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“I’m sure it will be.” She smiled at him. “Good night, Drew. Thanks for the ride.”
“Let me walk you to your door.”
“Oh, no. That’s not necessary—”
“Please. I’d prefer to see you safely inside.”
Jenna sighed. “Fine. If you insist.”
Drew followed her up the stairway and stood at the end of the porch, waiting while she dug in her purse.
“I don’t usually fumble for the key, I’ll have you know,” she told him. “Normally, I’d have it in my hand, ready to jab into an assailant’s eyes. I’m a little off my game tonight.”
She opened the door, and looked up, opening her mouth to say goodbye, and wild energy suddenly arced between them. The breathless silence felt charged with meaning. Possibility.
Jenna held the door open and shifted back, making room for him to come inside.
She closed the door after he followed her, hung her key ring on the hook on the wall, placed her purse on the shelf and stood there waiting. Seconds passed. They turned into minutes.
“Is there something you wanted to say to me?” Jenna’s voice was a soft, throaty whisper.
Yes.But not in words. Words had abandoned him. Something else had taken him over. Something hungry, restless, prowling.
Jenna made a startled sound as he reached out and took her glasses off. He placed them on the shelf by the door, his movements slow and deliberate.
Her hands floated up, but not to push his hands away. He touched her jaw, her cheekbones, with his fingertips. The tender skin at the nape of her neck, behind her ear. The warmth of her hands came to rest on top of his, brushing along his fingers, then pressing his hands against her face.
Every part of her was just as soft and fragrant as he remembered from that astonishing kiss outside the Maddox Hill building.
Her arms wound around his neck. He cupped the back of her head, the thick mass of twisted curls wound up in the back, the ringlets coming loose and twining around his fingers. Breathing in her perfume.
Scolding voices in his head yapped at him. He shouldn’t be doing this. It was irresponsible. He was being a self-serving tool. This was going to blow up in his face, and there would be no one to blame but himself.
The voices faded to a background buzz. Distant, irrelevant. And then he was kissing her.
Wildly, like he was starving for her.
