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“If they didn’t, they should have,” I say.
“Wow. That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me. I think,” she replies.
I take a deep breath and clear my throat.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to have you checked out to make sure you’re not having a brain bleed or something serious. And then we’ll deal with whatever it is that made you forget your own name. OK?”
“That’s a lot to remember,” she replies.
“I’m sorry, was I going too fast?”
“Just kidding. Amnesia joke,” she says.
She reaches over and squeezes my hand. I glance over as I’m driving, and she winks at me.
The sinful thoughts that pop into my brain when she does this…holy shit.
This is wrong. On the surface, she seems fine, but she’s not in her right mind.
It’s wrong to think of flooring the gas pedal, steering the car to my house, carrying her caveman-style to my bed. Wedging my body between her legs until that little grin turns into a shocked, breathless moan.
My cock and my head are so diametrically opposed right now, I’m not sure which way is up anymore.
Chapter Five
Jane
His cotton V-neck tee-shirt looks expensive and soft. I want to touch it. Explore the hard contrast of his muscular chest against the softness of the fabric.
His torso narrows to a tight waist, where he wears belted linen trousers.
Everything about him looks sharp but not pampered.
As he drives the stick shift, his beautiful, tattooed forearm ripples. Before I can stop myself, I touch it. I run my fingers across the defined sinews, admiri
ng him like a Michelangelo sculpture. I hear him let out a slow breath, like he’s trying to control his temper. Or his impulse.
Impulse to do what, I wonder.
I study his face. His features are fine: a strong chin, high cheekbones, and deep-set eyes.
Shepherd looks nothing like what I would expect a city coffee bar owner to look like.
Most of the men I see around the city we’re driving through have beards and are dressed intentionally shabby. Great Depression chic.
Shepherd is clean shaven, tailored, put together but masculine.
His skin looks soft and kissable, but he’s no babyface.
“Is it wrong I feel like kissing you right now?” I ask him.
He clears his throat and I can see him swallowing.
“You keep touching my arm like that, it’s going to happen whether it’s wrong or not.”
Chapter Six
Shepherd
