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“Oh, I have a word for you. It starts with ‘jack’ and ends with ‘ass.’”
“Feisty tonight?”
She crossed her arms and the gap in her sweater showed a red bra strap. He instantly wondered what kind of lace she was hiding, and if the panties matched. His fingers itched to tear them off her.
“You have a date tonight?” he asked. It was getting down to the wire with the wedding, so he was sure Natali
e had some kind of set up going on to find a guy to be her date. Which he hated. Not that he cared. Okay, he cared. But there was jack shit he could do about it, since he couldn’t obviously take her. Or date her. Or even be in the same realm as good enough for her.
But now all he could think about was that red bra and her date and the fact that if that idiot got to see it and he didn’t, he might have a stroke.
“I have drinks later,” she said.
So she did have someone lined up. A boiling rage threatened to spill over but he turned it down.
“Well, then you may want to tell him you’ll be late, because I don’t know where the keys are. It’ll take me a few hours to find them.”
She frowned at him.
“Unless you want to help me look?” he offered.
“Fine,” she said.
“Great, you start looking in my bedroom. Particularly the bed.” She rolled her eyes, and he shot her a grin. “Come on, that was a good one.”
“Is that all it takes to get women into your bed?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. You’re the only one who’s been there,” he said. Suddenly there was nothing but seriousness in his voice.
That got her eyes to soften, and he took the moment to cup her hips and tug her closer. She still kept her arms crossed. Fine by him, because he’d also been serious when talking about using his mouth on her.
“I thought about you today,” he said.
She frowned. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Because you’re a nice thought.”
She gave a small laugh. She reached one of her hands toward his chest and slowly traced a line along his pec with her finger. He was really happy he hadn’t put a shirt on now because feeling her touch, no matter how brief, on his skin was a slice of fuckin’ awesome.
“Did you think about why you keep testing our boundaries in public?” she asked.
“Actually, yeah, a little,” he admitted. “Among other thoughts. But I guess you come around and make it hard…” He paused for dramatic effect. “To focus.”
She gave a little scoff that sounded more like a laugh. “Well, you make things difficult.” She ran her finger up and down again then glanced at his mouth. “What other things did you think about?” she asked softly.
Honestly? He thought about her in everything. And for no particular reason nor anything specific. He thought of her smile, her eyes. Wondered what she was wearing and if she was baking. Tried to picture her in her life, even though he knew he could never be a part of it in the way he wanted. Pictured her in his bed…waking up with her. That could never happen, though. He’d be run out of town because Beaufort wasn’t big enough for the both of them. Lemon-Anne would disown him—heck, knowing her stern standards, she might disown Natalie, too, for having scandalized the family name. And he’d lose everything—his friends, the only family he knew… But he didn’t want to focus on that now. He only wanted Natalie.
But he couldn’t tell her that. That kind of pressure would be so unfair. And he didn’t do relationships. He couldn’t. So instead he went with—
“I thought of your taste. The sweet vanilla.” She glanced up at him, and he ran his finger under her chin. “Do you think of me?”
“I thought of how I need the van keys,” she said.
He laughed. She wasn’t pulling any punches, and he kind of liked it. It kept his ego in check. But then she blinked twice and admitted, “I thought of your skin.”
“My skin, huh?”
She nodded. “You have ridiculously soft skin.”
