Chapter 3
THREE
JAGGAR
Ian’s hand moves from beneath mine to my cheek.
The warmth from his palm flows down my neck, through my chest and belly, fighting off the cold air nipping at my exposed skin, to my very interested cock.
His gaze lands on my mouth, and his tongue follows the same pattern as his thumb tracing my lips.
I stand frozen in place, watching him watch me.
The thrill of anticipation pulses between us, charging the air and freezing the breath in my lungs.
Time ceases. All that exists is Ian and the softness of his thumb against my lips. The feel of his touch. The glistening of his wet lips.
A hawk screeches.
Ian blinks. Once, twice, three times. His hand drops, leaving my skin to prickle with chill. “Guess we should get the chair in.”
“Yep.” The word leaves my dry throat as a croak.
I’m not saying that the intensity of Ian’s stare was the most intimate moment of my life…
But… Okay, it’s definitely the most intimate moment of my life, and I haven’t even kissed the man yet.
What that says about my dating/sex life is best left to contemplate for another day.
“I’ll get it.” He throws his thumb over his shoulder, then jogs down the steps to the truck.
I take the opportunity to enjoy the way his jeans hug his tight ass, molding to thighs that prove the man spends his days doing more than sitting behind a desk.
He reaches the truck, and I turn to unlock the front door.
If possible, it feels colder inside than standing on the porch.
Before my mood can dip lower than the temperature in my house, Ian expertly wheels the dolly up the steps.
“Where to?” He maneuvers the chair through the entryway with ease, guiding it carefully past the newel post Alaric helped me restore.
I gesture for him to follow me. “Just put it where the elephant was.”
“You sure? You don’t want me to bring it to your office?”
“It’s too cold to stay in here any longer than we have to.” I watch as he positions the large box so it’s out of the way of the traffic flow of the room and effortlessly slides it off the dolly. “I’ll deal with the chair once I have heat.”
He nods, his teeth pressing into his bottom lip. “You’re not staying here tonight, are you?”
“No. Conall’s letting me crash at his place.” I follow him out, closing and locking the door behind us.
“Oh.” His forehead creases as he chews his lip. “That’s… good.”
His tone doesn’t sound like he believes what he’s saying, and I’m not sure what to make of it. “What?”
“What, what?” He looks up from securing the dolly inside the truck.
I twirl my finger in a circle in front of his face. “Your scowl is back.”
The scowl disappears, replaced with one corner of his mouth hitching upward. His blue eyes absorb the color of the darkening sky, making them look almost gray, and he shakes his head. “It’s stupid. And probably inappropriate.”
“If earlier events have taught us anything, it’s that we can work past stupid and inappropriate.” I round the front of the van with him to where my car is parked. “We worked through making a scene at a charity event, so I’m confident we can manage anything else.”
There’s another quirk of his mouth, which I find myself enjoying far more than I would have thought.
But before I can contemplate all the ways I want to see that mouth work, his eyes bug out and the quirk quickly turns to an “O” as he points to my car.
My gaze follows his finger to find the front right tire flat.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I groan, cupping my hands behind my head because, at the way my day is going, I wouldn’t be surprised if it fell off and rolled away.
“Come on.” He takes my elbow and guides me to the van. “We’ll deal with this tomorrow.”
I slide into the front seat, staring at the pancake that used to be my tire as Ian climbs in. “I should just put the donut on now.”
“You need a break.” He starts the van, and the engine cranks to life. “And carbs. Carbs make everything better. How about we order pizza?”
I look out the window as the last remnants of daylight dim. “Yeah, pizza is good.”
Conall works tomorrow, and I already feel bad about staying at his place when he has a dart tournament coming up, so asking to use his car is out.
Getting back here will be a pain in the ass, but Ian is right.
I need a break. I don’t have the mental capacity to actually change a tire right now anyway. “This day has kicked my butt.”
Ian spares a glance in my direction, then maneuvers the van down the drive, avoiding the potholes and bumps better than I can do.
As my front tire proves. “I was going to ask if you wanted to stay at my place. I’d set you up in my guest room, obviously.
” Another glance, and he chews on the corner of his lip while his thumbs play a staccato beat on the steering wheel.
“I don’t want you to think the offer is for anything more than…
” Pink tinges the apples of his cheeks above his dark beard.
