I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to keep the smile from splitting my lips. If I get a canker-sore, it’ll be worth it just to have seen the look on Andrews face.

And the look on Ashley’s face. She rears back from Andrew in disgust. “You told me she made out like a bandit from the divorce.”

I laugh. It’s the kind of laugh that bursts out of your mouth when you hear something utterly ridiculous. “If you mean leaving me with credit card debt and living at my mom’s house, then yeah. I made out like a bandit for sure.”

Jaxon feigns surprise. “This is Andrew?” He swipes his bottom lip with his thumb as he appraises Andrew, much like Ashley had scrutinized me moments ago. “You’re a fucking disgrace.”

Andrew squares his shoulders and puffs out his chest. “Excuse me?”

I bump Jaxon with my hip. “He’s not worth it. Let his new girlfriend figure it out for herself.”

Jaxon turns to me and cradles my face in his large hands, looking into my eyes. “I can’t imagine anyone treating you like that. It makes me crazy.”

He’s really going for it, isn’t he?

Just when I think the show’s over, Jaxon’s head dips down and his soft lips are on mine.

My body stills at first. I’m caught off-guard. My initial reaction is to press my hands against Jaxon’s chest and push him off me. But when my hands get there, Jaxon covers mine with his, holding my palms against his racing heart.

And my God are his pecs made of steel?

I get swept up in the moment. I forget about Andrew and what’s-her-name standing there. I forget that we’re in the middle of a grocery store. I forget that I’m kissing the man I’m mad at.

All I can focus on is the way Jaxon’s lips feel. Velvety and warm, he takes his time moving them slowly over mine. The kiss is gentle, but I can feel the passion and fervor rolling off him in waves.

He’s holding back. And I don’t want him to.

When his tongue drags across my lips, I open for him without hesitation. Our mouths meld together in synchronicity. I slide my fingers into his hair, gripping on and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.

This kiss is more. More than I remember it being the night I drunkenly kissed him. More than I’ve fantasized about. More than I’ve ever been kissed by anyone.

A low groan escapes him when he pulls my lower lip into his mouth and sucks, sending a shiver all the way down to my toes.

Someone passing by mutters, “Get a room,” and I snap back to the present moment, in the middle of the cereal aisle.