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It turned out that Dallas could.
The restaurant was spectacular. The food was glorious. Wild mushroom bisque. Broiled sea scallops with braised radicchio. Champagne.
And Jacob. Mostly, Jacob.
Her Jacob.
He was gorgeous. There wasn’t a woman in the room who hadn’t looked at him with lust in her eyes.
And he was attentive. Funny. Charming. She loved dancing with him. He held her close; she could feel every inch of his long, wonderful body against hers.
She could smell his scent, sexy and natural and male as she burrowed into him.
And—and what are you doing, Addison McDowell?
Well, she knew what she was doing.
She was thinking about all that and she was turning herself on….
“Addison.”
She swallowed hard. Leaned back in Jake’s arms and looked up at him.
“Yes?”
He laughed. It was a soft, very sexy sound.
“I know what you’re thinking, Adoré,” he said.
She laughed, too.
“What are you going to do about it?” she said.
They were in the Thunderbird and roaring along the highway not more than three or four minutes later.
Jake had dumped a handful of bills on their table and all but carried her from the restaurant.
His mind was a blur.
He hadn’t told her he loved her, but he would—just as soon as he could form a coherent sentence.
Right now, he needed to make love to her.
And, hell, even the way he drove, it would be more than an hour before they were alone.
He thought about going to a hotel but humble as it was, okay, ramshackle as it was, the Chambers place—her place—had become their home.
Except …
Except, God, he was burning up with hunger.
It was the same for her.
She was sitting as close to him as possible, her hand on his thigh. She was trembling, and when he put his hand in her lap, slid it under her skirt, she made a sound that almost drove him insane.
“Jacob,” she whispered, “don’t. You can’t—”
He could.
