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“I’m not sleeping with you, so if that’s your game plan here, you’re wasting your time. I’m sure it won’t be hard for you to find another Becky Binds.”
He strokes his chin and laughs. “My sweet Chloe, were you jealous of Becky Binds for having me?”
I fake a grimace. “Negative. How could I be jealous of someone who possibly had chlamydia and was a terrible person in high school? Again, I’m not sleeping with you.” My repetition is to also convince myself.
“We don’t have to sleep together. We can do other things and then go sleep in our own beds.”
I suck in a breath. The thought of not sleeping but sleeping togetherturns me on more than it should.“You’d better quit before I leave.”
He holds his hands up. “Okay, okay. Let’s eat.”
Our conversation takes a turn, and I’m surprised by how comfortable we are with each other. He tells me about the police station drama, and I complain about my office being a snooze-fest. As our plates clear, we take things to a more personal level, and I tell him about Gloria and Trey and how they’re the reason I’m still in Blue Beech. I don’t trust Claudia to care for them. Kyle has still made his fair share of smart-ass comments, but nothing to make me want to kick him in the balls for.
My phone beeps in my bag. There hasn’t been one boring minute with us, so there was no need to check it.
“Check it,” Kyle says, referring to it.
I grab it to find a text.
Claudia: Be there in 20.
“Your sister?” he asks.
I slip my phone into my bag. “Yep.”
He wipes his mouth with a napkin. “How much time do we have?”
“Twenty minutes.” I stop and hold up a finger. “Fifteen. She can’t see me leaving your house.”
“That pipes up a man’s ego.”
“She’ll give me shit. She hates you.”
He scrunches his face up. “She has no reason to hate me.”
“She hates you by proxy. I hate you, so she hates you.”
I set my phone down without bothering to text her back and grab my plate to clean up.
Kyle rises from his chair. “Don’t worry about it.”
I shake my head. “Nope. You cooked—heated up.” I laugh. “It’s only fair I clean.”
I move faster than him, but he catches up seconds later and grabs the plate from my hand at the same time I’m about to set it on the counter.
He whips me around to face him and stands inches from me. “I’ll let you clean next time.”
“Whoa,” I say, forcing myself to make my response sound like a joke, but inside, my heart is racing. “What makes you so sure there will be a next time?”
His hands go to each side of me, his palms resting on the surface of the counter, and his arms block me from moving around him. I inhale his masculine scent before peeking up at him in time to catch the way his eyes skim up and down my body.
“You promised me three dates, sweet Chloe,” he whispers, tipping his head down and burying his face in the curve of my neck.
Goose bumps travel down my spine, and my traitorous body aches for him to touch me, to kiss me, to do all the things he’s made comments about doing.
I gulp, fighting to stand my ground. “Three meals,” I correct.
He groans into my neck before dropping kisses along my sensitive skin. “Fine, threemeals, but you’re bailing early on this one. So, you owe me another half.” He sucks on my skin next, as if he wants to mark me.
