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For the first time since she'd sat down, she was grateful for the firelight, if only because it would hide the color she knew was rising to her cheeks. "I don't see how that's any of your business. And I never said love was for chumps."
"It's written all over your face," he said.
"What is? That love is for chumps or… the last time I got laid?" She mumbled the last of the question, and he grunted a laugh.
"Both," he said simply.
Silence stretched between them again as she thought about her next move. She ought to apologize for overstepping or at least tell him that she knew it wasn't any of her business. But then she thought about what he'd said. That the last time she'd been laid was written all over her face. Was that because she looked so hungry for him? Or simply because she was so tense, so rigid?
And what did he intend to do about that?
She shivered, and he glanced at her.
"Cold?" he asked.
"A little." In saying it, she realized it was the truth. She glanced back at him as he stood from his seat and ducked into the house. In a matter of seconds, he returned with what looked like a homemade afghan then leaned over her and tucked it around her shoulders. In that single move, she could smell the smoke of the fire and the pine of the trees on his skin. His hand brushed against her bicep and goosebumps rose instantly along her flesh, begging her to pay attention to him.
She tilted her head up, meeting his eyes for what felt like an eternity, but then he pulled back again and settled into his seat.
"Thanks," she murmured.
"No problem."
"Homemade?" she asked.
"My grandmother made it for me before I went to college." He nodded.
"That's really sweet. Your whole family seems really sweet."
"They are what they seem." He nodded. "So…"
The crickets hummed in the distance, and she settled back, waiting for words that didn't come.
"Do you promise you're not in love with Quinn?" she forced herself to ask him, and when her gaze met his, she knew the next words he spoke would be the truth.
Eyes soft, he said, "I promise. Quinn isn't my type. She’s too free spirited for me. I like women who are down to earth and driven and…strong.”
His gaze searched her for a long minute, and suddenly she felt herself leaning forward as if all the forces of the universe had been leading to this moment. She breathed a shaky breath, and then he was coming closer, too, gazing down his nose at her waiting lips.
The second his warm, full lips met her own, it was sheer, unadulterated light. Electricity snapped through the air, and she moved closer, stroking his jaw as his tongue swept out to meet hers. Every minute of every day since the wedding had been leading to this moment, and still, as her tongue slid against his, the gentleness and energy of it seemed to take her by surprise.
Moaning slightly, she pushed and pulled along with him. Internally, she begged for his hands to explore her breasts and then the strong, aching need that was building between her thighs at his every touch.
In the history of her life—maybe in the history of the world—there had never been a kiss this good, this deep and passionate, He pulled back and looked deep into her eyes, like he was searching for something deep and profound.
"Zoe," he started, but there was a metal jingling, and she shot bolt upright and wheeled around to face the front door.
It was almost sounded like...
Keys?
Like someone was working the lock, trying to come inside and join them.
Her heart leaped into her throat and she sprinted for the doorway, heedless of everything that had happened in the seconds before.
Quinn was here.
Quinn was finally here.
