Free Kiss Me by Kristine Mason Page A

gave her a quick onceover before meeting her eyes. “There’s no point in rushing things when you know it’ll only cause damage.”
    Her cheeks grew warm, embarrassed by the duct tape overkill, but mostly because she sensed he was using the wall and duct tape as a metaphor. As if he’d read her mind and knew her plan. “Well,” she began, moving closer to him. “I worried the thing would fall again.” She took a few more steps, until she stood between him and the wall. “So, I layered the tape on thick because even if a few pieces loosened, and a few of those layers gave way, I’d feel secure knowing there was extra adhesive to keep it together.” Meeting his gaze, she moved her trembling hands to his chest, hoping he’d catch her meaning.
    Luke stepped back, then swiveled toward the other bedroom window. “Who put these curtain rods up for you?”
    Fingers curling with frustration, she dropped her hands to her sides. “I did, why?”
    He motioned toward the MacGyvered curtain rod. “If this one fell, the other eventually will, too. While I’m at it, I might as well take care of them both.”
    She stepped toward him, until she stood inches from his broad back. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
    He flinched and turned. They were toe-to-toe again. Just the way she’d planned. Only she hadn’t planned on the scowl he wore.
    “I wouldn’t have offered,” he said, his tone flat.
    Her hands shook as she danced her fingers along his chest, and she couldn’t understand why. She’d been with more men than she cared to remember. Seducing a guy was nothing new. Sure, it had been a few years. But enticing a man into her bed should be like riding a bike. Nothing to think about, you just got on and rode.
    Maybe this is more than a ride, the psychologist in her countered. She shut that voice up. In the past, it had never helped her where her own emotions had been concerned. Instead, she drifted her hand up his chest, until she grazed her palm along his bristly jaw. “Then I’ll have to make it up to you.” Even in four inch heels, she had to rise to her tip-toes to brush her lips against his.
    “You don’t owe me anything. You cooked me dinner tonight. Remember?”
    She feathered her fingers through his thick hair. “Cooking you dinner was my way of thanking you for all the times you’d taken me out. Now I want to show you my appreciation for being my handy man. Maybe with a kiss?” she asked, then planted her lips against his.
    He didn’t move. Didn’t budge or return the kiss. Instead, his body became more rigid, and his lips stiffer.
    She’d coax him though, she knew he wanted her by the way his eyes had darkened with raw desire, and by the way his muscles bunch as if he fought for control. She also knew he wanted to stand firm by his no-sex rule until he could prove he could be in a committed relationship.
    She’d commit to him. While she couldn’t quite name the strange heart twisting, belly coiling effect she experienced every time he was near, every time she thought about him, something deep in her soul suggested more than lust, and definitely more than like. Something incomprehensible and something she couldn’t ignore. No man had ever made her feel this way. To want to dive head first into murky waters without knowing what lay beneath.
    With determination, she scattered soft, coaxing kisses along his firm mouth. When he didn’t respond, she tugged his lower lip with her teeth.
    He speared his fingers through her hair, gripped her head and tore his mouth away. He stared at her. Anguish creased his forehead, while lust darkened his eyes.
    She moved her head, but he tightened his fingers and held her still. “Just a kiss. That’s all this is,” she said, even if, in her heart, she knew this was more than that.
    “Jenna, baby, I think —”
    “Don’t,” she urged, and nudged her nose against his.
    He hesitated for a moment, stared at her lips, at her eyes, then smashed his mouth against