“No worries.” I flash him a grin, even as I bring her closer to me because she fits fucking perfectly there. She fits against me like she belongs.
We leave, and when we reach the street, I let go of her. She swivels to face me, a challenge written across her eyes. “And what if I wanted him to kiss me?”
“Did you? Did you want to kiss Marcus?”
She parks her hands on her hips. “Well, if I did, you just ruined it.”
“I thought you weren’t interested in dating. That was what you said on Sunday.”
“And I meant it. I wasn’t trying to date Marcus, for God’s sake. I was not picking him up. We were talking about work.”
“You two were pretty damn chatty.”
“It was business. I was learning from him. Stop being such a jealous ass.”
“Ass? Now I’m an ass?”
“You are kind of acting like one.”
“Well, pardon me, then. I’ll just leave so you can return to Marcus the soapbox bartender, who looks like he sprang from Central Casting for Movie Stars.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”
I wave a hand in his direction. “Oh, come on now.”
“I didn’t even notice.”
“You didn’t notice he looks like . . . like . . .” Well, I’m not going to point it out to her.
“I told you. I was only interested in talking to him about beer. I was only interested in learning more about the business. This is business for me.” She stabs at her chest with one finger. “Hello? Workaholic here. Just like you.”
I huff sullenly and mutter an apology. “Sorry.” Then, because that’s not how apologies work and I should know better, I man up and meet her gaze. “I’m sorry I acted like a jealous ass. But I still don’t think Marcus is your type.”
She raises her chin. “How do you know?”
Adrenaline courses through me. It’s this argument, Marcus, the whole damned night. I step closer, lift a hand, and run my thumb over her jawline. “Because you are the kind of woman who needs a particular kind of kiss, and he’s not the man who can give it to you.”
“What type of kiss do I need?” she asks, and it comes out breathy. I want to hear that sound again. I want to be the reason she makes it.
I move closer, and she doesn’t back away. I need to get other men out of her head. I need to erase them, so I say, “Hot, hard, deep, and completely consuming.”
She swallows, her voice a little wobbly but still fierce. “How do you know that’s what I need?”
“Because when I kissed you that night, you melted. You turned boneless. You said no one had ever kissed you that way before.”
Her words are some kind of invitation. “Maybe I like it soft and slow now.”
“Do you?”
“Perhaps.” It lasts for five syllables, and with the vibration of each one, I move closer. I run a hand down her arm. Goosebumps trail in my wake, and she doesn’t pull away.
“Perhaps you do,” I repeat. She’s inches from me. Her eyes lock with mine and heat flashes across hers. “Only one way to find out.”
I slide a hand into her hair, then brush my lips over hers, barely kissing her, hardly touching. It’s enough to drive me wild, to make me want more. To make me want her again, want her more than I already do. This woman taunts me, tempts me.
And I want her to feel tempted too.
Her soft lips seal against mine, and even though I’ve kissed her hard and hot and heavy, even though I’ve kissed her like I’m going to fuck her, tonight isn’t for devouring.
I give her exactly what she asked for—soft and slow.
How much I enjoy it takes me by surprise. It’s like we’re discovering a new way to kiss. I bring her closer. She parts her lips, and the second she does, my mind goes haywire, wild with images of what might come next. Here on the streets of Tribeca, I can barely contain the desire that rockets through me.
Especially when she slinks her hands around my waist, dipping them into the back pockets of my jeans. Grabbing my ass. Driving me crazy as I yank her closer for a final hot, searing kiss.
When we break apart, my mind has traveled to another country. My logic and reason have packed up and left too, no forwarding address.
She drags her fingertips down the front of my shirt. “What do you know? Turns out soft and slow is nice too.”
I run a hand through my hair, trying to reconnect thoughts to reality. “Yeah, works for me as well.”
She drops her forehead to my chest, and damn, that feels nice. But when she lifts her face, it’s like she’s reset herself, cleared her thoughts. “But that was simply a test. You know that, right?”
I need to reset too, so I nod automatically. “Sure. Just testing a theory. Won’t happen again.”
“It can’t happen again.” She takes a deep breath. “Also, there’s something I’ve been meaning to refresh your memory about.” She moves closer once more, so there’s barely any space between us. “I don’t know where this idea of three times comes from. Maybe you ought to have your brain checked.”
“What are you talking about?”
