What? If that’s where his head was at, she was reading him completely wrong.
“He says you keep turning him down for a second date.”
“That would be because I’m not interested in a second date.”
“He’s a really stand-up guy. Makes good money, smart, great famil
y, and the girls seem to like him.”
“Which means he won’t have trouble finding female company.”
“Why won’t that be your company?”
She angled toward him, annoyed as hell that he was trying to pawn her off on another guy. “What the hell do you care?”
His gaze lowered to her mouth. “Just can’t figure you out.”
What a joke. “You’re not trying.”
He looked away, focusing on the pie. “Are you really gonna eat that all by yourself? Thought I was your official taste-tester.”
This was ridiculous. She was sick of wandering around on eggshells. She just needed to get this over with. Make the move he wouldn’t and get rejected; then she could let go of this attraction and focus 100 percent on her business.
“You know, you’re right.” She rolled to her knees and scooped up another forkful of pie. “I should really get your take on it, shouldn’t I?”
Before he could answer, she slid the pie into her mouth, swung one leg across his lap, took his face in both hands, and kissed him.
He made a sound of surprise and grabbed her wrists. Before he could push her away, Avery added pressure. When he still didn’t open, she brushed her tongue across his lips with a little mewl of frustration.
That did it. With an answering growl, his fingers tightened on her arms, he tilted his head, and he opened to her.
Avery’s breath caught as his tongue stroked in, sharing the sweet, soft cream. He moaned, long and low. The sound rumbled through her mouth, and fire erupted low in her body.
In an instant, she lost track of everything but Trace’s mouth. Trace’s lips. Trace’s tongue. She hadn’t been kissed in so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like. Forgotten the heat of a man’s mouth. But even if she’d remembered, she wouldn’t have recognized this kind of kiss. A desperate, unrestrained, uninhibited, expressive kiss that sparked every single cell in her body back to life.
Wild.
She’d known Trace would kiss like this—absolutely wild.
She slid her hands through his hair, let her arms fall over his shoulders, and sank into him with a moan purring in her throat.
The pie was long gone, but Trace kept kissing her, and she kept letting him. His arms doubled around her and pulled her up against his body. His strength took her breath. The passionate way he kissed her and kissed her and kissed her washed away every thought. One hand cupped the back of her neck in a firm, controlling hold that made her feel safe and so completely desired. His other arm moved low and curved around her hips, positioning her sex in direct and perfect contact with his erection.
His erection.
The reality shouldn’t have been so shocking, but after living in such a screwed-up marriage for so long, Avery had begun to believe she was incapable of exciting a man. And she’d sure as hell never known the thrill of a man guiding her hips into a rich, slow grind that rocketed her straight into intense pleasure.
She was downright euphoric when she turned her head to break the kiss and draw air, whispering, “Oh my God.”
Trace froze. His hips stopped their erotic rock; his lips rested listlessly against her temple. And a whole different kind of tension filled him.
“Fuck.” His curse was barely a whisper, but it filled Avery with a frantic type of dread.
She closed her eyes and twisted her hands in his T-shirt. “Don’t you dare.”
“Avery—”
“I swear to God, Trace, if you pull back . . .” The mere thought ground her already-shattered heart into dust. She didn’t have an ultimatum handy, but she knew everything between them would change. It had to. She couldn’t keep living every day wanting someone so badly only to know she couldn’t have him. She’d wasted enough of life that way.