Rachel Gibson - Crazy On You

“I’ll get those,” he said.

She glanced across her shoulder at him as he stopped next to her in his brown jacket and tragic pants. Then she put her chin to her shoulder and glanced behind her. Tucker playing basketball in her driveway with Pippen was one thing-but carrying her groceries inside was another. She was a single mom in a small town that would never completely forget her wild past. None of the neighbors seemed to be home. “You can get the others,” she said and hurried to the back door. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He grabbed the remaining four bags and shut the back of the Jeep.

“Pip says you’re going to teach him to dunk.” She pushed a big button by the back step and the garage door slid closed.

“I’ll try.” He followed her into the kitchen and set the bags on the counter next to her. “He needs to work on his dribbling first.”

Lily unbuttoned her navy pea coat and hung it on a hook by the door. That morning she’d dressed in her pink yoga pants, white sports bra, and Spandex tank. Later, she planned to drag out her mat, pop in her Rodney Yee DVD, and do a little downward facing dog in her living room. She looked back at Tucker’s profile. At his chin and mouth and wide shoulders. Besides her brother-in-law and nephew, Pippen was the only male who’d ever been in her house. It felt weird to have Tucker there. “Thanks again.”

“Thank me with coffee.” He turned to face her and reached for the zipper of his dark brown jacket. His long fingers pulled the tab downward. One slow inch at a time as his eyes took a languid journey down her body, blatantly checking her out.

She should say something clever and witty or indignant, but as always with him, she couldn’t think. Clearly his testosterone was throwing off the balance in the house. Throwing her off the balance. “Won’t the caffeine keep you up?”

He raised his gaze to her face, pausing for a heartbeat on her lips before he looked into her eyes. “I have today and tomorrow off.”

Lord love a duck, his energy caused friction in her stomach. Fiery dangerous friction that she hadn’t let herself feel for a long time. She moved to the coffee maker and filled the filter with Italian roast. With Tucker, it wasn’t a matter of letting . It was more like a bombardment. “I’m off today too. And I have a million things to do before Saturday’s spa event.” It wasn’t necessarily a hint for him to leave. Not yet. In a few more minutes, she’d kick him out. There’d been a time in her life when she liked playing with fire, but she was a respectable mother of a ten-year-old boy. It wasn’t just her anymore.

“You work at a spa?”

One cup and she’d kick him out. Lily glanced over her shoulder at him as he walked to the little kitchen table and hung his coat on the back of a chair. Like two thin arrows, twin creases ran down his back from his shoulders to his waistband, pointing to his nice round butt in those horrible pants.

“I own a spa in Amarillo.” She returned her attention to the coffee maker and filled the carafe with water, then poured it into the machine. Not just any guy could make those pants look good. She hit the On button then turned to face him. “Lily Belle Salon and Spa.” He picked up an extra teal-and-white invitation from a small stack sitting on the table. “I’m having a big event Saturday. You should come by and win a facial,” she joked.

“I don’t even really know what that is.” He set the invitation back on the table. “Belle is your middle name?”

“Yeah. My mom named my sister and me after flowers.”

“It’s pretty.”

Behind her, the coffeepot spit to life, filling the air with coffee-scented steam. In front of her, Tucker moved across the kitchen. Matching shirt creases ran from the dark brown epaulets on his broad shoulders, slipped beneath his gold star, name bar, and breast pockets. Her gaze followed the thin lines down to his flat belly and further. “Where’s your”-she pointed at her waist and then his-“cop stuff?”

“My duty belt?”

“Yeah.” She looked back up into his brown eyes. “Your weapons and cuffs?”

“Secured in my truck.” His gaze locked with hers and he didn’t even bother to hide the interest in his eyes. It was hot and intense, flaming the friction in the pit of her stomach and scattering it across her body. “How long have you had your own spa?”

“Three years.” She moved to her left and turned away from his gaze. Away from the chaos it caused, and she opened the cupboard. A collection of random mugs sat inside and she grabbed two. “Do you want cream or sugar?” One cup. Just one cup. She turned and almost hit him in the chest with the pink sparkly Deeann’s Duds mug.

“Both.” He took the mugs from her and set them on the counter by her hip. “But not in my coffee.” He took her hands in his and slid her palms up his chest. “Touch me,” he said, his voice a bold rumble beneath her hand.

She raised her gaze from their hands on his breast pockets to his eyes. Suddenly, she couldn’t swallow or breathe. He was dangerous and she pulled her hands from beneath his. Cool air hit her heated palms and she closed her fingers into fists.

“Please, Lily.” The silent longing in his voice whispered to the dormant longing in her soul. He lowered his face and her breath rushed out.

“What are you doing?” she murmured as his warm mouth skimmed her jaw. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Then don’t think.” His warm breath spread across her skin. “I know I have a hard time thinking when I’m near you.” He kissed her just beneath her ear.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“You don’t know me.”

“Let’s change that.” He opened his mouth on her sensitive skin. “Around you, I have a hard time doing anything but getting hard.”

“Too soon. That’s crude.” Her head fell to one side.

“That’s the truth. Do you want me to lie?”

Too fast. No. She sometimes liked crude but she knew she shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t let him kiss her throat. She should make him stop, but she couldn’t.

“Put your hands on me,” he said against her throat and she opened her fingers and slid her hands up to his chest and shoulders. At the touch of her palms on his bare neck, a shudder ran up his spine. “That’s good.” His mouth slid across her cheek to her lips.

Was this happening? Was she going to let this happen? Right there in her kitchen? Where she cooked breakfast for her son. One of his hands moved to the nape of her neck and tilted her head back with his strong fingers, coaxing her mouth with the promise of a kiss. A warm shiver ran up her spine and he lifted his head. His lips teased her, and she raised onto the balls of her feet and followed his mouth. Evidently she was going to let it happen. Right there in her kitchen where she cooked Eggos and Toaster Sticks.

Beneath the slight pressure of his lips, her mouth opened beneath his and his tongue swept inside. Hot and liquid and unraveling a ribbon of fire from her throat, down her chest to the waiting friction in the pit of her stomach.

He fit his free hand into the curve of her waist and pulled her into him. Her breasts brushed his chest and the kiss deepened. His tongue touched hers while his mouth created a warm suction that felt ripe and so delicious-the ribbon of fire in her stomach engulfed her thighs and tightened her nipples against the front of his shirt.

A deep groan vibrated his chest against her breasts. His grasp on her waist tightened, relaxed, flexed, then slid to her behind. Pleasure flushed her skin and she opened her mouth wider, kissing him deeper. She ran her hands over his shoulders and chest and neck. He untangled his fingers from her hair and slid his palm down the side of her throat and across her shoulder. While his tongue plunged into her mouth, his hand moved to her ribs. He fanned his thumb across Spandex and the side of her breast. Back and forth, driving her mad with the want of his touch. Her breasts tightened while other places in her body turned liquid with need. She melted into him even more. Against her pelvis she felt the stiff ridge of his erection and she rocked against him, loving the feel of it. The size and weight and hard length.