Ready or Not (The Ready Series Book 4)(27)

He nodded, rocking back on his heels. “How is the football star?”

No *footing around tonight.

Jackson’s eyes sparked with anger, making his motivation on that field days earlier very apparent.

“Why does he bother you so much?” I asked, stepping closer as my own anger began to rise.

“For the same reasons Don Juan, or whatever his name is, bothers me. Neither of them are good enough for you. And they aren’t me.”

His confession caught me completely off guard, and my anger seeped away.

“And you are good enough?” I asked softly.

His intense gaze met mine, sincerity pouring out of his memorizing stare.

“I’d damn well try to be.”

Like a flash, he was on me—his lips, his hands, and his entire presence. My breath hitched in surprise as my body melted into his, molding around him as if I’d been made to do so.

My mouth opened, and his tongue found mine, caressing and moving together like we were long-lost lovers. His fingers twisted into my hair, pulling me closer. I felt every hard inch of his body pressed against mine.

Holy shit, I am kissing Jackson Reid.

I was making out with my * neighbor.

My body went rigid with panic. Feeling the shift in my demeanor, Jackson slowed, pressing sweet kisses to my lips and cheek.

“You’re pulling away,” he stated.

“Don’t you think we should talk about this?”

His eyebrows rose, but his position didn’t change. His arms remained firmly wrapped around me. “Sure, but don’t pull away from me, Liv.”

“I just need to know, what are we doing, Jackson?” I looked up at him and watched his expression turn mischievous.

“As in right now? Or a couple of minutes ago?”

I playfully slapped his arm, causing him to laugh.

“I mean, in general. This. What is this?” I made a motion that encapsulated the two of us.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

I sighed, slightly stepping back. His playful attitude faltered as his fingers moved up my arms.

“It’s just that I don’t do this well.”

“And what is this?” he asked.

I threw my hands up in frustration. “I don’t know. I thought you would know.”

He laughed. “Then, how do you know you do it so poorly?”

“Because I do. Intimacy and relationships,” I said, nearly shuddering over the words, “I suck at them. I’ve never managed to stay in one longer than a few months.”

“Maybe you’re just dating the wrong guys?”

I looked up at him and smiled. “Maybe.”

“Besides, Liv, so far we’ve only just made out a little on your patio. Lay off the doom and gloom. Aren’t you the therapist? Shouldn’t you be spouting off this ridiculous crap?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. “You know how they say, Never marry a chef if you love to eat?”

“Uh…no. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say that.”

“Well, they do,” I said. “And the reason is, chefs rarely cook for themselves. It’s like a housecleaner with the dirtiest house on the block. Didn’t you know counselors are the most screwed-up people of them all?”

He shook his head. “Well, that’s reassuring.”

“I’m kidding—mostly. But you’re right. I’m jumping way ahead of myself. You might not even want to date me,” I said.

“Hold up,” he replied. Stepping forward, he slid his hand around my waist and pulled me tight against him. “I want to date you,” he whispered.

He kissed the nape of my neck, which sent shivers up and down my spine.

“Only you, Liv. Okay?”

Words failed me, so I nodded.

“But I’m going to need you to get rid of the football player and Don Juan.”

“There is no football player,” I said softly.

Pulling back, he looked at me in confusion. “What?”

“I didn’t go out with him. I never wanted to.”

“Then, why? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Only me, Liv, okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then, we will figure out the rest later. Right now, I just want to kiss you again,” he said right before his lips melted back into mine.

I’m okay with that.





Liv

“You’re going on a date with your hot neighbor?” Mia squeaked into the phone.

I moved around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for one. “Yeah. Am I crazy?”

“To go out with a hot guy on a Saturday? Wait—he’s taking you out during the day?”

I laughed, putting the last smear of almond butter on my toast, as I took a seat on the sofa.

“Yeah, that’s the plan—or at least the only part I am privy to. He won’t tell me where we are going or what we will be doing. He only said to wear comfortable clothes and to be prepared to get dirty.” I shook my head, remembering his early morning phone call.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice coming in clear and vibrant across the airwaves.

I stretched, brushing my legs across the silky sheets. “Good morning,” I greeted, my voice still hoarse from sleep.