condo, leaving the car running. During the ride, he’d not spoken since he’d informed her why he was the one driving, nor had he pushed her hand off his leg. On an impulse, she leaned across the console and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.
“Thanks for the ride.” She grabbed her purse before turning to open the door.
“Sugar,” he said, sounding like a pissed off, growling dog.
Pulling her back to him, he curled long fingers around the nape of her neck and covered her mouth with his. The revulsion she’d been afraid would rear its ugly head the first time a man’s mouth touched hers was nonexistent.
Oh, God. So that was how it felt to be kissed by someone who she actually wanted to kiss her. It was wonderful, marvelous—spectacular even. He teased her lips with little nip s, and then he slid his tongue inside her mouth.
Afraid he would stop if she responded the way she wanted, she tentatively touched her tongue to his. He tasted like tart lemons, and she gave a little sigh of pleasure. Remembering she’d wanted to touch his arm, she placed her hand on his forearm, feeling his muscles flex under her palm. She sensed he held back, but she didn’t know how to let him know he could devour her if he wished. She gave a little sigh of impatience, and he stilled.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
His hand slid away from her neck and he pulled away. It was too dark to see his eyes, to know if there was regret in them. “That was nice,” she said, then cringed at how mundane that sounded considering her body was tingling all over.
“Pink pikes,” he muttered.
Judging by his tone, he wasn’t happy. “Word games again?”
“Go inside, Sugar.” He stared straight ahead.
“Okay, but please don’t be sorry you kissed me. I’m not.”
He finally looked at her. “I’ll pick you up at eight to take you to your car.”
All righty then. He wanted to act as if it hadn’t happened. “Thanks again.” She opened the door and the wind slammed it closed. “Well, hell.”
Needing to get away before she begged him to kiss her again, she pushed hard on the door and scrambled out of the car. Having lost her umbrella, she put her purse over her head and ran to her condo. Once inside, she peeked out the window just in time to see his taillights disappear into the downpour.
“Meep.”
“Hey, Junior, my boy. Guess what?” She picked him up and carried him into the kitchen, setting him on the counter. “Since you’re not going to hear a word I say until your belly’s full, I’ll wait to tell ya my news.”
Opening a can of cat food, she spooned it into his bowl, then poured herself a glass of wine. In the living room, she turned on her stereo and curled up on her couch to wait for Junior. As she sipped her wine and listened to Adele, she studied the room.
It had taken the past year to slowly decorate the condo the way she wanted, with a mix of contemporary and odd things that caught her interest. She was renting it, but some day, she’d like to buy the place if she stayed in Pensacola. Of course, it depended on whether or not she continued to feel safe.
She glanced at the silver frame holding the picture of her make-believe parents. Pretending they were her mom and dad was kind of stupid if she thought about it too hard, but sometimes she would look at the couple holding the hands of the child between them as they walked along the beach and remember the good times, before her mother died and her father started drinking.
One day her mother had been fine and the next, she was gone, an aneurysm at the age of thirty-three. Ten-year-old Hannah had come home from school and found her mother sprawled on the kitchen floor, and life had never been the same after that.
She had not only lost her mother that day, but her father as well. In his own personal grief, he’d all but forgotten he had a daughter. One he’d used to lovingly call his sweet sugar. Two years later, the bank had foreclosed on their home, the only one
“Thanks for the ride.” She grabbed her purse before turning to open the door.
“Sugar,” he said, sounding like a pissed off, growling dog.
Pulling her back to him, he curled long fingers around the nape of her neck and covered her mouth with his. The revulsion she’d been afraid would rear its ugly head the first time a man’s mouth touched hers was nonexistent.
Oh, God. So that was how it felt to be kissed by someone who she actually wanted to kiss her. It was wonderful, marvelous—spectacular even. He teased her lips with little nip s, and then he slid his tongue inside her mouth.
Afraid he would stop if she responded the way she wanted, she tentatively touched her tongue to his. He tasted like tart lemons, and she gave a little sigh of pleasure. Remembering she’d wanted to touch his arm, she placed her hand on his forearm, feeling his muscles flex under her palm. She sensed he held back, but she didn’t know how to let him know he could devour her if he wished. She gave a little sigh of impatience, and he stilled.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
His hand slid away from her neck and he pulled away. It was too dark to see his eyes, to know if there was regret in them. “That was nice,” she said, then cringed at how mundane that sounded considering her body was tingling all over.
“Pink pikes,” he muttered.
Judging by his tone, he wasn’t happy. “Word games again?”
“Go inside, Sugar.” He stared straight ahead.
“Okay, but please don’t be sorry you kissed me. I’m not.”
He finally looked at her. “I’ll pick you up at eight to take you to your car.”
All righty then. He wanted to act as if it hadn’t happened. “Thanks again.” She opened the door and the wind slammed it closed. “Well, hell.”
Needing to get away before she begged him to kiss her again, she pushed hard on the door and scrambled out of the car. Having lost her umbrella, she put her purse over her head and ran to her condo. Once inside, she peeked out the window just in time to see his taillights disappear into the downpour.
“Meep.”
“Hey, Junior, my boy. Guess what?” She picked him up and carried him into the kitchen, setting him on the counter. “Since you’re not going to hear a word I say until your belly’s full, I’ll wait to tell ya my news.”
Opening a can of cat food, she spooned it into his bowl, then poured herself a glass of wine. In the living room, she turned on her stereo and curled up on her couch to wait for Junior. As she sipped her wine and listened to Adele, she studied the room.
It had taken the past year to slowly decorate the condo the way she wanted, with a mix of contemporary and odd things that caught her interest. She was renting it, but some day, she’d like to buy the place if she stayed in Pensacola. Of course, it depended on whether or not she continued to feel safe.
She glanced at the silver frame holding the picture of her make-believe parents. Pretending they were her mom and dad was kind of stupid if she thought about it too hard, but sometimes she would look at the couple holding the hands of the child between them as they walked along the beach and remember the good times, before her mother died and her father started drinking.
One day her mother had been fine and the next, she was gone, an aneurysm at the age of thirty-three. Ten-year-old Hannah had come home from school and found her mother sprawled on the kitchen floor, and life had never been the same after that.
She had not only lost her mother that day, but her father as well. In his own personal grief, he’d all but forgotten he had a daughter. One he’d used to lovingly call his sweet sugar. Two years later, the bank had foreclosed on their home, the only one
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