“My guest room is way more comfortable than the futon in Conall’s dart room.
And in the morning, I can run you back here, and help you change the tire. ”
How freaking nice is this guy? I can’t believe a few hours ago I thought he was an asshole. But staying at his place? I wipe my damp hands on my jeans.
“What’s with his dart obsession?” Yes, I may be using levity to alleviate his obvious nerves. And to settle my heart, fluttering like dozens of vampire bats on the hunt for their next meal.
Okay, no more reading Dracula before bed.
Ian’s shoulders loosen with his smile. “Did you know he keeps a set of ‘travel darts’ in his car?”
“I know! Who does that?” I shift in my seat to face him and rest my hand on his thigh. The heat of his skin penetrating through the denim of his pants does not help the fluttering bats in my chest. Not that it pushes me to remove my hand. Nope. Instead, I squeeze his thigh.
Beneath my palm, muscles flex, and my mouth goes dry. The bob of his Adam’s apple below where his beard ends draws my gaze. And my words fly out in a rush before my brain can catch up. “I’d love to stay at your place. Especially if the offer includes more.”
He chokes out a strained sound, and the van swerves.
I lose my balance, bumping into him, and almost fall face-first into his lap.
Luckily, the strong shoulders I’ve been eyeing since spotting him at the field earlier in the day keep me upright as he rights the truck and pulls it to a stop along the side of the road.
Eyes wide and a little wild turn toward me. His chest rises and falls as his gaze pins me to my spot.
Shit. Did I ruin this—whatever this is—by being too forward?
Maybe he wasn’t trying to be a gentleman.
Maybe he’s one of those guys who likes to take things slow, or maybe he needs to know a person and feel a connection before he feels physical attraction, like my college boyfriend.
I press my thumbnail into my thigh to keep from grabbing his jacket and dragging him to me so I can devour him, which would only make things worse.
“What are you saying, Jaggar?” The gravel of his question spikes my already thrumming desire. I never knew sweet and scowly could be so sexy, but Ian is proving to be surprising on multiple fronts.
I wave my hand in a dismissive motion, and a slightly unhinged sound scrapes from my throat.
“Ignore me. I appreciate your offer, whether or not it includes more.” I slap my hand to my mouth because, obviously, I can’t be trusted not to make this situation more awkward.
“If you’re demi, that’s cool. We can take time to get to know each other. ”
Ian’s scowl cracks, his mouth transforming into a grin that twinkles all the way to his eyes.
He leans in until I can see every striation of blue in his irises and random gray whiskers in his beard, smell the hint of beer on his breath, and feel the heat radiating off his skin.
My gaze falls to his lips, which remind me of when my mother would take me strawberry picking.
The sweetest strawberries were a deep rouge and were so tender their juice would dribble down my chin when I bit into them.
“You are too fucking sweet.” If possible, his voice grows huskier, and I will him to erase the minuscule space between us.
Instead, his twinkle kicks into supernova.
“I’d like nothing more than to kiss you until you forget your name.
” He tips his head closer—his mouth millimeters from mine—but it’s still not close enough.
“Then, we can go back to my place and see what more we want to do.”
My head wobbles up and down like it’s going to fall off, and my stomach swooshes with anticipation, craving his taste and his touch. “Yes. Yes, to all of that.”
The first brush of his lips is soft, exploratory, but it only takes a second for the kiss to transform.
His tongue sweeps across my bottom lip, tasting, savoring, and a groan dances in my chest, urging to be set free.
I lose myself in the tickle of his whiskers against my top lip, and the heat of his mouth as we explore each other.
My head is light, every touch dizzying. The grip of his fingers on my arm is an anchor, keeping me from floating away.
Worries about HVAC systems, burst pipes, delayed timelines, and flat tires vanish with every sweep of his tongue.
Getting lost in Ian’s scent, his touch, his taste is all there is, all that matters.
My phone pings. Ian stiffens and slows the kiss. Gripping his coat, I hold him, wanting to keep him close. No text is worth ending this kiss.
Ping.
Ping, ping, ping.
He smiles against my mouth as his hands cover mine, slowly prying my fingers from where I’m holding him hostage. “Someone is eager to get a hold of you.”
“I don’t care,” I say against his lips.