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With his usual wit, he manages to ease the difficult conversation. Still smiling, I type out a reply.
Me: You know I’m rolling my eyes, don’t you?
Jason: I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. What else are you doing?
Me: I’m baking Christmas cookies. Do you want to come over?
Jason: Do you need to ask? I’m halfway there.
My heart pounds, but this time it’s not panic, it’s anticipation at seeing Jason. Based on the intel from Allie, I expected he’d say he would come over. What’s surprising is how quickly. Maybe it’s good not to have too much time to think about seeing him again. I check the time on my cell; he should be here in fifteen minutes.
Last night, Jason’s kisses were steamy hot. He helped me to forget and just feel, relearning the beauty of an orgasm delivered through desire rather than my battery-operated toy. The man is as skilled in his lovemaking as I suspected he would be. And I want more. More of the same. And hopefully, his let’s-not-rush approach won’t put the brakes on me finally breaking my eight-year sex drought.
To distract myself, I start to pull my cookie-making bowls and trays from cupboards and drawers. Lining everything up along the island in a sequence.
With five minutes to spare, I freshen up in the bathroom and am tying my hair back into a ponytail when Jason knocks. My skin tingles all over.
With a rush, I pull open the heavy door, and my breath catches at the sight of him. A wide grin stretches his mouth, and his intent gaze twinkles with an inner light that I think might be saying, let’s pick up where we left off last night.
I throw my arms around his neck, and he catches me to his chest. His head dropping so I can seal his grin in place with my own smiling mouth. The kiss heats up quickly, just like last night. His tongue seeking entrance beyond my lips. His hands exploring the curves and contours of my body. Last night, the only item of clothing taken off was my underwear, and I want that to change this time. But first, we need to talk. What was it that Allie said this morning? I need to use my words.
Okay, well, here goes nothing.
Chapter twelve
Jason
Dana pulls back, and my arms loosen.
Fuck, was it too much, too soon? When will I learn that leaping on Dana is not how we should be doing this? Slow seduction is supposed to be my plan. Not caveman behavior.
“We need to talk,” she says, and while the words could be bad news, the way her hands have moved to my waist and are twisting in my sweater feels a lot more positive. Talking is a good idea. I do that for a living, so I got this. If I can avoid another of her word-stealing kisses.
“Okay, let’s talk. Where do you want to do it?”
Her eyebrow quirks, and I chuckle.
“Honestly, I didn’t mean to make that sound sexy.”
“Well, that’s a shame. I was kind of hoping this would turn into a booty call.”
“Let’s get one thing straight. You’ll never be only a booty call to me. But if you’re wanting a repeat of last night, then that I can certainly do.”
Her pretty lips stretch wider. “Understood.” She ushers me further into her apartment and leads me to the sofa.
I like hanging out at Dana’s place, and it’s not only because her furniture is way more comfortable than my designer-selected pieces, but every room has the same fresh, floral undertones of her perfume. It’s my favorite scent, and here is where it surrounds me, reminding me of the simple, natural beauty of a clear mountain spring or the first fall of snow in Central Park.
We sit, and I enclose her permanently cold hands in my warm ones. It amazes me that mine are still warmer than hers when I’m the one who was just outside. She sits silently for a moment, looking down at our clasped hands. “Do you want to start?” I ask.
“Okay,” she answers, peering up at me through her lashes. She appears younger than her thirty-two years, sitting cross-legged opposite me in casual jeans and a lilac sweater, with no makeup and her hair pulled back into a ponytail.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since last night. About what us could mean …” Her voice is low, and I lean a little closer. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that we could be pretty damn good together.”
The breath I was holding rushes from my lungs. Thank fuck for that. For a scary minute, I thought she was going to say that was it. “I agree.” I don’t want her thinking we’re not on the same page.
Her smile is gentle when she lifts her head a little. “At twenty, before Jack’s accident, I was adventurous and daring. All about the fun times. So different to me now. But when he died, so did that girl. She got swallowed up by grief and bad choices. I don’t want to be the same as I was at twenty, but I want to be the woman who would have been that girl. Does that make any sense?”
I nod encouragingly.
