she wasn’t sure what to do with herself, so Olivia simply sat on the couch with her hands folded in her lap. If she wanted to, she could just go to Jamie’s house and share a meal. She knew that. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to have him. She wanted to feel him on her and in her. So, scary as it was, she wouldn’t back down. Someone had to be the first after Victor, and it was going to be Jamie.
After thirty quiet, calm minutes, Olivia stood, put on her heeled sandals and left for Jamie’s place. She’d approach fun the way she approached everything: with logic and calm.
Logic, calm and a crazed, thundering heart. It seemed that fun wasn’t easy to trick, because by the time she reached Jamie’s place, she couldn’t hear anything past her rushing pulse.
She vaguely noticed that he lived in a beautiful neighborhood of large houses, and his place was no exception. The porch was split into two entrances, and she walked up to the left one and knocked. When she started getting dizzy, she made herself breathe, even when she saw a figure approach behind the frosted glass.
“Ms. Bishop,” he said, a smile spreading across his face like a warm, melting treat. “Thanks for coming.”
Hopefully he’d be repeating that same phrase later.
She fought back a nervous laugh as he opened the door wider and motioned her to step inside. She started to walk past him, then stuttered when he moved to kiss her. At the exact moment she realized he’d meant to kiss her cheek, she turned in to kiss his lips. It was too late then. Their mouths bumped awkwardly before she stepped away.
Damn it.
The door clicked closed.
“It smells good in here!” she said brightly.
“Thank you.”
“And…” She finally registered her surroundings and turned in a slow, awed circle. “It’s so pretty!” This was no dingy apartment. It wasn’t even a man cave. The tall windows were open to the breeze, letting sunlight fall across wood floors. The baseboards and doors were warm, polished wood against almond-colored walls. “How long have you lived here?”
“About eighteen months.” He led her toward the back, to a small kitchen done in dark granite and stainless steel.
“Beautiful. I didn’t expect this.”
“Oh, yeah?” he opened the oven and pulled out a pan. “What did you expect?”
She cleared her throat and didn’t answer.
“Neon beer signs? Posters taped to the walls?”
“No. I—”
“I save those for my bedroom. Then I know I’ll start the day off right.”
“Stop,” she said, slapping his arm.
Jamie snagged her wrist and pulled her into him. “I’ve been waiting to do this.”
His arms curved around her, his mouth touched hers, and the world crashed into them. She parted her lips and his tongue slid in, and though it started warm and slow, she was soon pushed against the kitchen counter while Jamie’s tongue worked her mouth and his hands clutched her hips. She clutched him right back, loving the way he smelled and tasted and felt. For three nights, she’d fallen asleep with his voice winding around her. She’d been waiting for this.
They’d shared kisses before, but this was something different. His whole body was pressed to her. She shifted, and his hips nudged her, and lust turned inside her like a screw tightening.
Maybe he’d take her right here. Maybe he’d just set her up on the counter, and push her skirt up and her panties down. She’d never had it like that before, hot and desperate in the kitchen, cold granite against her back. She was wet already. So wet she could feel it.
Something buzzed loudly, and Olivia jerked back.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice rough. “Excuse me for just a moment.”
When he moved away, her nipples peaked at the sudden coolness he left behind. She felt like she was about to burst, but Jamie still moved easy and calm as he leaned over to pull another pan from the oven. “Baked omelette,” he explained, as he set it down. “I hope you
After thirty quiet, calm minutes, Olivia stood, put on her heeled sandals and left for Jamie’s place. She’d approach fun the way she approached everything: with logic and calm.
Logic, calm and a crazed, thundering heart. It seemed that fun wasn’t easy to trick, because by the time she reached Jamie’s place, she couldn’t hear anything past her rushing pulse.
She vaguely noticed that he lived in a beautiful neighborhood of large houses, and his place was no exception. The porch was split into two entrances, and she walked up to the left one and knocked. When she started getting dizzy, she made herself breathe, even when she saw a figure approach behind the frosted glass.
“Ms. Bishop,” he said, a smile spreading across his face like a warm, melting treat. “Thanks for coming.”
Hopefully he’d be repeating that same phrase later.
She fought back a nervous laugh as he opened the door wider and motioned her to step inside. She started to walk past him, then stuttered when he moved to kiss her. At the exact moment she realized he’d meant to kiss her cheek, she turned in to kiss his lips. It was too late then. Their mouths bumped awkwardly before she stepped away.
Damn it.
The door clicked closed.
“It smells good in here!” she said brightly.
“Thank you.”
“And…” She finally registered her surroundings and turned in a slow, awed circle. “It’s so pretty!” This was no dingy apartment. It wasn’t even a man cave. The tall windows were open to the breeze, letting sunlight fall across wood floors. The baseboards and doors were warm, polished wood against almond-colored walls. “How long have you lived here?”
“About eighteen months.” He led her toward the back, to a small kitchen done in dark granite and stainless steel.
“Beautiful. I didn’t expect this.”
“Oh, yeah?” he opened the oven and pulled out a pan. “What did you expect?”
She cleared her throat and didn’t answer.
“Neon beer signs? Posters taped to the walls?”
“No. I—”
“I save those for my bedroom. Then I know I’ll start the day off right.”
“Stop,” she said, slapping his arm.
Jamie snagged her wrist and pulled her into him. “I’ve been waiting to do this.”
His arms curved around her, his mouth touched hers, and the world crashed into them. She parted her lips and his tongue slid in, and though it started warm and slow, she was soon pushed against the kitchen counter while Jamie’s tongue worked her mouth and his hands clutched her hips. She clutched him right back, loving the way he smelled and tasted and felt. For three nights, she’d fallen asleep with his voice winding around her. She’d been waiting for this.
They’d shared kisses before, but this was something different. His whole body was pressed to her. She shifted, and his hips nudged her, and lust turned inside her like a screw tightening.
Maybe he’d take her right here. Maybe he’d just set her up on the counter, and push her skirt up and her panties down. She’d never had it like that before, hot and desperate in the kitchen, cold granite against her back. She was wet already. So wet she could feel it.
Something buzzed loudly, and Olivia jerked back.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice rough. “Excuse me for just a moment.”
When he moved away, her nipples peaked at the sudden coolness he left behind. She felt like she was about to burst, but Jamie still moved easy and calm as he leaned over to pull another pan from the oven. “Baked omelette,” he explained, as he set it down. “I hope you
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