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“I left because I needed…” Fallon inhales sharply, his hand gripping my waist for a moment, as if he doesn’t want to let go. “There were things I needed to do. I’m sorry, Jen.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be. You didn’t owe me anything.”
The hand on my waist tightens, and heat lances my core. I realize that I like this—being here, in his lap. I like Fallon’s hungry eyes roaming around my face, flicking from my gaze to my lips and back again. For the first time in my life, I like being pinned here against him, giving up control.
“You ruined me when you kissed me, Jen,” he rasps. “It was over a year ago and I haven’t been right since.”
“Oh,” I say. “I’m…sorry?”
His lips tilt. “I happen to like being ruined.”
“Well, that makes one of us.”
When a deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, I can’t help the clenching of my core. His eyes are dark, almost black, and they promise dirty, dangerous things.
It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been with a man—and even longer since I’ve felt on edge as I do now. But all it takes is Fallon’s thumb to sweep a few inches over my back, and my whole body wants to melt.
“We shouldn’t do this,” I whisper.
“Do what, Jen?”
“Whatever it is we’re doing.”
“When was the last time you broke the rules?” Fallon leans his head back against the headrest, surveying me through half-lidded eyes.
“Ten minutes ago,” I answer.
His eyebrow arches. “How so?”
“Well, you’re not on my insurance and I let you drive my car.”
His lips twitch. “Does that stress you out?”
“I gave verbal consent for you to drive it, and it’s a relatively short distance back to the farmhouse, so the risk was low enough for me to take it.”
His hand tightens around my waist, smile widening. “What a rebel.”
“I know you’re making fun of me, but I don’t care.” I jut my chin out, challenging.
“I would never.”
I roll my eyes. “You constantly make fun of me, Fallon. For drinking tea. For liking to work in silence. For having four kitchen scales. For baking late into the night. For baking early in the morning. For caring about the correct temperatures for tempering chocolate—which, by the way, is the whole point of tempering chocolate.” I huff. “You make fun of me for talking about protein content of various wheat flours and their effect on recipes, which again, is important.”
His smile stretches all the way across his face, and I try my best to ignore the hard thumping of my heart. “Fine. Maybe I poke fun at you once in a while.”
“Once in a while? It was honestly a relief when you left. At least I could get a bit of peace.” My hands are still clinging to his shirt, twisted into the soft, black fabric. His shoulders shift beneath my hands, and I can’t help my soft exhale at the feel of his warm, strong body moving against mine.
The leather seat creaks as he shifts his weight forward, pulling me tight to his chest. “I don’t believe you.”
My breasts crush against his chest as he holds me tight, but I do my best to look unaffected. “Well, you should.”
“I think you’ve missed my comments. My making tea for you. My showing up at Four Cups in the middle of the night to pull you back from the brink of baking mania.”
“Nope,” I lie. “Didn’t miss you for a minute.”
His arms tighten, that sinful smile tugging. “You’re lying.”
I gulp, and Fallon sees it. The hand curled around my nape tightens as he exhales slowly, caging me in his strong arms. “You missed me, and you can’t stop thinking about kissing me.”
