Josh turned away, maneuvering Hannah with him. Ava began to follow them but Ethan snagged her by the wrist and said, “You’re coming with me.” He began pulling her away and threw out to Josh, “We’ll meet y’all there.”
Josh pulled Hannah around to the driver’s side and opened the door of the truck. She stood still a moment, as if lost, and he finally took pity on her confusion and said, “Up you go.”
When Hannah crawled up into Josh’s truck, she tried to lever herself across the bench seat to the passenger side, but his hand clamped around her wrist and stopped her when she was only halfway there, on the middle of the seat. “That’s far enough.”
As Josh began strapping the seatbelt across Hannah’s lap, she tried to breathe evenly and untangle her brain, which seemed to be completely scattered. She’d never been on a ‘date’ before, because her parents were from the Stone Age, dinosaur-inhabited world where girls couldn’t date until they were sixteen. And like it or not, Hannah had had to comply with their dictates. So when Josh hadn’t helped her up into the passenger side of the truck, she’d been a little confused. And now, here she sat, next to him, in the middle of the truck, wondering if this was the norm. Not that they were on a date, of course, because they weren’t. But it was the closest she’d ever been.
They’d already had their arms wrapped around each other tonight, and a tiny, insidious little voice inside her head was hoping and praying and figuring that they would probably kiss again before the night was over. The night they were, evidently, going to spend together in the same house without any adult supervision. Hell yeah! She was so keyed up she could barely sit still without fidgeting and trembling. As Josh drove over to the Andersons with the gleam of Ethan’s headlights behind them, she said nothing because he was silent and she didn’t want to say anything that might make her look young or foolish in his eyes.
Josh parked the truck in the street and then jumped down and held his hand out to her. As they waited on the front porch for Ethan and Ava, who were pulling into the driveway, Josh took out his phone and Hannah surreptitiously listened in on his side of the very short conversation. “Aunt Di, I won’t be home tonight.” A pause. “Staying at the Andersons’ house with Ty and Ethan.” Another pause. “I will, me too. See you tomorrow.” Hannah was impressed, maybe even a bit intimidated, that Josh didn’t try to hide the conversation he was having with his aunt. He was so self-confident, his words firm and assured, she knew he couldn’t care less if not only she, but the whole world, knew he was checking in with the older woman.
As he shoved the phone back into his pocket, they stood to the side while Ava unlocked the front door. Ava and Ethan walked inside, and Hannah went in after them as Josh held the door for her. It was after one in the morning, and Josh called out dibs in a loud voice as he sank down onto the sofa in the living room. “I get the couch.”
Hannah stood in the middle of the living room as she heard the bathroom door slam behind Ava. Ethan trailed behind her friend, waiting for Ava to come out, standing in the hallway in the vicinity of the bedrooms. Hannah glanced over at Josh, who was leaning back casually on the center of the sofa with his legs spread wide as if he were the king of all he surveyed, while he stared at her intently. As she stood indecisively in the center of the room, Josh began patting the place beside him on the couch.
Chapter Four
Hannah’s heart began hammering in her chest at the expression on Josh’s face. Through a roaring in her ears, she heard Ava come out of the bathroom and then a bedroom door slamming. A rattle of a deep male voice began arguing with Ava, but Hannah couldn’t hear what they were saying through the thick walls. And at that moment, neither did she care what they were arguing about because all she could concentrate on was Josh and the predatory look on his face.
Josh continued to pat the place beside him, and Hannah found her courage and began walking over. Lightly, she sat down beside him, and when she did, he leaned over and began pulling his boots and socks off, as if he were settling in for the night.
The oxygen snarled in her lungs, but he stopped there, and made no move to undress further. His feet were large and male and sexy, and Hannah knew in that moment she was far, far out of her element. When she’d left her house tonight, never in a million years had she ever dreamed that the kind of things that had happened tonight could have possibly occurred. Not ever.
