“Connie has some funny ideas.” I smile, trying to lighten the mood between us.
“Oh yeah. And what were they?”
“She wants to hook you all up with her friend Sandy. I think she thinks you need the love of a good woman.”
“I don’t know any woman who’d be able to put up with us.” Even as he says the words, his eyes trail over me. I wish I could know what he’s thinking. If I could lift that hat of his and read his mind, I wouldn’t have to feel so uncertain about everything.
“You’re not so bad.”
Bringing his chin down in a subtle nod, I can tell that my terrible compliment is appreciated.
“So, Sandy, eh?” Cash raises his eyebrows, drawing them together, wrinkling his forehead in the cutest way.
“You’re getting ideas already?” I chuckle.
“Oh, I have ideas all the time. Don’t you?”
Our eyes meet, my summers-day blue to his yellow-gray, and my heart skips a beat. I could tell him how my hands itch to touch his broad chest and find out if he’s smooth there or has a soft patch of hair that would tickle my cheek. I could tell him that my lips are sensitized to the point of insanity waiting for the press of his, or that I’ve imagined the slide of his tongue into my mouth more times than would be decent between a husband and a wife.
Oh God.
I moisten my lips without realizing what it will tell him. Body language is so innate, so hard to conceal.
“Have you ever been kissed, Melanie?” he murmurs, eyes fixed on my parted mouth.
I shake my head as my words die on my tongue. Maybe he’ll laugh at my inexperience. I mean, what kind of girl gets to my age without ever having a boyfriend? I bet Amber’s had her fair share of male admirers. I bet she wouldn’t be trembling being so close to Cash.
But he doesn’t laugh. His breath hitches as though I just told him something that overwhelmed his senses. His hand finds mine and raises it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to my skin. Beneath my baggy shirt, my heart thuds slow and hard.
Those eyes that swim with longing fix on mine, and I realize that this kiss is a test. If I snatch my hand away, he’ll know I don’t want him. If I do nothing but stand like a swooning, trembling mess, it’ll be obvious that he can take it further. Cash knows the art of seduction, or maybe he’s just excellent and dealing with skittish mares.
I don’t tug my hand away. Instead, I close my eyes, holding onto the slide of warmth that spills through me.
When his lips touch mine, it’s like the first taste of ice cream on a hot summer’s day. He has to lean down a long way, and his hand presses against my lower back, keeping us both steady. Soft, slow kisses send shivers up my spine and across my scalp, and I lose myself in all of the unfamiliar sensations.
How can a man as hard and strong as Cash touch with such gentleness? How can such a simple thing as his lips on mine send my heart fluttering? I don’t know what to do, but he leads, and I follow, my mouth parting as he draws my bottom lips between his and sucks gently. Oh…that should be illegal, it feels so good. My hands find their way onto his body, the left resting against his solid bicep, the right against the undulation of muscle that is his chest, and I actually moan.
He’s going to laugh, I think. But he doesn’t. My moan seems to spur him on, his tongue dipping between my lips as explicitly as anything I’ve ever imagined when I’m alone in my bed in the dark. My fingertips press into his flesh, gripping to steady against the swoon the overtakes me, and when his hands slide over my ass, squeezing beneath so I’m pressed against him, I feel it.
There against my stomach is the ridge of something long and hard.
My cheeks heat, knowing his cock is so close and that he’s so aroused.
I don’t have any pretty clothes. My hair is a tangled mess that needed cutting a year ago. There’s not a hint of make-up on my skin, and yet, this gorgeous man wants me.
“Melanie.” He breathes my name into my neck like he’s pleading with me for something.
Instinctively, my hand slides into the hair at his nape, and he moans, long and deep.
“You taste like honey,” he says, kissing my cheeks, first one then the other.
I snort at his fancy words, and Cash smiles broadly. “Not one for flirting?”
Should I be embarrassed that I don’t know how? Or maybe that I don’t want to know how. Pretty words don’t mean anything without true emotions. There are no true emotions between us, other than lust.