A low groan vibrates inside my chest.
I can already tell she’s the kind of woman who’ll test my patience by wanting to take it slow. But I don’t mind. After all, the chase can be as thrilling as the kill.
CLANK.
We break apart at the sound, and my gaze falls to the knife she dropped on the floor. She turns and anchors her palms against the counter, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
My own breathing is just as uneven.
That was only a kiss. What will it feel like to sink inside of her?
I’m hard as fuck. Why did I bring Sandro with me again?
“Rowan,” she whispers. “Why did you do that?”
I pick up the knife and place it on the counter.
“Because I wanted to.” And I want to do it again.
Her eyes are wide and stunned. “You can’t.”
I reach for her cheek. “Why not?”
She jerks away from me, not letting me touch her.
A flicker of worry appears in me. What is she thinking? I can’t read her.
There’s a slight tremble in her hands as she busies herself with transferring the tomatoes into the salad bowl. “Take this to the dining table, please.” She practically shoves the thing at my chest, but when our fingers brush, sparks explode over my skin.
She lets out a heavy breath, but she won’t meet my gaze, like she’s determined to ignore our insane chemistry.
Oh, Sunshine.This is happening. Maybe not tonight, but soon enough. This kind of attraction doesn’t just go away on its own. It has to be expunged, preferably over the course of many long nights between the sheets.
I float back into the dining room where Sandro’s sipping wine over a pillaged plate of cold cuts. He arches a brow. “That look on your face is making me seriously uncomfortable. Dare I ask?”
“Be quiet.” I place the bowl on the table and take a seat so that Sandro won’t notice the bulge in my jeans.
He snorts into his glass.
A minute later, Blake comes in carrying the giant turkey. I take the tray off her hands and put it in the center of the table.
She hands me the knife, still refusing to meet my eye. “Will you do the honors?”
“Sure.” I cut the bird and serve her and Sandro before putting some on my own plate.
Blake lifts her wineglass and clears her throat. “Thanks for coming, guys. I don’t have any family in town, so my original plan was to get a Thanksgiving dinner for one from the grocerystore. My friend who lives in San Francisco told me that’s just sad.”
Sandro laughs. “We’re honored you thought we were a better alternative.”
“Yes, well, I have something to celebrate today beyond just the holiday.”
Oh? Wonder what that could be. It’s not her birthday. Maybe she found another job?
Sandro grins. “What are you celebrating?”
Blake tips her chin up, her nostrils flaring on an inhale. “Today, I got an offer on my house. I’m leaving Darkwater Hollow.”
A record that’s been playing “Make It Wit Chu” in my head ever since the kiss grinds to a sharp halt.
