The Lineup(64)

I guess I can’t be mad, because even though we don’t have our tongues down each other’s throats, at least he’s holding me. I’ve never simply sat like this with a guy, enjoying the quiet, content in his arms. It makes me feel . . . safe. Adored. And that right there should be good enough for me.

Right?





“I’m tired,” Jason says, startling me from staring at my page. “I’m going to bed.”

He strokes my arm lightly with his fingers, once again skyrocketing my pulse.

“What about you? Are you going to stay up a little longer?”

I shake my head and lift myself out of his embrace, feeling incredibly hot all of a sudden. I stand from the couch and release the straps of the robe I’m wearing, revealing one of the silk nightgowns I brought with me.

Jason looks up at me, his eyes quickly traveling down my body before he clears his throat and stands as well.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Yeah . . . me too,” he says awkwardly, setting his book down on the coffee table. He grabs the back of his neck, looking me in the eyes for a brief second before his eyes travel down my body once again, taking longer to observe my breasts. I know my nipples are hard, I can feel them press against the silk of the fabric, and it’s obvious Jason sees them too from the way he tries not to look at them.

Maybe I was going about this seduction thing entirely the wrong way.

I let my robe drop all the way off my arms and then toss it over the back of the couch. I run my hand over my chest and say, “I didn’t realize how hot I was until just now. You’re like a furnace.”

“Yeah, it did get pretty hot in here, huh?” He pulls at his shirt, wafting air inside. “Should I put water on the fire?”

I shake my head. “It’s just embers, and they’ll die down soon.”

“Yeah, okay.” He glances at my breasts again.

I step forward and press my hand against his chest as one of the straps to my nightgown falls down my shoulder. His eyes travel with its descent and then find mine again.

“Thank you for tonight. For today, saving us from the bear, the dinner. It was a lot of fun.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, his voice growing soft. He lifts his arm and with the slightest touch, he slowly brings the strap of my nightgown back up my shoulder and then he leaves his hand there, in the crook of my shoulder and neck. His thumb travels along my collarbone, back and forth, back and forth as he stares into my eyes. “You did a good job in the kitchen.”

“You think?” I ask, stepping in a little closer, the moment intensifying, sparking with awareness.

“Yeah, I do. A few more lessons and you’ll be inviting me over for dinner.”

“You might be pushing your luck.” I smile at him.

He smiles back.

And then we stare.

Our breaths heavy, our needs evident in our body language, in the grip we have on each other.

Just do it. Just lean down and kiss me. Please take away this ache I feel in my bones.

His thumb moves tantalizingly over my collarbone, slower, more deliberate.

His eyes burn with heat, quietly communicating.

His chest leans in, brushing against my hard nipples.

And when my hand climbs to his neck, he sucks in a sharp breath right before stepping away, putting a good two feet between us, and draining all the air from my lungs in defeat.

“Uh, yeah, bed. I’m going to go to bed.” He walks backward and trips over a side table, falling flat on his ass.

Thunk.

The cabin floors shake from the massive male that just fell to the floor, the vibration rocking center.

He quickly scrambles up, pulling on the table for assistance, only for it to start to tip over, sending the table lamp careening to the floor with a crash.

“Shit,” he mumbles, while gathering the lamp and its cord. Haphazardly he attempts to wrap the cord around the trunk of the lamp but fails miserably as the trunk is thin, and he has to wrap it multiple times. Finally he gives up, sets it on the table on its side, and then stands.

With a loud laugh, too loud of a laugh, like he’s trying to use his laugh to erase the memory of him fumbling around from my memory, he claps his hands, points at me with playful finger guns, and then takes off without another word.

What the hell was that?

I’ll tell you what it wasn’t.

It wasn’t a good-night kiss. Nor was it an invitation back to his room. Instead, his pride is probably bruised and his libido is shot from embarrassment. Perfect.

But what really is starting to chap my ass, is why he didn’t kiss me in that moment. What held him back? I saw it in his eyes. I saw it in his body. So why the hesitation?

Maybe because he doesn’t want to start anything with me.

I don’t sleep well. My mind whirls with what I could have possibly done wrong. What could have turned him off. But the more I think about it, the more I know I did nothing wrong. I was clear in my intentions. I did everything but jump his bones . . . and he still turned away.

Which only means one thing: he’s not interested.

I’m totally screwed with this deal.

And now I’m mad.





Chapter Eighteen





JASON





“I need help,” I whisper, keeping a look out for Dottie through the car window.