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Why kiss her hand?
Because it was the closest thing I could think of to do in public compared to what I really want to do to her.
It’s instinct for me to want to kiss her, to touch her.
Moving from International arrivals into the main area of the airport, I’m suddenly aware of just how much I want her all to myself, even elbowing some people out of the way as they get too close to her for my liking.
Wanting to put my arm around her but settling for a hand on the small of her back, I guide her through the crowd until we’re outside.
I feel her body shiver under my hand and stepping out into the warmth of a perfect sunny day, I know her shivers and stiff chest have nothing to do with the temperature.
“I parked over here,” she volunteers, moving towards a pay station, looking down at the single folded note, the parking pass, she’s pulled from her jeans pocket.
“I got that,” I tell her, moving quickly to find my platinum credit card and swipe it after feeling her hand again as I lift the parking pass from her fingers.
She opens her mouth to protest, but I can see it doesn’t take too much convincing.
“Thanks, but you didn’t have to,” she murmurs once I’ve paid.
“The least I could do. I mean, you coming all this way to pick me up,” I smile back at her.
“At least it’s not far for me to get home once I drop you off,” she says with a chuckle, but I stay silent.
I have no idea what that means but I’m dying to find out.
Chapter Three
Krystal
Blake Mason is huge.
Standing near him I feel tiny for the first time in my life.
Petite almost.
I can’t believe my dad was so offhand, only describing him as tall, dark, and handsome.
The man’s a freaking god.
He’s gentle with me though, and touching his hand is like a warm buzz that makes its way through every pleasure center in my body and brain.
I figure he must be eager to get home though. He even shoves some people out of the way as we head back to my dad’s car.
His hand on my back feels so good I hope he can’t hear my little mews and purrs as he moves us through the crowd.
I know someplace else he could put that hand to work...
Jeez! What the hell is wrong with me?
I’ve known Blake Mason for all of three minutes and now I’m some sort of deviant in my mind wherever he’s concerned.
I wonder if he has that effect on most girls.
Definitely. No doubt. I mean, look at the guy. A perfectly natural response given the situation.
He insists on paying for parking, which saves me a fair portion of my money but I wonder if my dad will ask him about it.
We reach my dad’s car, which I thought was a fairly big vehicle until Blake folds himself into the front passenger seat.
“It’s not too far,” I remark, noting his uneasy smile as he checks himself to make sure he’s buckled in.
“I do have to stop for—” I start to say, but not wanting him to think I’m angling for him to pay for gas as well as parking I stop myself.
Pulling out from the lot, I catch his eyes in the rearview.
He’s all attention, waiting for me to finish what I was gonna say.
“Stop where?” he asks, opening his expression wide like I might be taking us someplace exotic.
I wish.
“Just for gas is all,” I almost whisper, cringing in my seat as he gives a knowing look.
The ‘I got that too’ look that people who pay for everyone’s way must surely make.
I want to argue to the point, but figure I’ll just make sure I pay for it when I get it.
As if on cue the car sounds its warning that the gas tank is dangerously low.
“So, the magazine business?” I hear myself asking him, trying to change the subject but only cringing internally again.
My dad’s probably already told him that I studied design and majored in photography.
The last two months saw me start an internship at a small paper, right after college, but that was more like slave labor than an actual job.
I don’t want it to sound like I’m expecting any favors or a job offer just because he’s our neighbor.
I steal a glance over at Blake, who’s creased a smile and is nodding his head in silence.
Idiot! Too soon. Too soon.
“I guess your dad’s told you a lot about me, huh?” he asks in reply.
Not dismissing my question, but he seems to have a lot of his own too.
“Oh, not really. I’ve been away at college and an internship,” I reply.
“But I guess you two being neighbors, you would’ve talked plenty,” I add, feeling it sinking in that Blake is my newest neighbor too. Not just my dad’s.
