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“It’s a slow burn.” He runs his hand over his thigh again.
“Are you nervous? Because if that’s the issue, I can help.” I grab the front of his shirt and pull him forward. This would be fine if he wasn’t wearing a seat belt and I hadn’t yanked him aggressively, causing the belt to do its job and prevent him from getting more than six inches from his seat.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” I jam the release on my own seat belt and reach across to do the same for him. Once we’re no longer at the mercy of restraints, I mash my lips against his.
He has the audacity to smile. “My version had a little more finesse.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
He cups my face in his hands and pulls back, his expression suddenly serious. “Did you not like my story?”
“You are killing me, BJ. Put me out of my misery and kiss me. Please.”
“How can I say no when you’re being so polite?” He angles his head and brushes his lips over mine. Soft. Sweet. His tongue flicks out, skimming my top lip.
I lean in, glad the center console isn’t an impediment. I tug the spiral tie out of his hair so it’s loose and run my fingers through the gloriously satiny strands. He has great hair. I angle my head and part my lips, tongue pushing past his. That soft sweetness lasts for all of three seconds. BJ groans, the sound making all my hot spots light right the hell up. Then he does this twirl thing with his tongue that curls my toes. And suddenly it’s a battle. I can’t get close enough, can’t get enough of the feel of his velvet tongue tangling with mine, or the way he sucks my bottom lip and uses exactly the right amount of teeth. BJ turns kissing into art, and I can’t wait to find out what other talents he has.
I keep trying to drag him across the seat, but there isn’t room. I abandon his hair and run my hand down his chest. When I find the hem of his shirt, I slide my hand under, meeting warm, bare skin. Before I can move to shove my hand down the front of his pants, he breaks the kiss and laces our fingers together.
He’s still cupping my cheek with his other hand, and he brushes his thumb along the edge of my jaw. “Fuck, Snowflake, you’re everything I’d hoped you’d be.”
“Why are you stopping then?” My chest heaves, breaths coming fast and shallow. I’m light-headed and worked up.
“I like you,” he says softly.
“Uh, yeah, that kiss told me that.”
He smiles, his tongue sweeping out to wet his bottom lip. “I have a bad habit of rushing into things, and I’d like to try to break it with you.”
“Huh?” I’m so confused.
His grin turns wry. “I want to get to know you before I try to get into your pants.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say to that. I’ve spent most of my life avoiding relationships because bringing someone home to meet my family is on par with playing chicken with a guardless circular saw. But I did have one long-term boyfriend in high school. He wasn’t the best choice, but high school is mostly about making mistakes and hopefully learning from them.
“Can I pick you up tomorrow?” BJ asks.
“I’ll probably come straight from Boones to the arena,” I say.
“Okay. Can I pick you up from Boones?” His thumb is still sweeping along the edge of my jaw.
“It’s a ten-minute bike ride, tops.”
“I’d still like to pick you up.”
“Can we make out in your Jeep if I say yes?”
He grins. “We could.”
“Yeah. Okay.” I fight a smile of my own. “You can pick me up tomorrow.”
“Excellent. Let me help get your bike off the roof rack.” He hops out of the Jeep.
I blow out a breath. Based on the throb between my legs, I’ll need to take care of my situation when I get home—which is a hell of a lot easier now that I have a bedroom with a door. By the time I peel myself out of the passenger seat, BJ has already unclipped my bike, dropped the kickstand at the front of the Jeep, and circled around the back to get my hockey bag.
“We don’t need to strap it to the bike. It’s light and I can carry it,” I say as I close the passenger door.
“Okay.” He sets it on the ground.
