Hannah pulled the keys from a small bag, glanced around the half-empty lot, then up at him. “Thanks for coming. And for the movie, and dinner, and…”
“And what?”
Her gaze settled on his mouth and she bit her lip. “And the ice cream.”
“Ice cream?” He smiled and circled her waist with his hands. “And I thought you were going to thank me for the kiss.”
Embarrassment stained her cheeks as he’d known it would.
He slipped his fingers into her hair and kissed her again, slowly at first, giving her time to get used to him. He could teach her so much about the ways of kissing, of pleasure. He moved one hand down to her lower back and pulled her closer. Her lips parted and he deepened the kiss, loving the feel of her slender arms wound around his neck. With the weight of her head in his hand, her body pressed against his, every other kiss with every other woman evaporated.
He raised his head and wrapped her in his arms because it was cool out and because he didn’t want to let her go just yet. She gazed up at him, her chin resting against his chest. Her long hair blew around them both and he let the strands brush across his face before smoothing it back from her eyes. God help him, she was breathtaking, and looking down into her upturned face pulled at something deep inside him.
“This is the third time I’ve said goodbye to you at a car. When am I going to graduate to the front door? Hmm?” She tensed against him. “Are you always this nervous or is it just me?” He’d asked it lightly, partly a joke, but…he’d sensed something too. A heightened sense of awareness. Just her personality?
Then he thought of all the reasons she should be afraid of him. That dark streak he’d discovered years ago. During the trial, and even worse after.
She lowered her arms. “I don’t know.”
“Is it your watchdog brothers? What do they think? I’m going to kidnap you, tie you up in my basement?”
He heard and felt the breath she sucked in before she spun away from him. “Shit. Hannah, I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.” Damn it. After all the times she’d been tentative, hesitant.
He laid a hand on her shoulder and she hunched away from him as much as the space would allow.
She fumbled with her key fob, dropped it, bent to grab it, and dropped it again before straightening. “I need to go.”
“Hey.” He closed his fingers around her wrist and felt her entire body go stiff. Shit. He needed to touch her, but he dropped his hand.
Her car gave a beep and the locks opened.
“Hannah, please. Don’t go yet. I’m sorry.”
She still faced her car, but didn’t open the door.
“Look at me.” He could have counted his heartbeats waiting for her to turn, afraid he’d lost all the ground of trust he’d gained in the last eight hours.
Finally, she turned and gave him a half-smile. “It’s okay. I just need to go.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
He silently thanked God when her face softened. Not wanting to waste an answered prayer, he kissed her cheek. Then with nothing more, he opened her door. “Lock up,” he told her through the glass. He heard the click, the start of the engine, then he watched until her taillights disappeared into the night.
Damn, he was in trouble. Because if there was something in between everything and nothing, he was going to have it with Hannah.
—
Three days later, Hannah washed and dried her hands in her bathroom, catching herself in the mirror on the way out. She looked different. Happy. Not that she was normally unhappy, but there was a new spark there that even she could see. And that spark was Stephen. She still felt the heat of his firm lips moving against hers, his muscled shoulders under her hands.
She replayed the kiss for the millionth time. His mouth had been soft, his lips persuasive. He wouldn’t know it was her first, would likely be appalled if he did. If he knew what it meant to her that she’d trusted him enough to get that close. She touched her lips and smiled into the mirror. Yeah, she liked him. A lot.
She walked into the main room, noting the way Zach was slumped comfortably on her couch, in contrast to Luke’s coiled energy in a nearby chair. Both content to let Nick cook.
“Hey, Nicky.” Zach waggled an empty beer can over his head. “Bring me another one while you’re up, would you?”
Nick sent a deadly look over his shoulder from where he stood at the stove. “I’m not up, ass wipe. I’m cooking your dinner.”
Hannah took the can as she passed. “I thought firemen were supposed to know how to cook.”
Zach settled deeper and propped his feet on the coffee table. “Who says I don’t? But why would I when Nick’s so good at it?”
Nick cursed under his breath. “You better hope you find a woman who’s into nurturing.”
“Nurturing?” Luke sipped his beer. “He needs to be nursed. Look at him. He wouldn’t even dress himself if it wasn’t required by law.”
“Who says I do dress myself, Skywalker? Had some very beautiful help this morning.”
“Eww.” Hannah scrunched her nose, returning with the beer. “TMI, Zach.”
“Who was it this time?” Luke asked. “Candy? Brandy? Mandy? You’re like a fucking Dr. Seuss.”
Zach grinned, twisting off the bottle top. “You forgot Bambi.”
“That doesn’t rhyme, idiot.”
Zach countered with a pillow flung hard at Luke’s face, almost knocking over a lamp.