“Beckett.” I shook my head and put one hand out as if to ward him off while the other still grasped the towel.
“You didn’t answer my texts, and then I walk in the door, and there’s no Vader, no you, no Lewis. Do you know what that did to me? After yesterday?” he growled.
A tremble coursed through me as he removed the last few inches that separated us, stopping so close his shoes could kiss my toes.
“We were next door, working and meeting with the adjuster, and then we came back and got cleaned up. I left my phone here, charging, because I fell asleep reading last night, and it didn’t get charged.” I was rambling. I knew I was, but I couldn’t seem to stop it. “Vader has been with us all day, and then we had to find the kitten because she’d escaped again. She’s justlonely though. I think Vader is too. See the way they’re curled up together…”
Beckett’s head swiveled slowly over to the animals, who were still twined but watching us with interest. Then, he turned back to me. “No. I’m not keeping the cat. It wouldn’t be fair when Vader and I are at the station for days at a time.”
“She can stay with me. Once we fix up Dad’s place, I’ll likely stay with him, so I don’t need to worry about an apartment. It’ll be fine.”
He put a finger on my lips, and my voice faded away. The look he gave me was dark and sinful. I wanted to dive in and get lost in it for hours.
“You’re babbling. You only do that when you’re nervous. Why are you nervous, darlin’?”
It seemed almost impossible to breathe. Shifting his hand, he glided a thumb sensually over my jaw. When he hesitated over the almost invisible scar, I was finally able to push him away.
“I think that’s five now. Five romance books you owe me.” My voice was still a bit shaky as I was unable to break away from the simmering look sparking in his brown depths.
How could this ever be wrong? The pulse of want that was so strong it was almost its own entity. How could that ever be anything but right?
“It was a draw at the lake,” he said, voice low and deep. “So, I think this makes four.”
He leaned forward, not quite far enough for our bodies to touch, but his mouth inched closer to mine. My almost nonexistent breath evaporated completely. Every fiber of my being ached for him to kiss me. To have those beautiful lips land firmly on mine.
I’d once told Fallon I’d never had an earth-shattering, life-altering kiss, but I suddenly realized I had now. When Beckett had dipped me over and planted one on me at the fire station, it had changed everything I’d known and thought about kisses. My life would forever be a series of befores and afters from here on, and I wanted more of what he’d given me. It was why I’d subconsciously taunted him at the lake, and in the backyard, and…
His hand fell away from my cheek, and disappointment, hot and furious, welled through me, even as I tried to convince myself it was for the best. My walls were too shaky. Too torn. I’d never survive another kiss from him, only to have to go back to being just friends.
With his eyes still holding mine, he leaned even closer, reaching his arm past me so it grazed my ear and had my nipples hardening and goosebumps bursting out along my skin. As if he saw it or sensed it, Beckett’s lips quirked upward.
And then he was moving back, a book from the shelf behind me in hishand.
“Will this one do to start?” he asked.
My grip on the towel tightened. I fought to recover. Fought to stabilize my senses.
It took far too long for me to focus on the book he held—a steamy, historical romance.
I cleared my throat. “If you want to read about rakes and ladies, sure.”
His smirk grew into a full-on grin. “Forced-proximity trope, right? You like that one.”
My throat seemed to close, and I had to force out my words. “I do.”
He glanced down at the towel and the swell of my breasts above it before fastening me with a heated stare. If possible, his voice got even deeper as he said, “I think I’m finally getting how tempting it can be.”
As he stepped farther away, my breath escaped, and my stomach unclenched.
“You might appreciate a romantic-suspense novel more than that,” I said.
“I’ve got three more after this, right? You can recommend one. For now, let’s see”—he read the back—“how the Duke of Thornton manages with Miss Danvers.”
The more space he put between us and the more he teased, the more it allowed me to regain my wits. “Fine. But don’t judge all romance by one historical, even if it is a really great one.”
“You forget, Maise, I’ve already read a couple of romance books.”
I scoffed. “You didn’t really readThe Marriage Solutionwhen you lost that bet, did you?”