Love After All
Page 8
“Not yet. And that’s the problem. But I know what I want, and I’ll know who he is when I do.”
“Really.” He sat on the edge of the sofa. “Show me your list.”
“I don’t think so.” She wrapped her arm tighter around her bag, as if he were going to wrench it away from her. Obviously, whatever was on Chelsea’s list was important to her. That made him eager to see it.
“No, really. Maybe I can help. Show me your list.”
She hesitated, but finally dug into her purse and pulled out her notebook, flipping the pages, then gave him a hard stare. “You cannot laugh.”
“I promise I won’t laugh.”
She thrust the notebook at him.
He scanned the list, the corners of his mouth ticking up.
“Bash.”
He held up his hand. “I’m not laughing. But yeah, I can see why I’m not the man for you.” He handed the notebook back to her and met her gaze. “I’m divorced, I work at night, I love sports, and you’ve already met one of my crazy ex-girlfriends. Though she’s not my fault. She was normal when I met her.”
Chelsea arched a brow.
“Hey, I don’t set out to date crazy women. I like them unemotional and uncomplicated.”
That won him an even harder stare.
“Maybe I’m not making myself clear enough.”
“Obviously not.”
He figured the best way out of that one was to leave the crazy-ex-girlfriend topic alone. “As far as the rest of your list, I’m a beer-and-burgers kind of guy. I spend all my time at a bar, I’m definitely not a suit guy, and my perfect weekend getaway is camping. And while I like kids, I’m not ready to have any yet. Plus, I apparently just adopted one of those yippy little dogs.”
She crossed her arms and nodded. “Exactly my point. We have nothing in common. Nothing at all.”
He stood and approached her. “You’re right. Nothing in common.”
They were standing only inches apart, and damn, she smelled good. Like a cinnamon roll and fiery brandy or something. Hot and spicy—and he suddenly wanted a taste of her. If he was being honest with himself, and he always tried to be, he’d wanted a taste of Chelsea for a long time now.
She tugged on her lower lip with her teeth, and he felt the tight pull in his groin, the fierce rush of desire that had nothing to do with a list and everything to do with basic chemistry.
“So … I should go,” she said, her eyes a crazy mix of blue and green and fixated on his.
Bash moved forward, but Chelsea didn’t step back. And when he picked up her hand and entwined his fingers with hers, that tiny little voice inside her head said, Run like hell. Only she didn’t run like hell.
“You know, Chelsea, sometimes you just have to go with your gut. And sometimes what’s between a man and woman has nothing to do with a list, or what’s in your head.” He picked up her hand and laid it on his chest. “It’s what’s right here. It’s that feeling of chemistry, that sensation of ‘Wow, if I don’t kiss this person right now, I Might. Just. Explode.’”
Chelsea was certain she’d forgotten how to breathe. Her palm against Bash’s chest was damp, as were other, more vital, throbbing parts of her.
She was out of her mind for even entertaining the idea of kissing him, but here she was, moving in closer to the temptation. Clearly she was having an out-of-body experience. Her normally logical self had fled, and had left in its wake this needy, lustful being whose only thought was naked desire.
Maybe it was the way Bash looked at her. Could she ever recall a man devouring her with his eyes like this before? Not in recent memory. Or the way he held her hand—so light and easy. But his thumb swept across her skin, sending skittering zings of sensation through every part of her—all the good parts that stood up and took notice.
Sure, it had been a long time since she’d had sex—way too long, because after all, she was really picky. But it wasn’t like she didn’t know how to take care of those kinds of needs on her own.
Still, that wasn’t at all the same as having a man touch you and take care of those needs for you.
Merely imagining all the ways Bash could take care of her needs had her going up in flames. She had a habit of watching him whenever she stopped in at the bar. He had great hands, always so sure and confident. What would those hands feel like gliding across her body?
Suddenly, that low throb turned into a constant thrum that beat incessantly throughout her. And that lustful being grew more demanding.
So when he lifted his hand to her jaw, then slid his palm around the nape of her neck and aligned that rock-hard body of his against hers, any thoughts of running like hell were gone, baby, gone.
“So what do you think, Chelsea?” he asked. “I’m not list material, but let’s just try this out and see how it goes, okay?”
She only had a split second to give him a short nod before his lips descended on hers.
It was magic. An explosion that threatened to make her implode from the inside out. She grasped hold of Bash’s shirt with both hands and held on for dear life as his mouth moved over hers. She vaguely registered her breaths going shallow, the hard pump of her heartbeat, and the trembling in her legs, but those were minor things, because honest to God, she was drowning in the sensation of a hard-bodied man doing delicious things to her mouth.
