“Upstairs, earlier. I just thought we could make
playing cards more fun.”
She was a study in awkward,
although she was hiding it well. She picked at the end of her sleeve, tugging
the wool down at her wrist. Tucked a stand of hair behind her ear. Rubbed the
nape of her neck.
“I can think of nothing more fun
than winning every hand and seeing you naked,” he said without the trace of a
smile. “But I’m not about to risk hypothermia.” He picked up the pile of cards.
“Let’s play.”
She won the first game, shouting
snap and slamming her hand down on the cards so enthusiastically he laughed. “You
really can’t bear to lose, can you?”
“What can I say, I have an
over-developed sense of competition.” She gestured to the shot glass of whisky.
“Drink.”
He swallowed the amber liquid in
one swallow. “Let’s go again.”
The same thing happened for the
next game. He drank another shot. “If we were playing for clothing, I guess I’d
be down to my jeans and socks by now.”
“Wouldn’t you lose your socks
first?” She tilted her head to the side.
Flirting.
“Socks would be the last thing to
go. You’ve gotta keep your feet warm.” He leaned across the table and stared
into her eyes. “I can’t help thinking you’re trying to get me drunk.”
“Why would I do that?” Her eyes
sparkled. Her chin angled up. Definitely flirting.
“I don’t know. Maybe you find me
irresistible, and want to lower my inhibitions.”
“That would make me a very
calculating older woman.”
He picked her glass up and handed
it over. “You should drink one too. So both of us lose our inhibitions at the
same rate.”
She swallowed the shot and
spluttered. “What could that lead to?”
What indeed? “We’re alone.
Anything could happen—if you want it to.”
She sucked on her bottom lip, her
mind definitely running over the possibilities. “This is crazy, you’re Declan’s
best friend.”
“You think of me like a brother.”
A knot formed in his stomach. He forced himself to consider the truth—that she
didn’t want him, couldn’t get past the brothersfriendzone…
“No. I never thought of you like
that.” She tossed a card down on the table. “I always thought you were sort of
hot, but, you know…you were younger.”
“Age doesn’t matter.”
“Not now, but when you were
seventeen it sure did.”
“You thought I was hot when I was
seventeen?” He threw a card down on the table.
“I did. I admit it.” She threw a
card down too, followed by her hand on top. “Snap.”
“I always thought you were
gorgeous.”
Her eyes widened.
“I still do.”
She put down her cards, stood up,
leaned over the table and kissed him square on the mouth.
*****
She tasted of whisky. The kiss was an impulsive thing, over
in a moment. She pulled back and smiled as though it hadn’t been anything, hadn’t
meant anything.
Forget that. “You call
that a kiss?” He really shouldn’t take it further, but there was no way he
could pretend it was nothing. He’d dreamed of kissing her for years. Really
kissing her, not just the quick touch of closed mouths.
“This is how I’d kiss you.”
She didn’t move, didn’t look
away. Her lips parted and awareness was in her eyes, awareness that maybe she’d
poked a snake. Teased, without assessing the consequences.
He stood. Walked around the
table. Slipped a hand behind her nape, and brought his mouth a millimeter away
from hers. Her pupils expanded. Her eyelids dipped, but she still watched him.
He breathed in the scent of her—heady, arousing. “If you want me to stop, tell
me now.”
She stayed silent.
Nick teased her lips with his.
Traced the seam of them with his tongue, then angled his head and poured all the
long years of wanting into his kiss. He’d meant to make a point, to show she
couldn’t just kiss him and sit back down as though nothing had happened. But
the moment she opened her mouth and started to kiss him back, his
playing cards more fun.”
She was a study in awkward,
although she was hiding it well. She picked at the end of her sleeve, tugging
the wool down at her wrist. Tucked a stand of hair behind her ear. Rubbed the
nape of her neck.
“I can think of nothing more fun
than winning every hand and seeing you naked,” he said without the trace of a
smile. “But I’m not about to risk hypothermia.” He picked up the pile of cards.
“Let’s play.”
She won the first game, shouting
snap and slamming her hand down on the cards so enthusiastically he laughed. “You
really can’t bear to lose, can you?”
“What can I say, I have an
over-developed sense of competition.” She gestured to the shot glass of whisky.
“Drink.”
He swallowed the amber liquid in
one swallow. “Let’s go again.”
The same thing happened for the
next game. He drank another shot. “If we were playing for clothing, I guess I’d
be down to my jeans and socks by now.”
“Wouldn’t you lose your socks
first?” She tilted her head to the side.
Flirting.
“Socks would be the last thing to
go. You’ve gotta keep your feet warm.” He leaned across the table and stared
into her eyes. “I can’t help thinking you’re trying to get me drunk.”
“Why would I do that?” Her eyes
sparkled. Her chin angled up. Definitely flirting.
“I don’t know. Maybe you find me
irresistible, and want to lower my inhibitions.”
“That would make me a very
calculating older woman.”
He picked her glass up and handed
it over. “You should drink one too. So both of us lose our inhibitions at the
same rate.”
She swallowed the shot and
spluttered. “What could that lead to?”
What indeed? “We’re alone.
Anything could happen—if you want it to.”
She sucked on her bottom lip, her
mind definitely running over the possibilities. “This is crazy, you’re Declan’s
best friend.”
“You think of me like a brother.”
A knot formed in his stomach. He forced himself to consider the truth—that she
didn’t want him, couldn’t get past the brothersfriendzone…
“No. I never thought of you like
that.” She tossed a card down on the table. “I always thought you were sort of
hot, but, you know…you were younger.”
“Age doesn’t matter.”
“Not now, but when you were
seventeen it sure did.”
“You thought I was hot when I was
seventeen?” He threw a card down on the table.
“I did. I admit it.” She threw a
card down too, followed by her hand on top. “Snap.”
“I always thought you were
gorgeous.”
Her eyes widened.
“I still do.”
She put down her cards, stood up,
leaned over the table and kissed him square on the mouth.
*****
She tasted of whisky. The kiss was an impulsive thing, over
in a moment. She pulled back and smiled as though it hadn’t been anything, hadn’t
meant anything.
Forget that. “You call
that a kiss?” He really shouldn’t take it further, but there was no way he
could pretend it was nothing. He’d dreamed of kissing her for years. Really
kissing her, not just the quick touch of closed mouths.
“This is how I’d kiss you.”
She didn’t move, didn’t look
away. Her lips parted and awareness was in her eyes, awareness that maybe she’d
poked a snake. Teased, without assessing the consequences.
He stood. Walked around the
table. Slipped a hand behind her nape, and brought his mouth a millimeter away
from hers. Her pupils expanded. Her eyelids dipped, but she still watched him.
He breathed in the scent of her—heady, arousing. “If you want me to stop, tell
me now.”
She stayed silent.
Nick teased her lips with his.
Traced the seam of them with his tongue, then angled his head and poured all the
long years of wanting into his kiss. He’d meant to make a point, to show she
couldn’t just kiss him and sit back down as though nothing had happened. But
the moment she opened her mouth and started to kiss him back, his
Similar Books
