Free Smolder: The Wildwood Series by Karen Erickson Page A

that Lane heard it.
    “You all right?”
    Whoops.
    He stopped just behind her, so close she could feel the heat emanating from him. Goose bumps rose on her skin from his proximity, and she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip to keep in the shuddery breath that wanted to fall from her lips.
    “I’m fine.” She shook her head, going completely still when his large hand settled on her shoulder. Oh, God, he was touching her. She wanted to melt. Or faint. Or turn around and throw herself at him. Whatever reaction took over first.
    “Water too hot?” His voice was a low, rumbly murmur. “You can just let that pan soak if you want. I’ll take care of it in the morning.”
    “No, no. I’ll wash it.” She sounded high-pitched, like Minnie Mouse after sucking on a balloon full of helium. His nearness made her nervous. Worse, she was afraid he’d let go of her and step away and she’d miss her opportunity. Opportunity for what, she wasn’t sure.
    “You don’t have to—”
    She cut him off. “I made the mess, so I’ll clean up after myself. I don’t mind.”
    He was silent for a moment, though his hand didn’t move. Shockingly enough, he stepped closer, so close his body brushed hers, and she braced her hand on the bottom of the sink so she wouldn’t lean back into him. She was sorely tempted to do exactly that.
    But she remained upright with his hand on her shoulder, his breath stirring the wild hairs near her ear as he murmured, “Thank you for dinner, Dee. It means a lot to me that you did this.”
    She left her hands submerged in the water. It was either that or end up groping him. “I figured you were feeling stressed.”
    “I’m still feeling stressed.” He hesitated, then squeezed her shoulder gently. “But this helped. You’re a good friend, Delilah.”
    His words were like a cold dose of reality. A reality she didn’t want to face. A reality she didn’t have to face if the ignorant man would just give in to the attraction that had been simmering between them for weeks, months, freaking years.
    Removing her hands from the water, she turned to face him. His hand dropped away from her shoulder, his expression one of open shock. She went on pure instinct, grabbing hold of the front of his shirt, her wet fingers curling into the thin cotton, drenching it completely.
    “I’m more than a friend and you know it.” Her voice was surprisingly firm.
    He said nothing, his gaze dropping to her mouth, lingering there. She parted her lips, a shocked noise escaping her when he bent his head and his mouth hovered above hers for the briefest, most tantalizing second of her entire life.
    “You’d like it if I kissed you, wouldn’t you?” His voice was a harsh whisper, his lips nearly moving against hers as he spoke.
    A squeak wheezed out of her, and she tried to suck in a mouthful of air but it was no use. He’d claimed all the oxygen with his nearness, with his words, with the tease of his mouth so damn close to hers. She tightened her hold on his shirt, tugging on him, frustration rendering her mute.
    “You know how long I’ve thought about this?” He slipped an arm around her waist, hauling her into him, and she swore he groaned low in his throat when their bodies made full contact. “Dreamed about it? Every time we’re together, it’s all I can think about. Kissing you. Touching you.”
    Oh. My. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. Was it the beer? He’d had two plus the glass of wine. Well, tipsy Lane or sober Lane, whoever he was, as long as he was touching her, she wasn’t protesting.
    “I shouldn’t do this,” he muttered, his arm loosening around her waist as he started to pull away from her. She reached for the back of his neck, her fingers curling in the hair at his nape, trapping him. He struggled but not too hard and his eyes blazed as he stared down at her. “You don’t want to start with me.”
    “Why?” The word rasped from her throat, her voice full of all the bewilderment