She leaned across the consul. “Shut up.”
She kissed him.
From the moment her lips touched his, all was right in the world. His mouth had been slack with surprise, but he quickly recovered, sliding his hands into her hair, tugging her close, angling her head so they fit perfectly together. Kay might have been the one to initiate the kiss, but Garret was the one to own it.
To own her.
His tongue slipped inside, tangling with hers. Heat and moisture and . . . fuck but he could kiss good.
Not proper English in the slightest, and her editor would be appalled at her grammar. But as his hands trailed down her spine and his tongue slid in and out of her mouth in a rhythm that had her seeing stars, all she could think was—
Good.
More.
Naked.
Now.
And that was the moment Garret pulled back. He pushed out his door, walked around the front of his car, and opened hers.
He extended a hand, and her desire-addled brain had Kay trailing him mutely to the house. “Keys?” he asked once they’d stopped on the porch.
She blinked, pulled them out of her purse.
Garret snagged them from her, unlocked the door. Then he kissed her one more time, slipping a hand underneath her coat, wrapping it around her waist, and pulling her flush against him. His chest hard and his cock . . . well, that was hard, too. She arched, aching to be closer, for the thin layers of her dress and his clothes to disappear.
His hand slid a little lower, fingertips teasing the top of her ass, before he pulled back with a curse. “You’ll be the death of me, sweetheart.” And though he was breathing hard, his eyes danced. “Dangerous kisses. Assaulting me with paperbacks—”
Kay felt her cheeks go red. “I’ll have you know, I’m not normally prone to violence.”
A kiss to her forehead as he opened the door.
“I certainly deserved more than the potential risk of a paper cut.”
He nudged her inside.
“It’s ok—”
“Three months,” he said softly and nudged her inside before closing the door, leaving them separated by the planks of wood. “Lock up.” His voice was muffled.
She reached for the handle. “Garret—”
“Lock up.”
Kay sighed loud enough for him to hear, but her lips were curved.
She locked the door, pulled out her phone, scrolled down to Heather’s number, and shot off a quick text.
“Garret?” she called as she waited.
“Yes?”
Buzz. Buzz.
Her fingers moved furiously across the keyboard . . . and send.
“Kay?”