“That’s all I need,” he murmurs huskily, right before covering my mouth with his. Strong, warm hands hold my throat, keeping me in place, his grasp gentle yet possessive. The raging intensity of heat that immediately surges between us catches me off guard. Before I realize it, I’m kissing him back, opening my mouth and welcoming his tongue. I melt into him as our kiss deepens into something seamless and primal.

Long minutes pass before Sam draws away just an inch, only long enough to give me time to catch my breath.

Damn that felt good.

“There’s your one kiss,” I say, my voice unrecognizable to my own ears. “The show’s over.”

I’m reeling from the aftershocks. Sure, I knew kissing Sam would be good. He’s a ladies' man. Of course he would know how to please a woman. With my eyes still shut tight, I feel more than see his smile as he moves his lips against mine.

“Maybe I want more than one,” he growls, his grasp on my throat tightening just a fraction as he seizes my lips again with a ferocious frenzy.

My fingers clutch at the back of his neck with my self-control sliding down a slippery slope. His heart is racing wildly underneath my hand on his shirt. It would be so easy to move this into the bedroom.

I would like to.

No, that’s a lie.

I would love to.

But I won’t.

I meant what I told him. I’m not sleeping with him.

Mustering all the willpower I have in me, I reluctantly break the kiss and pull back. We’re both breathing erratically and I’m in a daze. Reaching up, I smooth back a messy lock of his hair that keeps falling down over his forehead.

“You’re sleeping on the sofa tonight,” I say with a bit of regret. “Not in the bed with me.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, and he abruptly turns me loose so I can slide off his lap.

“No arguments from you?”

I give him a suspicious look because I’m surprised he would give up so easily. And maybe a tad disappointed too.

“None,” he says before adding, “Do you know how to cook biscuits and gravy?”

I stare at him. We just shared the best kiss of my life, and he’s thinking about food? Does he really think I’m going to get up early and cook him breakfast? Sam must have balls of steel to suggest such a thing to me.

“Do I look like a short order cook to you? No, I don’t know how to cook biscuits and gravy, and I don’t want to learn. Don’t get any thoughts about hanging around for breakfast. Not even coffee. In the morning, you need to get your hungover butt up early and leave. I’ve got work to do and I’m sure you do too.”