“You’re very sexy.” I echo her previous remark, my voice coming out hoarse.

She smirks. “I know.”

“And cocky.”

“That, too.”

“Guess that makes us two peas in a pod?”

“Maybe. And that’s probably why we’d never work.”

I tip my head. “Work…what do you mean, work?”

“As a couple.”

My answering laugh is low, seductive. “Who says I want us to be a couple? Right now I want to see if there’s chemistry.”

Brenna leans in closer, her warm breath tickling my jaw. She places one hand on my knee and strokes me with her thumb before gliding her hand very slowly toward my crotch. There’s no possible way she can miss the bulge in my pants. She doesn’t cup or squeeze it. But one fingernail scrapes along the edge of the hard ridge, and I groan out loud.

“Of course we have chemistry,” she says, her perfect mouth inches from my face. “We both know we have chemistry. There’s never been a single doubt as to whether or not we have chemistry.” She flicks up an eyebrow. “So why don’t you cut this bullshit about needing to find out, and just tell me what you really want.”

“Fine,” I answer, because I’m not one to back down from a challenge. “I want to kiss you.”

16

Brenna

Nothing good can come from kissing Jake. But my defenses are weak at the moment. Ed Mulder chipped away at my armor all night, once again proving that every interaction with that man is a complete waste of time. Thanks to him, my nerves are raw, and my stomach is full of cognac.

And Jake is seriously attractive. His chiseled face could stop traffic. His broad, athletic body could cause a ten-car pileup. Basically, if you’re in a car and spot Jake Connelly? You’re in grave danger.

I eye his lips. They’re not pouty, but the bottom one is a tad fuller than the top. I can’t deny that when those lips brushed mine at the concert last weekend, I wanted more. I wanted a real kiss. And I still want it now. I want to taste him. To hear the sound he makes when my tongue slips into his mouth.

Anticipation quickens my pulse. “One kiss,” I concede.

“You won’t be satisfied with just one.”

The arrogant gleam in his eyes is such a turn-on for me. I like guys like this. Direct, assertive, and self-assured. Alpha, but not the kind of alpha that orders you around and gets too overbearing.

Jake possesses an easy confidence, a surety about who he is and what he wants. I guess that’s why I was so quick to forgive him for his behavior at the dinner party. Not only do I have a slight (okay, fine, more than slight) fondness for cocky asses, but I appreciate a man who goes after what he wants. That’s the difference between Jake and someone like Mike Hollis. Hollis is confident, but at the end of the day he’s not the guy who’d slide into my side of the booth and tell me he’s going to kiss me. Hollis would wait for me to kiss him.

And why am I thinking about Hollis right now?

I trail my fingers up Jake’s thigh and inch them toward his chest. His muscles are so defined I can feel the tantalizing ridges even with him wearing a shirt. I stroke him over his dark-blue button-down, a quick tease that brings heat to his eyes. When my fingers reach his collarbone, his Adam’s apple twitches as he gulps.

I smile faintly. “Everything all right?”

“Good. I’m good.” He clears his throat.

My hand reaches its destination—his insanely beautiful face. I rub his bottom lip with the pad of my thumb. His gaze grows impossibly hotter. Before I can blink, long fingers tangle in my hair and there’s a big hand cupping the back of my neck.

Jake brings my head forward and slants his lips over mine, and it’s the kind of kiss that’s been missing from my life for so long. One that starts off as a slow burn, a soft meeting of lips and the feather-light flick of the tongue. It’s like he’s laying the groundwork for something fierce. He’s building a fire, each teasing kiss serving as the kindling, until finally he unleashes a groan, drives the kiss deeper, and the fire engulfs us. His mouth is hot and hungry, but he doesn’t try to lick my face off or swallow me whole. It’s a controlled kiss, firm but greedy, thick with passion and the perfect amount of tongue.

I moan. I can’t help it. He chuckles against my lips before pulling back. “You’re a good kisser,” he rasps.

“Not so bad yourself.” And then we’re devouring each other’s mouths again, making out hardcore in this booth, and I don’t even flinch when I register the sound of catcalls over the music. Let everyone around us watch. Give them popcorn for all I care.

That girl in the bathroom last week, the one who praised Jake’s tongue, was right on the money. His tongue is incredible. Feels like heaven in my mouth. And his big, warm hand is now squeezing my thigh. I want to climb into his lap and maul him, but we’re at a bar, and we’re fully clothed. The fact that we’re in public is the only thing saving me from making a really stupid decision.

I pull away, breathing heavily. Jake’s gorgeous eyes peer back at me. A deep, dark green, like the jungle after a heavy rainfall. I can see why women go a little nutty for him.

I gulp down a hasty swig of cognac, then jerk when he takes the tumbler from my hand. Callused fingertips rub over my knuckles. I shiver.

“That was mine,” I accuse as he finishes my drink.

“We’ll order another round.”

“Probably not a good idea.” My voice sounds gravelly, so I clear my throat. Twice. “I should go.”

Jake nods. “Okay. Let me grab the check.”

I gesture to our empty glasses. “By the way, this counts as our date.”

He lets out a low, sexy laugh. “Dream on. This ain’t the date. This is still me being your fake boyfriend.”

“Oh really? Was that a fake make-out?”

“This isn’t the real date,” he says sternly. “But we should probably schedule that. When are you free?”

“Never.”

“How about tomorrow?”

Back-to-back nights? Is he nuts? I don’t even do that with the people I date for real. “Wow. You’re dying to see me again, huh?”

“Yes,” he admits, and my heart betrays me by skipping a beat. “So. Tomorrow?”

I cave like a house of cards. “Fine. But I’m not coming back to Boston. In one week I’ve spent enough time in this city to last me a lifetime.”

“I’ll pick somewhere closer to Hastings,” he assures me. “I’ll have Brooks’s car—should I come get you?”

“Absolutely not.” There’s no way I’m letting Jake show up on my father’s doorstep to pick me up for a date. “Unless you’re in the mood to get murdered.”

He chuckles knowingly. “I hoped you’d say no, but I’m a gentleman so I had to ask. I’ll pay your cab fare, though.”

“I don’t need your charity,” I mock.

“You just like being difficult, don’t ya?”

“Yup.” I rummage in my purse for my wallet.

“Want to make out some more before we go?” Jake’s tone is boyishly hopeful.