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A Million Kisses or More Page 8
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“I thought you might be hungry,” she explained, stepping back with a pile of food in her arms. “I figured I’d make you something to eat.”
The unexpected thoughtfulness touched his pounding heart and made him feel even more lecherous. Unable to speak, he poured two cups of coffee and set one down on the table while blowing on the scalding coffee to help cool it off faster. Crossing his arms over his chest, awkwardly balancing his cup in one hand so it didn’t spill over his uniform, he asked, “Is there anything I can help you with?”
She gave him that smile and shook her head no. “But you might want to take off your jacket. I have the temperature set at 78.”
“It seemed much colder than that in your bedroom,” he said absently, putting his cup down before taking off his jacket. Once again, her eyes swept over his body, only this time there was no bulky coat in the way and he could feel her appreciation as a physical thing. He should have kept the blasted thing on because his unruly body was responding. Hell, his cock had been half hard from the moment he met her.
“Probably because my window won’t close all the way,” she said, shrugging it off as if it were no big deal when he knew for a fact that she wasn’t used to the cold weather. “When I opened it to yell at you, it got jammed on something and I can’t get it shut again.”
“I’ll have a look at it before I leave,” he offered before he remembered he had no desire to be in her bedroom. Actually, he had too much desire to be there, therefore it was a very bad idea. But he couldn’t let her freeze to death so he’d suck it up and close her damn window.
“Thank you,” she beamed, gifting him with that smile that made him feel ten feet tall.
“Eighteen,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing his cup and swallowing too much. It burned and it felt as if his mouth was on fire. He tried to act nonchalant when what he really wanted was a glass of ice water.
“Jesus, are you okay?” she asked, coming to his side and pulling the cup out of his hands. Obviously, he had failed miserably at pretending to be all right. Dumping the hot coffee down the drain, she refilled his cup with cool water. She pushed it back into his hand and then encouraged him to drink, not realizing that her breasts were pressed against his chest making his brain forget why his tongue was burning up.
“I should go,” he rasped, losing himself in her eyes as she stared up at him with genuine concern.
“You haven’t eaten anything yet,” she said, her voice soft and a little husky. Her tongue darted out and smoothed across her lower lip and his cock twitched. A quiet gasp slipped out of her mouth, letting him know that she was no longer unaware of his condition. But the little minx didn’t step back and let him keep a smidgen of his sanity. Instead, she remained where she was, neither moving away nor coming closer.
Her scent was filling his nostrils and making it impossible to think. Trying to hold his breath wasn’t working either because he could still smell her. “I really need to leave before I do something we’ll both regret.”
Pressing her hand over his racing heart, she lowered her lashes and murmured, “Will you stay if I promise to stay on my side of the room?” At his hesitation, she looked up at him through those lush lashes and added, “You need to eat.”
He swallowed audibly, every muscle in his body tight, prepared to either seize her or flee. He was a grown man, he could handle this. Besides, he was hungry and if he was being honest with himself, he wanted to spend some more time with Ana, despite the fact that she was too young for him. She made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time, perhaps forever. Clearing his throat and forcing his lips up into some semblance of a smile, he nodded and prayed his voice came out normal and not strangled. “I’ll stay.”
Again, she pushed up onto her toes and pressed her lips against his in a kiss that was over too soon and then she was gone, back to the other side of the table. One of these days, he was going to be fast enough and he was going to capture her before she could get away. When that day came, he could only hope he was strong enough to keep his lips to himself. Still slightly stunned, he could only watch as she sat down and looked up at him with those wide eyes, “What would you like on your sandwich?”
“Whatever you have,” he managed, unable to think about food when his body hungered for something far more carnal and far sweeter. Stumbling over to the table, he managed to sit down, shifting to ease the constriction against his erection.
“So, Jolie’s at your parents’ house?” she asked, making conversation, her eyes twinkling with laughter.
“Yes,” he said, relieved that she wasn’t pushing him anymore, even if that wasn’t her intention when she stood so close. Talking about his daughter was the perfect way to get his mind off other things, things his mind should never be on. “Because of my schedule, she spends a lot of time there. She loves it and my parents love having her there so it works out well for everyone.”
“Do your siblings still live at home?” she asked, sliding over a perfectly made sandwich as well as her full cup of coffee.
“Tanner is married and lives in town. Ellie is a freshman at the U of M and lives in the dorms,” he said, wondering if she was asking because she was interested in his younger brother who was close to her in age. The thought should make him happy but it kind of pissed him off. But then he realized he was being an idiot – again – and he pushed the traitorous thoughts way, way down. Taking a bite of his sandwich, wondering if it was prudent to make life altering decisions on the basis of how well a sandwich was made, he took a moment before he said, “But Dan sill lives at home. He goes to the local tech college.”
“Nice,” she said, obviously not interested in talking about his brother, which appeased the green eyed beast in his belly. Fidgeting in her seat, stealing glances at him, she was struggling to keep silent but it was apparently too difficult. After a moment, she spoke. “Dan said you moved back up here after your divorce. What happened?”
