Chapter 12 Rowe
Rowe
He is for sure going to kill me.
But even though death is upon me, it’s impossible not to notice that Pane’s lips are soft, yet firm, as I press my mouth to his.
He’s the last man I want to kiss—other than Luke. But desperate times and all that.
I keep my mouth glued to Pane’s and venture opening one eye to check Cristina’s progress. My bestie’s getting the car line dismantled. Yay! Give it just a few more seconds, and the last folks will be moving on.
And I’ll be able to disentangle myself.
But before that happens, Pane tears away from the kiss and rears back, chest heaving.
“What are you doing?” he demands.
Oh, crap. I’m in deep trouble now.
His eyes blaze with rage. His nostrils flare. His cheeks are streaked with red as he glowers at me.
Before I can come up with an answer, he rushes forward, cups the back of my head with one hand, and slides his other hand around my waist.
Then Pane Maddox lays one on me.
In other words, he kisses me back.
And what a kiss it is.
His lips are full and soft as they take me, prod me, devour me. My eyes flutter shut and I melt against him, forgetting for a moment that I’m kissing enemy number two.
He has obviously also forgotten our mutual dislike of one another, because his tongue slips past my teeth and tangles with my own.
Whoa. I am not expecting this.
He tastes like coffee and butter. This strange medley is suddenly my new favorite flavor combination. I can’t get enough of it.
His hand on my waist drops to my hip and squeezes. Even through my clothes, the heat of his touch scalds my flesh, creating a fire that erupts in my core and floods every cell in my body.
I want to drown in him. Clearly, I’ve lost my mind, am definitely experiencing temporary insanity.
Worse, I’m . . . moaning!
I’m moaning into Pane Maddox’s billionaire mouth and his fingers are hooking into the loops of my jeans.
He tugs me to him so that my chest is flat against his.
His stubble scrapes my skin, making my face tingle.
My nipples are diamond-hard. My panties are soaked, and every nerve ending in my body screams with pleasure.
My knees are Jell-O, and when he deepens the kiss, I can’t believe that it’s even possible. This is bliss. Pure, absolute ecstasy. I haven’t kissed anyone like this in, maybe—ever. Not even Luke.
Our tongues are in sync now, like it’s a competition of who can deep throat the other person the best. Okay, that sounds kind of gross. Perhaps not an accurate description.
It’s way better than I can describe. The air around me is charged with energy. The glass in the windows rattles. The floorboards jump.
Wait. Is the magic infused in the earth responding to our kiss?
There’s no time to ponder, not when I’m deep in the best. Kiss. Ever.
I tangle my fingers in his silky hair and inhale his scent. Pane smells good—like juniper . . . and something else that I can’t place and don’t want to right now. It’s bright and masculine. I could swim in his scent.
My mind goes numb as his hand slides up my side, getting dangerously close to the rim of my breast.
That’s when my brain snaps back into place.
What am I doing? Am I really allowing myself to be felt up by some rando I met yesterday after a four-year dry spell? Have I lost my mind?
I jump back, breaking the kiss.
Pane’s pupils are blown, and his eyes are overflowing with lust. Same as mine are, I’m sure.
He blinks, shakes his head as if surfacing from a trance. “W-what the—” he stammers, stepping back. “That was completely unprofess—”
“Thank you,” I spew out. “For liking the biscuits. No one’s ever liked my cooking so much, and I got carried away.
Just felt the urge to kiss you. It’s a thing we do here in Mystic Meadows.
” I continue to blab, coming up with a terrible lie.
“We kiss people as thanks. Sometimes. Not all the time—and certainly not married people, unless it’s on the cheek, and definitely not during flu season because that would be spreading germs.”
“That was you thanking me for liking a biscuit?” He scrubs a hand down the stubble peppering his chin and takes a step into my space, towering over me like a beast. “What if I want to thank you for feeding me the most delicious meal I’ve ever tasted?”
The glint in his eyes is dangerous, and my brain screams at me to run and hide in a cave—a dark cave, with very little flickering light so that all I can see are shadows when Pane sneaks up on me, grabs me by the waist, and—
Stop fantasizing about the evil, grunty man.
I fold my arms. “Don’t get used to it.”
He chuckles bitterly. “Shouldn’t that be the other way around? You shouldn’t get used to kissing me. I get it. I’m the whole package—rich, successful, handsome. A lot of women have thrown themselves at me. You wouldn’t be the first. In fact, you’re not.”
Why, this smug jerk. He thinks he’s got some sort of power over me? That I just can’t help myself? Oh, he is so, so wrong.
He shoots me a sympathetic look. “Let’s not do this, okay? We both know you’re in trouble financially, and I’m very good at spotting women who want to take advantage of me.”
I scoff. “Are you calling me a gold digger?”
“We prefer the term fortune hunter.”
Is he for real? Pane Maddox thinks I’m trying to use him for his money?
I throw my head back and laugh. “Trust me, the last person I’m interested in is you.
I’m sure where you come from, the only thing people value is your money and the social status that being linked to you will get them.
But that’s not how we do things here in Mystic Meadows.
We judge people by their character. Money isn’t the most important thing to us—or me, for that matter.
So let’s get that straight. I might be broke, but I’m not interested in you or your cash.
You are the very last person on earth I would ever be with—rich or not.
So you can put a pin in that inflated head of yours. ”
With that, I toss a glance toward the window. The line of cars is nowhere in sight. Neither is Cristina, for that matter.
Good. Because I don’t want to be cramped in this house with Pane Maddox for one minute more.
I grab my purse and sling it over my shoulder. “Let’s head into town and see if your social status can help my farm.”
“By the way . . .” he adds as I’m halfway out the door.
“Yeah?” I halt, and the screen door whacks against my arm. “What?”
It takes him so long to talk that I glance over my shoulder to see him standing with his arms crossed, a smug smirk slapped across his face.
“Rule number four,” he announces. “No kissing.”