Page 42 of Passion in Bloom

No more making moves. No more touching. If she wanted something to happen, it had to be on her. She had to reach out to me.

“I wanted nothing to do with you. I wanted nothing to do with another woman again.”

She furrowed her brow, glancing down at the hand I lowered. With her gaze down, she looked so innocent and uncertain, as if she couldn’t bear to look at me in the eye but wished I’d make contact anyway.

“But fuck, I can’t help it. Something about you...” I shook my head, almost in wretched disbelief and shock that I was saying this to her. After all those claims that I was done, that Veronica had turned me off from ever wanting another woman again, I was laying my heart on the line for this secretive neighbor of mine.

How did this happen?

Why you?

What changed?

So much for bachelorhood.

“It’s all I can think about. You. Making you mine. Being yours.” I ran my hand through my hair, hating the angst that made my chest feel this tight. My desire for her was no fickle, passing phase.

I felt this need to have her close deep in my soul.

“Of seeing if we can have something here. Something real. I want you, gorgeous. But—”

She closed the distance between us, reaching up to tug my head down to hers.

And I shut my eyes at the sweet bliss of her impatient kiss.

No, no, no.

Even though I was giving her the control and power to make a move on me, I wasn’t doing this again.

I held her arms and pushed her back gently, hating the loss of her soft lips on mine.

“You’re not going to silence me with a kiss,” I warned quietly.

“I’m not?” She leaned in again, hooking her arm around my neck as she brought her face closer to mine. The barest whip of hot air from her lips hit mine, still wet and hungry for more.

I cleared my throat, setting my hands on her back and keeping her flush to me. Every inch of contact felt significant. Along my fingers. In the weight of my palms. It was impossible not to feel super aware of her, of the fact I could be trusted to touch her and hold her close. I felt the connection to the bottom of my soul, like I was the one who could be relied on to treasure and cherish her.

She brushed her mouth over mine, just at the corner, and I groaned lightly at the tease.

“Not all communication has to be with words,” she said softly, kissing me square on the mouth.

Damn, was she getting to me.

I could just imagine what else she had in mind.

Taken back to the memories of her lowering to her knees and putting those plump, stubborn lips on my cock had it hardening even faster. She had to have felt my erection pushing up under my jeans. We were standing so close, flush, and she moaned a sound of need as she rocked her body against mine. As if she was pulled to seek more friction between us.

I replied in kind, clutching her closer in a tight hug. We kissed. We licked. We explored. With our impatient mouths and tongues. Our groping hands.

Out here under the darkening fall sky, we communicated one very simple thing.

We wanted each other.

Now.

She tugged at the hem of my shirt, seeking a more secure latch on me. The second her cool fingers slipped over the edge of my top of my jeans, my abs tensed. Then she yanked, pulling me toward her. Or maybe it was a clue that she wanted my pants off.

I couldn’t tell. I wouldn’t guess. Presuming anything with a woman who could run hot and cold was stupid.