He smiled because she didn’t continue on with the usual mindless and inconsequential small talk; she went right in for the kill. “Well, my senior year of high school, my girlfriend got pregnant so I joined the military. We got married, the marriage didn’t work out, we got divorced. When I got out of the military, I moved back up here because my family was here and I wanted that for my daughter.”
“I’m sure there’s a lot you’re leaving out,” she said, pulling her foot onto the chair and wrapping her arms around her knee. The simple gesture made her look so damn young and he felt another twinge in his conscience. Just a few more minutes and then he’d leave her alone.
“I’m sure I am, too,” he grinned. “However, it’s late and I’m not going to give you my entire life story, especially since it’s so much longer than yours.”
A slight smile played at her lips but she simply nodded, “Fair enough. But I do want to hear the details someday.”
“Someday,” he agreed, finishing up the food. “Maybe.”
Her adorable nose crinkled as she thought about his words. “When is Jolie’s birthday?”
“I know what you’re trying to do, Ana,” he grinned. He knew he should be mad at her for prying but she was so adorable in trying not to ask that he couldn’t help but smile. “And, yes, Jolie is a prom baby.”
She tilted her head to the side and he found himself mirroring the position. Her tongue swept over her lower lip and he almost lost track of the conversation until she asked, “Was it your first time?”
“Yes,” he deadpanned, enjoying the way her lips parted in surprise. Smirking wryly, he shook his head, “We were together for a long time before that. So, no, it wasn’t our first time.”
She snorted, “I bet.”
Grinning at her, he leaned closer as he said, “It was our first time in a hotel, though.”
Her brows drew together as she asked, “Who was dumb enough to get a room for you?”
A snort of laughter escaped before he answered, “Her parents.”
Sittin
g here, talking like this, it was easy to forget just how very young she was. There was something about her that just drew him in and he was hesitant to let it go, even though he knew it was the right thing to do. As long as he never forgot who he was while in her presence, he’d be able to keep his hands and lustful thoughts to himself. Later, when he was alone, he’d write out his fantasies and maybe he’d get her out of his system by living vicariously through Justice.
“And what did her parents think of you spending prom in a hotel?” she asked, bringing him back to the present.
He shrugged his shoulders and fought the blush he could feel rising up his neck, “They got us two rooms and they trusted me to stay in my room. Which I did.”
She grinned at him as she waggled her eyebrows, “But your girlfriend didn’t stay in hers.”
“Nope.”
She leaned closer and he swore he could smell her strawberry scent even though there was still a table between them. “I don’t think I’d have been able to stay away either.”
Pride infused his entire body at her words, knowing they were being foolish and he was a fool for staying. “You really shouldn’t say such things to me. You don’t know what kind of man I am.”
“An honorable one, I imagine,” she replied simply.
“I’d like to think so,” he returned, troubled that she would think that of him when he was lusting after her like she was the answer to all of his wickedest prayers.
As if sensing his unease, she asked, “So you grew up here?”
“Yep,” he answered, taking a mental breath of relief that she hadn’t continued telling him what kind of man she thought he was. “I’ve lived here all of my life except for the years I was in the military.”
“What branch?” she asked.
“Army,” he answered. “I joined when Carrie found out she was pregnant because it was training and an income. Not too bad for an eighteen-year-old kid with an unexpected baby on the way. Carrie hated it.”
“Where does she live now?”
He smiled, “Minneapolis. She prefers the city life to this.”
“So living here, you’re close enough for your ex to visit,” Ana said softly, her eyes uncertain as if she was silently asking him if there was anything still between him and his ex.
“And far enough away to discourage any visits,” he said, seeing the immediate relief in her expressive face. He shouldn’t be encouraging her. “We’re much better off as exes than we were as a couple.”
“Were you the crazy one or was she?” she asked.
He chuckled, “At the time, I think we were both a little crazy.”
“But obviously you’re a little less crazy since you have Jolie.”
“Perhaps,” he answered, not wanting to admit how terrified he had been when Carrie decided she no longer wanted to be a wife and mother and had taken off in the middle of the night while he was still in the army. But he had no regrets now because Jolie was the most precious thing in the world to him, and to his parents. “When we first moved back up here, we lived in an apartment in town but then this house went up for sale last year and I jumped on it. I wanted someplace safe and spacious to raise my daughter.”
“And yet you showed up with your gun drawn because you were afraid something might have happened to me?” she asked with a wry smile. She reached across to put her hand on his arm but then hesitated, drawing her hand away before she touched him. At least she was trying to keep her end of the bargain, though he wouldn’t have minded a soft touch.
“It wasn’t my gun,” he corrected her, his heart picking up its pace in his chest. He should have known she was perfectly safe in this house but a part of him, a large part of him, had wanted to see her. That’s why it was so easy to believe the absurd fantasy that she was in danger. If a part of him wanted to be Justice coming to her rescue… well, he wasn’t going to think about that. “It was my Taser.”
