That admission was all it took to rekindle his smile. “Look, I’m not proposing. I’m not even asking you to move in. But before I do all the things I want to do to you, I need to know I’m more than a way to pass the time until you leave.” His fingers skimmed down her throat, over her collar bones—and just like that, she discovered her new favorite erogenous zone.
“What do you say, Gemma? You ready to take a leap of faith?” He pressed a kiss to her temple and murmured, “Because when you’re ready, I’ll love you with my hands, my tongue, my cock. I’ll fuck you so good you won’t ever want to leave me.”
Dizzy and trembling, she clutched his shirt to keep from tumbling to the floor.
He nibbled her earlobe, his breath hot against her skin. “You’re not there yet, Gemma. And I won’t give you what we both want until you let your guard down.” His hand slid down to squeeze her hip. “What do you say? Are you ready to be real with me?”
Her hammering heartbeat echoed at the juncture of her thighs. Hard to speak, much less think, with this storm of emotion blowing through her. Aroused, frustrated, and confused, she glided her hands over his firm chest. “Why does this have to be a big thing, Jesse? Can’t we just be friends who fool around?”
He speared her with a burning gaze. “I’m not built that way. You’ve stirred up something powerful in me. I won’t be satisfied with just a taste.”
The tip of his tongue traced a slow path across his full, bitable lower lip, and her resistance crumbled. “Okay. You win.”
“No, my fairy queen.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “If I get what I want, we both win. See you tonight. My place.”
“Should I bring the wine again?”
Fire flickered in his wicked smile. “Just bring your lovely self.” He ambled toward the door and called over his shoulder, “And a toothbrush.”
Gemma grabbed a display stand to keep from swooning.
Chapter Eight
Jessecheckedhisrecipefor the twentieth time, even though Grandma’s lasagna was a dish he could make with his eyes closed. Tomato sauce perfumed with home-grown basil, marjoram, and oregano, sausage made with fennel, fresh-ground white pepper and nutmeg in the bechamel sauce. He’d improvised a pesto from garlic and herbs to spread on crusty peasant bread. Hopefully, this many carbs wouldn’t make them too sleepy for—well, time would tell if tonight was the right moment to fulfill the dreams he’d nurtured ever since the night of Zora’s accident. Though he craved Gemma with every cell of his body, their first time together was too special to be rushed.
She’d be here any minute. He removed his sauce-splashed apron and made a slow turn to check all the details. Candles set in jars and vases around the kitchen and living room. Fresh flowers bundled with fragrant herbs from his greenhouse: apple mint, rosemary, and lavender-hued roses, a symbol of love at first sight. He’d looked it up. Hopefully, Gemma would get the reference, because telling her flat out how over the moon he felt was terrifying.
He lowered the volume on his smoky blues playlist. As he stepped to the window, a saxophone moaned.
“You and me both, man,” he muttered. No picturesque firepit tonight—way too blustery and wet outside. Everything hinged on creating the right atmosphere in his simple farmhouse—sensual, comfortable, the kind of place that makes a woman want to take off her clothes and stay for more. Lots more.
The doorbell finally rang. He sucked in a deep breath, whispered a prayer, and opened it.
A gust of rainy wind lifted Gemma’s hair like wings and propelled her into his arms.
“Holy cats.” Laughing, she stepped back to remove her sopping raincoat. “Sorry. Got you all wet.”
Not as wet as I’m gonna make you by the end of tonight.
Biting his lip, he hung her coat and scarf by the door, then fetched towels to blot her dripping hair. She toed off her rain boots, revealing colorful, hand-knit socks, the kind you wear at home for a cozy night in. The sight twisted his heart.
Down, boy. Dinner first. Don’t want her to feel rushed or used.Although judging by her reaction when he kissed her in the shop, she was as hungry for him as he was for her.
Fortunately, Shauna had left behind an old blow dryer. By the time Gemma emerged from the bathroom, her hair fell in thick, dry waves over her shoulders, and damn if she wasn’t the most delectable woman he’d ever beheld, dressed for relaxation with just a touch of seduction. Her soft, fuzzy sweater hugged her curves and drew his eye to the shadow of cleavage visible at the neckline. Velvet leggings outlined her shapely thighs and calves.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. Safe territory. No mauling until after dinner.
“You look beautiful, Gemma.” He skimmed his palm down the curve of her side. “You’re very fit, aren’t you?”
Her cheeks flushed rose pink. “I do a lot of yoga. Helps me chill out.”
An image flashed in his mind’s eye—Gemma in a down dog position, her ass in the air. His cock pressed hard against his zipper.
He tugged his shirt away from his neck and beckoned her into the kitchen. “Hope you don’t mind another simple meal.”
She inhaled deeply. “Smells divine.”
Grinning, he filled her plate. “Probably not as sophisticated as what you’re used to.”
