“Of course you do.” Sarcasm drips off of every word, making me laugh.
“But I also love B. B. King. Sarah McLachlan. Alan Jackson. Maroon 5. Sugarland.”
“Wow, that’s quite a range of sounds.”
“I told you, I love music. I respect it all. It all evokes different emotions, feelings.”
She nods. “Where did it start for you? The music?”
“Birth.” I laugh and pull her to the side as a bicyclist zooms past us. “My dad played the guitar, and loved music. The radio was always on.”
“Did he teach you to play?” she asks as we walk into Sweet Treats and start staring at the menu.
“He did.”
“Should I get a milk shake?” she asks thoughtfully.
“Baby, my boys are already in your yard,” I reply, eyeing the brownie sundae.
She blinks, then bursts out laughing. “Now I have to get a milk shake.”
We place our order and, treats in hand, walk slowly back toward my car.
“How’s your shake?” I ask.
“Chocolatey,” she says, and then sighs. “Damn you, Jake!”
“What?”
“Now I have that damn song in my head!” She starts to dance, moving her shoulders and ass. “My milk shake brings all the boys to the yard . . .”
I stop and watch, laughing at her as she sings all the words, moving that sexier-than-fuck body.
I’m a first-class idiot for taking sex off the menu tonight.
“THANKS FOR DINNER,” Addie says as she unlocks her door. “And dessert. And putting that song in my head. It’ll be there for weeks.”
“You’re welcome.” I grip her shoulders and turn her to face me, then smile down at her softly. “It was all my pleasure.”
She’s staring up at me, biting her lip, her blue eyes wide and maybe a little scared.
I understand that completely. She scares the fuck out of me too.
I cage her in against her door and tug her lip out of her teeth with my thumb, then brush it over the plump skin.
“You make me crazy when you bite your lip like that,” I whisper.
“So you’ve said,” she replies, watching my own mouth. “Jake?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“Kissing me now would be nice.”
“Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”
“I’m not little.”
“Just bossy then.” I cup her cheek in my hand, loving the softness of her skin, the way she’s breathing just a bit harder, the way the pulse in her throat thrums against my wrist. I brush my nose across hers, just barely skimming my lips over hers. She inhales sharply as my lips gently nibble hers.
Fuck me, she’s sweet.
Her hands grip my shirt at my hips as she presses closer to me, and I kiss her earnestly now. She tastes like chocolate, and what I’m quite sure is simply Addie. The kiss is slow and thorough, taking her all in. Her lithe, long body is pressed to mine, her arms wrapped around my back now, her nails barely gripping on to my skin through my shirt.
God, I can’t control myself with her. My body, my emotions.
She devastates me.
I pull back, breathing hard. “Sleep well, baby.”
She shakes her head, as if clearing the lust from it so she can think straight. “You’re not coming in?”
I drag my fingertips down her cheek, her neck, then tip my forehead down against hers. “Trust me, I want to. I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life, Addison. But this isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon.”
“Did you just use a running analogy?”
I grin and kiss her softly. “Yes.”
“Okay.” She plants her hand on my chest and pushes me away, then opens the door to her back. “Good night.”
“Sleep well.”
She smiles and closes the door and I have to take a deep breath before walking back to my car. The drive home is fast, as there is little traffic at this time of night. My house is quiet as I walk through to the kitchen and drink orange juice out of the jug, then saunter into the living room and sit behind the piano.
Max is usually the one who writes music on the piano. I prefer the guitar. But the melody running through my head is piano.
So I sit and play, thinking of a certain stylish, funny-as-hell blonde. The sound of her laughter. The way her body moved as she sang on the sidewalk.
I play through the melody three times, committing it to memory, before walking up to my bedroom.
I miss her.
Jesus, I’m ridiculous. I just saw her an hour ago. And I was the idiot that chose to leave rather than take the invitation to come inside and bury myself in her for the rest of the night.
I’m a moron.
I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me. What is it about this woman that has me all tied in knots? Maybe I should stay away from her. Slow down. Give her some space.
Fuck that.
Finally, I reach for my phone and call her.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
“Are you okay?” She doesn’t sound sleepy, so I know I didn’t wake her up.
“I’m fine. I was just thinking about you.”
Silence.
“Why does that confuse you?” I ask.
“It doesn’t,” she lies and I can hear rustling. “Aren’t you supposed to wait three days to call the girl after a date?”
“This isn’t a game, Addie,” I reply, suddenly irritated. “We aren’t in high school. If I want to hear your voice, I’ll call you.”