“Being jolted by a million volts makes me feel so much better,” she said, rolling her eyes even as she grinned at him.
“I wouldn’t have used it on you.” Her smile was contagious and he found himself smiling back.
“If there had been a burglar in my house, I think I would have preferred you drew your gun.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
“Of course, if you really want an excuse to see me, all you have to do is come on over,” she said. “It’s not like I’d slam the door in your face.”
Ignoring her tempting offer, thinking about the sexy southern drawl, he asked, “Where are you from?”
She smiled at him, aware of his blatant evasion. “All over. When I was young, my mom and I travelled a lot for her business, though I usually spent my summers with my aunt and uncle or my grandparents. I’ve been living in Savannah with my grandparents since I was fourteen so I guess that’s where I’m from.”
“So you drove here from Georgia?”
“I did,” she answered with a slight smile.
That seemed like a lot of driving but just to quench his curiosity, he asked, “And you’ll be driving out to California?”
“Yes.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of flying?”
She laughed. God, he loved her laugh. “I hate flying.”
“A lot of people have a fear of flying….”
“I don’t fear it, not exactly,” she said. Pursing her lips, she started to explain, “When I was younger, my mom and I flew everywhere. Whenever it got a little bumpy, she’d wrap her arms around me until it was over. The first time I flew solo, the turbulence was so bad it felt as if the plane was being torn apart. In my mind, it was a warning.”
Tilting his head to the side, he asked, “How so?”
“I had basically told my mother to go to Hell and then I told her that I was going to live with my grandparents. She didn’t stop me even though I saw the hurt and longing in her eyes,” she said flatly. He could see the pain in her eyes and he wanted to know more but she didn’t know him well enough yet. Maybe someday he would learn her secrets. With a casual shrug, she continued, “I figure the next time I fly, the plane will go down. That’s why I drive whenever I can. It’s… less risky. And, yes, I know the statistics but they don’t seem to matter.”
There was a hint of laughter in her voice so he smiled as he said, “You poor thing.”
She grinned back as she said, “Yeah, well, it was the first time I really threw a temper tantrum and I made the most of it.”
He chuckled, glad to see the hurt receding even though he still had a million more questions. Still smiling, he asked, “Well, what about your dad?”
As her lashes lowered, he wished he would have kept the question to himself even though he was interested in hearing the answer. Though he could hear the strain in her voice, see it in the set of her shoulders. she answered breezily, “He’s not in the picture.”
Even though it was none of his business, he asked, “Why not?”
She huffed out a wry laugh, “It’s funny you should ask. He’s the reason I threw my temper tantrum.”
This was too interesting to ignore, so he silently encouraged her to continue. Making a face at him, she did after a moment. “My mom was an aspiring actress and while she was pretty enough to get parts in music videos, she couldn’t act to save her life, which is funny since all she does is act. Anyway, I was the result of a fling with some guy she met during one of these shoots, she’s just not sure which one.”
“Your mother actually told you that?” At her nod, he winced in sympathy, “Ouch.”
“It wasn’t something any fourteen-year-old wanted to hear about her parents,” Ana said with a self-deprecating sound. “Especially since I wanted my parents’ love story to be a grand, tragically beautiful love affair, like she couldn’t be with him because he gave his last breath protecting her or he was some fantastically wealthy prince of a foreign land and he couldn’t marry her because she was just a commoner and she couldn’t stay with him because she couldn’t bea
r to watch him marry someone else. Apparently, I read way too many gothic romance novels growing up.”
“Poor Ana,” he murmured.
“It seemed a lot worse when I was younger,” she admitted with a mocking grin.
“You must have gotten your looks from her,” he said, because the girl sitting in front of him was fast becoming the prettiest woman he had ever seen.
She snorted, “I look nothing like my mom, except for my hair.” Grabbing her braid, she held it up and grimaced, though he thought it was beautiful. “Strawberry blond. Mom has these intense amber eyes that can just look into a person’s soul. She’s elegant and fashionable and glamorous and I’m just me, a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl.”
“You’re beautiful,” he blurted, briefly wondering if she was strawberry blond all over or if she preferred no hair between her slender thighs. Both held their appeal because that meant he was with her while she was naked. He shifted slightly to make room for his surging erection, hoping he wasn’t too obvious.
Going. To. Hell.
A rosy blush stole over her cheeks and with her red hair, she turned red all over. “Thanks. Anyway, I figure I must take after my father.”
“Then he must be a very pretty man,” he teased, wanting to see that smile again.
She stared at him a moment and then tilted her head back and laughed, the sound doing strange and wonderful things to his insides. He was so screwed. Why couldn’t she be a few years older or maybe a little less appealing? God, if he didn’t have to work, he’d stay there all night and just talk with her, which was infinitely more dangerous than just fucking her and being done with it. He genuinely liked her.
Leaning back in his chair, he let out a long sigh, “I should probably let you get back to sleep. I do have streets to patrol and keep safe, after all.”