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He rolls his chair around the other side of my desk so he’s beside me. He’s dressed casually today in a pair of jeans and a collared black polo shirt. He’s also wearing a pair of running shoes. Ones that have clearly been around for a while based on their scuffed toes. He extends his arm across the back of my chair.
He’s not even touching me, and still my body warms to his proximity and my mind starts to wander toward last night and the kiss we shared.
“I definitely think a partnership with Fendley’s Florists would be fantastic, particularly with how many weddings you have slated for next year. And I know you’ll be hearing from Griffin early next week. Cosy is in love with this place, and he’s working on a surprise birthday party for her for next year.”
After dinner last night, I was able to sit down with Cosy and chat for a while. She’s gorgeous, full of fire, and an absolute hoot. I learned all about how they met and fell in love in the most unconventional way.
“That’s a huge compliment coming from a family of hotel moguls.” I turn my head and find Jackson’s lips temptingly close to my own.
Our gazes meet and lock, and as if by magnetic force, our heads tip and we lean in at the same time. I allow my eyes to flutter shut as his lips brush over mine, once, twice, a third time. Each time we connect, a wave of desire washes over me. I part my lips and he takes the invitation, tongue sweeping out to dance with mine. After what might be a few seconds or maybe several hours, he pulls back.
“How much longer before you’re done here?”
“I can be finished right now.” It comes out a husky whisper.
“If you finish right now, will you have a million things to catch up on tomorrow?”
“I have some Etsy orders that need my attention, but I can’t imagine getting anything done when all I can think about is your mouth,” I tell him honestly.
“Hmm. I understand your predicament and I have a proposition for you.”
I want to ask if it includes skipping the whole dinner date entirely and just making a meal out of each other, but I bite my tongue and nod instead.
He raps on the edge of the table three times, his gaze flitting between my mouth and my eyes. “This may sound incredibly presumptuous and forward, but I’d like you to keep in mind that we’ve basically been dating minus the good-night kisses for the better part of two months and that you’ve already almost spent a night at my place, even if it was in a different bedroom, so what I’m about to ask you would absolutely be reasonable had either of us been aware that we’ve been sneakily dating without realizing it up until now.”
“Unless I missed something, there wasn’t a proposition in there,” I say with a half smile.
“That was my preamble, the proposition is forthcoming.”
“Right. Okay. Fire away.”
“If I could be so bold, I would like to suggest that we stop at your place and pick up any of the things that you might need to work on those Etsy projects. That way, after dinner, when I ask you if you’d like to come back to my place, and then later, I ask you to spend the night, you won’t have to worry about rushing through your projects or turning me down because you’re concerned about work.”
I arch a brow. “You’re feeling pretty confident about this date, aren’t you?”
“Confident, no. Hopeful, yes.” He skims the edge of my jaw with a fingertip. “Well, maybe there’s a hint of confidence in there, but I’m attributing that to your admission that all you can think about is my mouth. Especially since I’m suffering from the same plight.”
“Hmm. You’re very set on dinner out?”
“Do you have qualms about dinner?”
“Not qualms, per se.”
His brow furrows. “Concerns, then?”
I nod.
“What concerns you about dinner?”
“I’m not sure how easy it’s going to be to focus or engage in meaningful conversation when I’m aware that we’ll eventually end up back at your place.” And based on the sound of things, in his bed, naked.
His gaze sparks. “Consider it extended foreplay.”
I sigh. It seems silly that I’m resigned to going out for dinner, but what I would really like is alone time with Jackson. “Let me pack up my things.”
Less than two hours later, Jackson and I are walking up the driveway to his house in Denver. It takes two trips to get my Etsy things inside. It can be an elaborate setup. I half expect him to jump on me the second we’re inside, but it appears—unfortunately—as though he’s found some personal restraint and is employing it.
“How are plans for your sister’s wedding coming along?”
