It was quiet, and the lights of Welsdale twinkled outside.
Slowly, though, as she regained steadiness, comfort gave way to something else. She became aware of subtle changes. Jordan’s breathing deepened, and hers grew shallower and more rapid.
He shifted, dipping his head, and his lips grazed her temple.
She lifted her head and met his gaze. “So these are the famous Jordan Serenghetti moves these days? A hug?”
Their faces were inches apart, and she remained pressed against him—his long, lean form imprinting her, making her feel.
“How am I doing?”
She lifted her shoulders. “Do you usually look for a rating?”
“You still have a smart mouth, Perini,” he muttered.
“Weaponized? And you’re going to disarm me, I bet,” she replied tartly.
He bent toward her and muttered, “Worth risking serious injury for.”
“I dare you.” She tossed out the words carelessly, but she was all taut awareness because she’d never seen Jordan this focused and intent.
“You know that kiss...”
Her brows drew together. “What about it?”
“Since I don’t remember it, I’m curious.”
She sucked in a breath and then warned, “Since there’s no audience to cheer you on this time, why bother?”
He pressed the pad of his thumb against her bottom lip. “Such a loaded question. Let’s find out.”
And just like that, he kissed her.
She tried for nonchalance. Still, his mouth was lazy and sensual, coaxing hers into a slow dance.
Eventually, the kiss took on a life of its own. In fact, Sera wasn’t sure what possessed her. The need to tangle with a player again—and this time be the one who came out ahead? Perhaps a desire to prove that she was older and wiser and not so green—and therefore wouldn’t be hurt? She couldn’t say—and maybe didn’t want to examine the issue too closely.
Jordan cupped the sides of her face, his fingers tunneling into her hair, and held her steady. His mouth was warm, searching...confident.
He swept his tongue around hers, and she met him, every part of her responding. She gripped his shirt, pulling him in, and he made a low sound in his throat.
She’d wondered over the years whether her memory of their kiss had been dulled by time. Had it really been that good? Not that she’d been looking for a repeat lately, she told herself. It had just been idle curiosity sparked by seeing Jordan again. And since he’d been so annoying and able to bring out her snarky best, she’d assumed her recollection was off.
Wrong, so wrong.
Every part of her came to life, sensitized to his touch, his scent, his taste. And there was no lazy humor to Jordan now. Instead, everything about him said he wanted to strip off her waitress clothes so they could both find bliss...
When the kiss broke off, he trailed his lips across her jaw, and she tilted her head so that he could continue the path down the side of her neck. His hand came up to cup her breast, and she strained against him, wanting more, a sound of pleasure escaping her lips.
He brought his mouth to hers again, and his leg wedged between her thighs. She skimmed her hands along his back, feeling the ripped muscles move under her caress.
Jordan’s scent enveloped her—the one she’d started to know so well and had fought against. But his casual devil-may-care persona was stripped away, and all he seemed to care about was getting closer to her, exploring the attraction that she’d often dismissed as just smooth moves on his part.
He tugged her T-shirt from the waistband of her skirt as their kiss took on a new urgency. Pushing aside her bra, he found her breast with his hand and palmed it tenderly.
She moved against him, feeling the friction of his jeans straining to hold back his arousal, and he broke off the kiss on a curse.
Lifting her shirt, he looked down as he stroked her breast, his chest rising and falling with awareness.