it.”
She cleared her throat. “So am I.”
Chapter Seven
Jane was determined to not kiss Cole tonight.
She was going to have a beer with him; they were going to chat about Finn. About not letting him eat too much cookie dough and the swing—like, did he even know how to make one that wouldn’t fall down and kill her son—and the rugby clinic. Maybe the weather. Then she was going to get up, go inside, go to bed, and work on her laptop for a few hours. There were invoices and emails she hadn’t gotten to today.
Then she was going to sleep. That was it.
She couldn’t keep kissing him because she wanted to. She was an adult, not a horny teenage girl. There was too much going on in her life and too much on her plate She didn’t have the luxury of making out with guys on porches.
And it didn’t matter that him being here was allowing her to work or that he’d made her milk and cookies or that Finn was so damn happy it made her heart glow. So happy he hadn’t even asked when Tad was coming back the last couple of nights, like he had every day since his father had left him in Credence and hightailed it to Vegas. Tad, who had eventually responded to her where-the-hell-are-you voicemails with vague sorry-more-work-came-up-be-back-soon texting.
It didn’t matter, because it wasn’t right to kiss a man out of gratitude. Not that kind of kissing, anyway. And it sure as shit wasn’t right to fool herself into thinking that was the only reason why she was doing the kissing thing.
So when she slid him his beer over his shoulder like she’d done the last two nights and sat next to him, her long, flowy dress sliding between her legs, she had every intention of not kissing him; then he turned to her after a mouthful of beer and said, “Hey,” and she wanted to kiss him so freaking bad she didn’t bother with cracking her beer at all, just answered his hey with her lips crashing onto his.
But this time she did not let him take control of the kiss. She started it, and she was going to control it, her hands burrowing into his hair to hold his head still as her mouth opened and her tongue pushed inside, and he groaned, and she felt it vibrate all the way down to her toes, her sex clenching in response. Her body pushed closer as she deepened the kiss, sucking up the taste and the aroma and the essence of him, demanding he follow her lead.
And he did. God help her, he did, absorbing the electrical charge pulsing from her body, his hands finding and anchoring on her hips, anchoring her to the stoop. Anchoring her to him as her body throbbed with the desire running hot and heavy through her veins and beating through the aching flesh between her legs. A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper tumbled from the back of her throat, and Jane fisted her fingers in his hair.
Her heart crashed in her chest, and her lungs struggled to suck in the required amount of oxygen to sustain life. God knew what her blood pressure was like. She was a damn stroke waiting to happen, and none of that mattered because Jane just couldn’t get enough. Enough of his taste and his scent and the hot feel of those hands like iron bars on her hips.
But it was okay. She was still in control. She could walk away at any time. Easy peasy. She just needed one more minute.
Just. One. More. Minute.
Damn it…one more minute and she’d be in his lap—possibly on his dick, the way it was going. So, to prove to herself she could, Jane broke away, sitting herself back from him, their fast, erratic breathing the only sound in the thick kind of silence that followed. His syrupy gaze had turned dark as molasses as he searched hers for some kind of explanation. His mouth was kiss-swollen, and he touched his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, and it was so freaking sexy she knew if she didn’t stand up and get away, she’d be back at his mouth again, demanding more.
Jane pushed to her feet—a move that seemed dumb, now, given falling down appeared to be imminent—grinding her flip-flops into the stoop to keep herself upright.
“What was that for?” he asked, mimicking her question from their first kiss as