Until I Saw You(9)

“There’s nothing wrong with being peaceful, Jessie. It’s something most would kill to have in their lives.”

I think about his words while I fix the coffeemaker. I hear a chair scrape against the floor and look over to see Allen pulling out a stool from the bar. He sits down, but he looks extremely uncomfortable.

“You don’t look at peace right now, Allen.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” he mumbles, rubbing the side of his face as he looks at me.

“Why not?”

“I’m… We’re never going to work.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, blinking. I feel like he slapped me; that’s how dramatically his words jar me.

“Jessie, you and I are too different.”

“I don’t remember us ever dating for you to determine anything about me.”

“There’s a pull between us. You can’t deny that. I know you felt it that day in your shop,” he says.

“This always happens to me,” I grumble under my breath.

“What happens?”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I hadn’t planned on him hearing me, but it doesn’t really matter.

“What happens?” he asks again, stressing the words.

“Crazy men,” I mutter with a sigh.

“What?”

“I attract crazy men.”

“Jessie—”

“Allen, I really like you.”

“I—”

“And I mean, I really like you. I like you in a I’m-thinking-of-sneaking-into-my-bedroom-and-putting-on-my-good-underwear kind of way.”

I watch as my words register and, despite the worries clogging his mind, he starts laughing.

“I prefer no underwear if you were wondering.”

“That would be good advice and maybe I would listen if you weren’t sitting at my table wishing you were anywhere else.”

“Jessie—”

“If you want to go, Allen, just go. But if you want to stay, how about I fix some dinner, we watch a movie and actually get to know each other before you decide we don’t even deserve a shot?”

“Trust me, Jessie. I’m only trying to protect you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be protected,” I answer.

“It’s too late to cook. I can take you out—”

“How about I order a pizza?”

He studies me and I’m pretty sure he wants to say no, but for whatever reason he nods his head in agreement.

I smile, really glad I won this battle—even if I’m not sure why.





8





Jessie





“Jessie.” Allen’s voice wakes me up.

My eyes open slowly and I look around. I’m on my sofa, lying against Allen’s side. His arms are around me and my head is on his chest. I close my eyes again and drink in the pleasure of being here—like this—with Allen. It’s been a perfect night. Well, it has been since he decided to stay. We talked, we held hands, ate pizza and watched a marathon of Bruce Willis movies.

“Hi,” I whisper, opening my eyes once again, but more slowly this time.

“Sleepyhead.” He smiles as his finger drags across my cheek. “I take it you’re not a Sixth Sense fan?”

He’s right… I’m not. I saw the outcome of that movie a mile off the first time I watched it. But I’m a very big fan of Allen. This might be the single best night of my life and he hasn’t even kissed me yet.

“I liked the Die Hard ones.” I grin. His finger slides back and forth, closer and closer to my mouth. When I smile his thumb rests on my lip. It brushes against the small opening where my lips meet. On instinct I open, letting the thumb push deeper in.

“You’re a dangerous woman, Jessie Hart,” Allen murmurs, his dark eyes staring at me so intently they shine, reminding me of liquid—hot, molten liquid.

I find myself licking the tip of his thumb. I don’t do it intentionally; I just can’t stop myself. I watch Allen’s face tighten, and he takes a breath that travels through him so noticeably I’m hypnotized at the way his chest moves. I bring my gaze back to his face and I can read the desire there.

Desire for me.

“Dangerous?” I ask, every nerve ending in my body feeling as if it is on fire.

“Very dangerous,” he responds. His thumb pushes deeper and I bite on the tip, my eyes never leaving his. “Dangerous to my peace of mind,” he says and then his thumb is gone and his hands latch onto my upper arms and he pulls me up farther along his body.

“Allen,” I gasp, just as his lips crash down on mine.

It’s an intense kiss that takes my breath away. He takes control of my mouth, devouring me. Our tongues tangle as if they’re warring with each other. His hand moves to my neck and he holds me in place, leaving me unable to pull away even if I wanted to—which I don’t. It’s a kiss like I’ve never experienced. It steals my breath and my ability to do anything other than to submit to his demands. I do that willingly. Without my realizing it, my hands go to his back, my nails digging in, and he groans into my mouth. I swallow it down, matching it with my own. His fingers move down to the curve of my breast. I feel him squeeze it, his fingers brushing against my nipple, and I whimper because it feels so good, but I wish I could feel it without my shirt and bra in the way.