Finding Kyle(27)

“It was a thank you for helping me paint,” I state firmly.

“That would have been beer and a pizza, not a romantic restaurant,” she counters.

“You picked the restaurant,” I remind her.

She ignores that very pointed reminder. “So are you going to kiss me?”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, completely wanting to tell her, No, I’m not going to kiss you. Not now. Not ever. But nothing else comes out.

She snickers again. “You totally want to kiss me.”

“Wring your neck more like it,” I growl at her.

She laughs at me again, and my lips twitch… again.

“Seriously though,” she says solemnly as she stops mid-stride and curls her hand around my forearm, which causes me to stop and turn to her. Her gaze is troubled, all traces of amusement gone. “I’m giving you a hard time. You don’t have to kiss me.”

I stare at her a thoughtful moment, my eyes moving over her beautifully innocent face. Her head tilts to the side, almost as if she’s trying to figure out what’s lurking inside my head.

“I’ll think about it,” I finally tell her. “And let you know when we get to your house.”

She beams a smile up at me. It causes my stomach to tighten and my skin to tingle, in a not wholly unpleasant way. So I’m guessing I already have my answer.

Jane moves her hand down my forearm, past my wrist, and slides her palm against mine. Her fingers curl around my own as she says, “The suspense is killing me. I hope it lasts. Willy Wonka, 1971.”

Smiling internally but never showing her that she amuses me, I don’t bother pulling my hand away from hers because it feels too damn nice. It’s soft and warm and secure against mine, unlike anything I’ve felt in my grasp before.

Instead, I just start walking, this time a bit quicker and with our hands firmly clasped together.

We walk past her parents’ house in silence, and the yappy dog the next house down is thankfully inside. Otherwise, Jane might be tempted to pull away from me to pet that ridiculously loud thing.

When we reach Jane’s house, she lets go of my hand and reaches into her purse to pull out a set of keys. Rather than unlock her door, she turns to me with her chin lifted in challenge. “Do you want to come in for a drink?”

“Not really,” I tell her truthfully, because, in my mind, if I step through that door, it’s going to be more than just a kiss. I’m not a gentleman, and I’m used to taking what I want. Jane will be in very real danger if I take her up on her offer.

She cocks an eyebrow at me skeptically. “I know no man who won’t accept an invitation in for a drink.”

“Is that really what you’re offering me?” I counter in a low voice.

She blinks at me in surprise. “Well, of course that’s what I’m offering. Is that wrong?”

“I thought you wanted a kiss,” I remind her.

“I do,” she says with her chin tilting higher. “But I figured we could have a drink… talk some more.”

God, she can’t be that fucking na?ve. And if she really is, I need to educate her a bit on the dangers of assuming nice things about me.

I step toward Jane, crowding her space and forcing her to step backward until her back flattens against the door. I take another half a step until our bodies are separated by just a few inches of air and vibrating tension. As I peer down at her, I take in the fact her breathing has gotten faster and her eyelids have dropped slightly. Her gaze lowers slowly until she focuses on my mouth, and fuck it all to hell… she licks her lips.

It takes a massive amount of sheer willpower not to touch her.

Grab her.

Fuck… maul her.

I want to fucking maul her like a damn savage, but that’s not me anymore.

I swear it’s not me.

Taking in a slow breath through my nose, I let it out quietly through my mouth before I tell her, “Jane… in my world, you invite a man inside your house, and he expects you to spread your legs for him.”

I hope to shock her and piss her off, so she’ll do what I can’t do in this moment, and that’s to realize this has disaster written all over it. I want to offend her notions of romance and sensibility, and send her scurrying away from me.

Instead, she raises her gaze to meet mine and whispers, “That wasn’t what I was offering, Kyle. Maybe later… after I get to know you a bit more, but for now… I really only want a kiss.”

Goddamn it.

I fucking want it too. And I’ll be more than happy with just a touch of her mouth on mine with the promise of nothing else in return. I can be satisfied with that.

I think.

I’m overwhelmed with a burst of anger toward her for her tenacity and ignorance of the ways of bad men, and I’m turned on beyond measure that, despite my scary attempts, she still wants something from me.

I bring a hand up and touch my fingers to her cheek in a move so gentle I don’t recognize myself. She lets out a small gust of air that sounds appreciative and accepting, but it turns into a tiny gasp when my hand slides back into her hair and I grip it in my fist. It’s not enough to hurt her, but it holds her tightly in place as I lower my face toward hers.

“I’m not a nice guy, Jane,” I warn her.

“You seem nice enough,” she says in a low murmur, but there’s enough sass there I have to suppress an involuntary smile.