Page 104 of Property of Whiskey

She studies me for a long moment. “You think I’m that confused?”

“I think you’ve had a hell of a day.”

“You dodged the question.”

“I think you wanted my keys.”

She nods once. “Started that way.”

“Knew it.”

“I know you knew.”

“Was obvious.”

“Shut up.”

“Couldn’t resist.”

Her fingers toy with the hair at the back of my neck now, not seductive so much as absent and almost intimate.

Worse.

“I didn’t keep kissing you because of the keys,” she says.

Fuck.

That hits different.

My hand tightens slightly at her waist. “Yeah.”

“Yeah what?”

“Figured that part out when you stopped checking my pockets.”

Her mouth opens. “You noticed that?”

“Blondie, you had your hand halfway down my back pocket.”

“I was touching your ass.”

“Same neighborhood.”

She laughs, and I grin despite myself.

Then her smile fades.

“How long have you really wanted me?”

I look at her. “Long.”

“That’s vague.”

“Ain’t writing a timeline.”

“Try.”

I exhale. “First time I saw you wrestle, I thought you were hot.”