But here she was, in a house with no adults, at one in the morning, sitting beside Josh Turner. Virtually alone. For the whole night. Her heartbeat stalled before taking up far too rapid a beat as he reached down and pulled off her flat, silver sandals and tossed them on the floor beside his boots. Thanking God that her toes were freshly painted, she shifted in her seat as he lifted one foot and held it in his hands, turning on the couch to face her. “Tiny feet,” he all but whispered, low in his throat.
Her eyes were glued to her foot cupped between his hands, as he caressed up to her ankle. “Mmm-hmm.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes, it’s … um, hard to find shoes.”
“Um … is it?” he asked so softly that her eyes flew to his and found him staring intensely at her, his torso swiveled, completely facing her.
She licked her lips. “Are you making fun of me?” she asked quietly, not knowing whether to be hurt or not.
One of his large, tanned hands left her ankle and glided up to her cheek, where he cupped it in his fingers. His eyes gleamed down into hers with an intensity that sent heat and longing shooting through her. “Do you think I’m making fun of you?” As he asked that question, in his deep, heated voice, his fingers ran over her cheek and slid into her hair, touching her ear. His eyes were swallowing hers, not letting her break contact.
Her heart slammed against her ribcage. “No,” she whispered.
His fingers tickled her ear, touching her slowly. “And you’re right. I’m not … not at all.” His words were slow and raspy, and Hannah felt his chest come toward hers another tantalizing inch. “So if I’m not making fun of you, what do you think I’m doing?” His voice was lethally low, almost feral, and Hannah was rendered almost completely helpless by the raw danger that sizzled from the leading question.
“I—I don’t know,” she mumbled, trying to even out her words through the sudden panting of the breaths she was taking.
He released her ankle completely and his eyes dropped to her breasts. Slowly, he lifted his hand to her shoulder, his every move a deliberate, purposeful caress. He ran his palm across to the center of her chest, above her breasts, and his fingers began intentionally toying with the top button of her shirt, flicking it with one finger, and then holding the button tightly in his grasp, lifting the shirt away from her skin and then letting the material drop down again. His stare slowly lifted from the button he was playing with but made no move to unfasten, and his eyes moved to her lips, and then finally up to tangle with hers. Electricity arced between them as their eyes clashed and held. His fi
ngers dropped the button, and his hand slid to the right side of her chest, still not touching her breast, but so close that Hannah’s lungs froze up in panicked anticipation. “Hannah … ” His voice trailed off but his eyes stayed hot on hers as his finger stroked her slowly, back and forth, moving down just enough that he touched the very top swell of her breast.
Her breath caught in her lungs. She waited for him to go on and when he didn’t, she couldn’t stand it anymore. “What?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
“That … kiss. That kiss …last weekend,” he said slowly.
“What … what about it?” she managed to ask.
“It was your first one?” The look in his eyes intensified, dilating them and making them an even deeper green.
Crazy emotions roiled through Hannah at his question. She almost felt something close to embarrassment or humiliation, but those feelings wouldn’t quite form all the way because of the glimmer she saw in Josh’s eyes, the fevered expression on his face that told her he wouldn’t be unhappy if his hypothesis proved to be correct. “Yes,” she answered him simply.
The fingers in her hair tightened in her scalp. “So, I had your first kiss?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Why is that?” His eyes dropped to her lips again and Hannah felt the searing impact as a warm, sweet ache began to build in her bloodstream.
“Why hadn’t I ever been kissed before?” she managed.
“Yes.”
“Because… because my parents won’t let me date until I turn sixteen, I guess.”
His gaze left her lips and focused with hot intent on hers again. “And that’s in how many weeks?” he asked.
Her pulse rate increased even more if that were at all possible. “Six weeks.”
“And has anybody asked you on a date yet?” His brows pulled together and his eyes narrowed as he continued to question her as if it were his every right.
“Like to go to the movies or something?” Hannah tried to clarify the question, because she was having a hard time concentrating with that single, masculine finger stroking the top of her breast.