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Groaning, he picked her up and sat her on the edge of the desk. This whole place was a disaster—the place they put stuff when they didn’t know where it should go. Something clattered to the floor, but he didn’t care. With a hand at the back of his neck, she reeled him in, and he went so happily. He lost his mind to the heat of her mouth, the warmth of her hips in his hands. Scooting backward on the desk, she folded her legs around him.
Alarm bells went off in his head.
What was he doing?
He tore himself away, only for her to drag him back in.
“Zoe,” he gasped, kissing her again, but he had to stop.
She raked her nails through his scalp. “If you say one word about my stupid brother, I swear—”
“No.” He laughed. “Just no.”
But as he drew away, the kiss-bitten redness of her lips, her tousled hair, and her flushed cheeks told him the truth. They’d crossed a line. He knew how she tasted now, how perfectly she fit in his arms.
There was no going back.
But he wasn’t a complete idiot.
“My place,” he panted. “Not here.”
She hooked her ankles behind his rear and pulled him in, and he saw stars.
He pulled away again and fixed her with a gaze that brooked no argument. “Not here.”
She pouted, breathing hard, but she released him. He stepped away, and she hopped down off the table.
“Fine,” she relented. She narrowed her eyes at him, but her voice shook. “No take-backs, though, okay?” She reached up to tap him on the head. “Don’t overthink this.”
Yeah. Like that was going to happen.
He grabbed her hand again. But instead of brushing her away, he held her gaze and brought the back of her palm to his mouth.
“No take-backs.” He kissed the soft skin of her knuckles.
And seriously. He was going to hell.
But if the smoldering look in her eyes was any indication?
It was going to be worth the ride.
Chapter Eight
Nervous anticipation and wary disbelief warred in Zoe’s gut as she pulled up to Devin’s building an hour later. Staying at Harvest Home and finishing the tasks she usually enjoyed had been pure torture—especially when Devin had slipped out. The dark look he’d given her on his way to the door had made her clench down deep inside.
But he’d been hot and cold over the past few days, to say nothing of the past few years. She had no idea what she was walking into here.
Still half expecting him to have changed his mind again, she got out of the car and headed up the walk. Bubbles formed and popped inside her chest. She was trying to keep her expectations in check, but his kiss had set her on fire. An hour of waiting had only stoked the flame. By the time she hit the top of the stairs, she was a riot of desire and nerves—if he turned her away after all that, she really was going to deck him. She reached the apartment number he’d given her, lifted her hand, and curled it into a fist. She took a deep breath, then steeled up her nerve and knocked.
The door swung open instantly.
Behind it stood Devin, and Zoe’s stomach did a loop-the-loop.
Good grief, he was gorgeous. His sandy-brown hair was all mussed, exactly the way she wanted it to be after she’d been raking her hands through it all night. If it was possible, his jaw was sharper, the scruff there even more masculine. He stood there in a T-shirt and jeans, his feet bare on the hardwood.
His eyes shone midnight black with want, and just like that, all the doubt disappeared from her mind.
“Devin—”
