s not the only thing I’m wanting to get my hands on, you know.”
She sipped at her wine, her eyes downcast as she said, “David, I’ve been thinking that it might be a good idea if we keep our distance. At least for a while.”
“When were you thinking that?” he asked after several seconds passed, his tone sharper than he’d intended. “Before or after you kissed me ten minutes ago?”
Color stained her cheeks. “Before, actually.”
“I see,” he said, stabbing up a forkful of shredded and cubed greens. A sharp burst of bell pepper kept his mouth closed when he wanted to say a whole lot more.
“I’m not sure you do see,” Avery was saying when her hesitation finally forced his attention away from his salad.
“Oh, well. Feel free to enlighten me then.” He’d come here with high expectations, yes, and they’d grown higher the longer the kiss. Now he felt as if he and Avery were back in high school and that he was putting his foot in his mouth the way he’d always done when around her.
She set her wineglass on the table, moved her hands to her lap. “You were right earlier today. What you said. About us not being ready to sleep together.”
This time he refused to look up, certain that she’d already made up her mind, closed herself