“Seriously evil.” I glare.
He cups my cheek then carefully untangles himself and lowers me to the floor, his eyes staying locked on mine. “I think I’ve demonstrated pretty damned clearly how much I want you.”
It seriously should be illegal for a man to turn me on like this.
All hard parts and hot eyes and rasping voice.
“Evil,” I repeat.
He just chuckles then cups my face in that way of his, fingertips in my hair, his eyes staring into mine like he can see to the very depths of my soul. Then he presses his lips lightly to mine.
No tongue.
No teeth.
But still plenty of heat.
Still making me want to launch myself at him.
“I did things backwards with you, baby. I rushed and fucked up and hurt you. This time I want to do things right.”
My heart squeezes.
How can I fault him for that?
“Okay, handsome.”
His eyes go gentle and he tucks my hair behind my ears, presses his lips to my forehead. “Thank you.”
“I think I should be thanking you. Not just for dinner, but for listening and sharing what you shared and…for making tonight perfect.”
“I think we have Nonna and her chocolate soufflé to thank for the last part.”
I laugh. “Maybe you’re right.”
“No maybe about it.” He tugs lightly at a strand of my hair. “Though I’m halfway convinced that Nonna is expecting us to name the baby after her.”
“I think I like the name Skye better.”
He grins at me then exhales sharply, slowly drawing back, as though every inch that appears between us is painfully fought for.
Or maybe that’s just what I’m feeling.
“Walk me out?” he asks softly.
I slip my fingers through his and follow him down the hall, passing my disaster of a crochet project as it sits in a jumble on the side table. I need to figure that out, need to make it nice for the baby.
But that’s a problem for another day.
Maybe I can find a class or something.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” I ask softly.
A squeeze of my hand. A look filled with mischief tossed in my direction. “I think you kind of have to.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my eyebrows dragging together.
He pauses as we near the door, traces his thumb over my forehead, as though to smooth out my frown.
