Free Manhattan Flame (A Bridge & Tunnel Romance Book 2) by Mira Gibson

behind the counter.
    Reluctantly and screaming mental swears, he released the card.
    Tasha was smiling to herself.
    “You’re loving this.”
    “I’m appreciating it,” she corrected. “And it is a little funny. But seriously,” she added, making a point to look him in the eye. “You’re saving my ass.”
    “And you’re staying away from the pier,” he insisted, collecting his card and signing the slip that the cashier had placed on the counter.
    After Tasha grabbed the large, plastic bag containing her items, they set off for the street.
    Dusk was falling over Manhattan. The buildings that lined the avenue twinkled with interior lights. And the air smelled crisp with the dropping temperature.
    Kevin was about to suggest they get a drink and go over all he'd learned about the case when Tasha turned on her heel, pressing up against his body and angling her face so near his that his heart punched out of rhythm.
    The pessimist in him thought he was misunderstanding the gesture, but when her lips met his—soft and full and tender—all doubts were flushed from his mind.
    In fact, he was incapable of thought, feeling the ebb and flow of their mouths opening and angling with an intensifying kiss. He wrapped his arms around her waist, unsure of how tightly to hold her. He wanted to squeeze her hips, graze his hands down her thighs and up her back, but they were in public and this could merely amount to an overzealous thank you . But when she draped her arms over his shoulders, deepening the kiss and breathing heavily as though something about him was giving her ideas she might not be able to fight, he knew that whatever was mounting between them was real and they both needed it.
    The quietest moan escaped her before she urged him back, resting her hands, her long fingers against his chest, as he cradled her hips close to his.
    “Was that too much?” she asked, her mouth curling into a playful smile.
    His brows shot up and he was shaking his head before he knew it. “No, not at all.” After a moment of holding her, gazing down into her eyes, feeling a surge, a need to kiss her again, he asked, “Was that a thank you?”
    “Sure,” she said easily just to mess with him. “And it was also because you're cool.”
    “I'm cool?”
    She frowned, debating. “Yeah, I think so.” He didn’t have to ask why, she was already supplying her reasons. “You care. I don’t know why you care about me,” she said, as if she didn't want to seem presumptuous. She wasn’t being presumptuous as far as Kevin was concerned. “You have a good heart. I trust my instincts when it comes to these things.”
    He let out a rocky breath, his conscience suddenly nagging him. If she trusted him, then he owed it to her to clue her in on the big picture so he suggested, “Can I buy you a drink? It’ll give us a chance to talk... a chance for me to get you up to speed.”
    Grazing her hand up his arm, the heat of her pouring through his jacket and warming him in a way that could make talking in a productive manner a damned challenge, she said, “A drink sounds good, but I don’t want to be out on the street.”
    He smirked. “I meant we could go to a bar.”
    “I don’t want to be in public,” she clarified. “But we can have a drink and talk.”
    He cocked a brow, studying her face. The tension between them was so taut with electricity—arousal burning—that he knew if in a private setting, talking might be the last thing on either of their minds so he said firmly, “There are things I need to tell you.”
    "Good,” she said softly as if the sheer fact of his company had set her mind so at ease that she had forgotten a man had essentially attacked her not an hour ago. “You can tell me at my place.”
    Kevin , he warned himself. If you get in her apartment, you can’t start thinking with your dick.
    “Or if you’d prefer a bar, that’s fine. Just walk me home after-”
    “No, your place is fine,” he blurted out.
    The