Her blue eyes have gone as wide as saucers and her skin porcelain pale, except for the rising pink on her cheeks. I chuckle, wiping at my shirt with my free hand and then letting her do it when she reaches forward to brush the already-soaked-in liquid from my chest. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just breathe,” I repeat gently, as though talking to a cornered animal about to go wild and hurt themselves thrashing to get free, maybe reminding myself to get some oxygen too because the feel of her hands on my chest is better than I imagined.

And I’ve imagined . . . a lot.

She freezes and looks up to meet my eyes, words tumbling over each other, “No, you don’t understand. I’m not freaking out. I’m turned on. I’m thinking about sniffing your bed pillows like a weirdo, contemplating if it’d be better for you to bend me over the island or the couch, and my ovaries are basically exploding—pew, pew, pew—like fireworks because you’re so good with Chunky that I can imagine you as the one of those dads who’d play tea party with your daughter. And all of that is making me hot and nervous . . . and . . . and . . . I should stop talking now.”

Her eyes drop along with her chin, and she locks her gaze on the button centered on my sternum. I stand there in the middle of my kitchen, dumbfounded and slack-jawed. And then it hits me all at once.

Heat, lust, fire, need . . . desire.

Everything I’ve been tamping down around Zoey, trying to control so I don’t scare her off, ignites in an inferno.

I set my beer down at the same time I back her into the counter and take her lips, claiming her deeply. This is not a kiss, not a gentle get-to-know-you peck, but a fuck-I’ve-missed-you soul searing joining.

How have I even missed kissing her? I’ve only done it twice before, but I feel like I’ve missed it my whole life. Unconsciously, I take her beer bottle and set it down too, and her arms go around my neck to hold me as if I’m going any damn where but right here. “Mmm, shit, Zo.”

Her breath mingles with mine, and her voice quavers. “I know, me too.”

I growl, loving that even if she’s skittish emotionally, she’s physically affected by me. I honestly wasn’t sure if I was seeing things that weren’t there just because I wanted them to be.

The kiss goes on forever, neither of us willing to come up for air as our hands explore. I feel her nails score across my shoulders and arch into her touch, letting my hands drop from her jaw . . . to her sides, teasing along the sides of her tits, to her hips.