She hadn’t had much luck in the dating department lately, and she couldn’t even remember the last decent kiss she’d gotten.
“Really.” He sat on the edge of the sofa. “Show me your list.”
“I don’t think so.” She wrapped her arm tighter around her bag, as if he were going to wrench it away from her. Obviously, whatever was on Chelsea’s list was important to her. That made him eager to see it.
“No, really. Maybe I can help. Show me your list.”
She hesitated, but finally dug into her purse and pulled out her notebook, flipping the pages, then gave him a hard stare. “You cannot laugh.”
“I promise I won’t laugh.”
She thrust the notebook at him.
He scanned the list, the corners of his mouth ticking up.
“Bash.”
He held up his hand. “I’m not laughing. But yeah, I can see why I’m not the man for you.” He handed the notebook back to her and met her gaze. “I’m divorced, I work at night, I love sports, and you’ve already met one of my crazy ex-girlfriends. Though she’s not my fault. She was normal when I met her.”
Chelsea arched a brow.
“Hey, I don’t set out to date crazy women. I like them unemotional and uncomplicated.”
That won him an even harder stare.
“Maybe I’m not making myself clear enough.”
“Obviously not.”
He figured the best way out of that one was to leave the crazy-ex-girlfriend topic alone. “As far as the rest of your list, I’m a beer-and-burgers kind of guy. I spend all my time at a bar, I’m definitely not a suit guy, and my perfect weekend getaway is camping. And while I like kids, I’m not ready to have any yet. Plus, I apparently just adopted one of those yippy little dogs.”
She crossed her arms and nodded. “Exactly my point. We have nothing in common. Nothing at all.”
He stood and approached her. “You’re right. Nothing in common.”
They were standing only inches apart, and damn, she smelled good. Like a cinnamon roll and fiery brandy or something. Hot and spicy—and he suddenly wanted a taste of her. If he was being honest with himself, and he always tried to be, he’d wanted a taste of Chelsea for a long time now.
She tugged on her lower lip with her teeth, and he felt the tight pull in his groin, the fierce rush of desire that had nothing to do with a list and everything to do with basic chemistry.
“So … I should go,” she said, her eyes a crazy mix of blue and green and fixated on his.
Bash moved forward, but Chelsea didn’t step back. And when he picked up her hand and entwined his fingers with hers, that tiny little voice inside her head said, Run like hell. Only she didn’t run like hell.
“You know, Chelsea, sometimes you just have to go with your gut. And sometimes what’s between a man and woman has nothing to do with a list, or what’s in your head.” He picked up her hand and laid it on his chest. “It’s what’s right here. It’s that feeling of chemistry, that sensation of ‘Wow, if I don’t kiss this person right now, I Might. Just. Explode.’”
Chelsea was certain she’d forgotten how to breathe. Her palm against Bash’s chest was damp, as were other, more vital, throbbing parts of her.
She was out of her mind for even entertaining the idea of kissing him, but here she was, moving in closer to the temptation. Clearly she was having an out-of-body experience. Her normally logical self had fled, and had left in its wake this needy, lustful being whose only thought was naked desire.
Maybe it was the way Bash looked at her. Could she ever recall a man devouring her with his eyes like this before? Not in recent memory. Or the way he held her hand—so light and easy. But his thumb swept across her skin, sending skittering zings of sensation through every part of her—all the good parts that stood up and took notice.
Sure, it had been a long time since she’d had sex—way too long, because after all, she was really picky. But it wasn’t like she didn’t know how to take care of those kinds of needs on her own.
Still, that wasn’t at all the same as having a man touch you and take care of those needs for you.
Merely imagining all the ways Bash could take care of her needs had her going up in flames. She had a habit of watching him whenever she stopped in at the bar. He had great hands, always so sure and confident. What would those hands feel like gliding across her body?
Suddenly, that low throb turned into a constant thrum that beat incessantly throughout her. And that lustful being grew more demanding.
So when he lifted his hand to her jaw, then slid his palm around the nape of her neck and aligned that rock-hard body of his against hers, any thoughts of running like hell were gone, baby, gone.
“So what do you think, Chelsea?” he asked. “I’m not list material, but let’s just try this out and see how it goes, okay?”
She only had a split second to give him a short nod before his lips descended on hers.
It was magic. An explosion that threatened to make her implode from the inside out. She grasped hold of Bash’s shirt with both hands and held on for dear life as his mouth moved over hers. She vaguely registered her breaths going shallow, the hard pump of her heartbeat, and the trembling in her legs, but those were minor things, because honest to God, she was drowning in the sensation of a hard-bodied man doing delicious things to her mouth.
She hadn’t had much luck in the dating department lately, and she couldn’t even remember the last decent kiss she’d gotten.
