He wants to take me to dinner. He wants to woo me. He thinks we have the potential for something special and we can’t ruin it.

But I think I might incinerate from the inside out if we don’t push it to the next level.

“So. Dinner? Tomorrow.”

I grit my teeth together.

Tomorrow. Everything is always tomorrow. I hate tomorrow!

I take a deep, calming breath. Love. I need to get through this with love. I need to take control of myself. Not everything is about sex. I need to remember why I liked Alex in the first place, and it’s not just because of his clever tongue and strong hands and leanly muscled physique.

Wait a minute. “Why don’t we go now?” My voice is more clipped and forceful than I intended it to be.

His brows lift. “You want to go to dinner now?”

“Sure, why not? A lot of places are open this late.” Plenty of people eat dinner late at night. People who work late, drunks, swing-shift workers, and lusty women stuck in time loops. There are no rules.

He shrugs. “I’m not hungry.”

“You don’t have to eat. Or we could get dessert. Or you could watch me eat.” Because that’s not weird.

He rubs my arms. “Jane, are you all right?”

“I need sustenance. Hunger is making me loopy.” Ha. Loopy. Interesting word choice. And it fits. If I was one of the seven dwarfs, that would be my name. I shove away the ridiculous thought. Can constant arousal make you senseless?

“Well, then. Let’s go eat.”

Chapter Eleven

I should be nervous. I mean, I am nervous, but I should be more nervous.

I’m on a date with Alex. A date with Alex. Old Jane would have been freaking out, frozen, stuttering, possibly sweating all over the place, gassy, you know, the attractive stuff.

Now I’m new Jane. New Jane has made out with Alex more times than she can count on her fingers and toes. New Jane is more concerned with getting into Alex’s pants than any conversational faux pas.

Is living in this time loop turning me into a sex fiend? Maybe I should slow it down, take it easy. I’m going to lose my mind from the lust. I need to focus on talking to Alex. Just talking. To learn more about him.

Things other than what he tastes like. The way his firm, lean, muscular form fits so perfectly with mine. The way he smells, especially the warm place where his shoulder meets his neck and smells like soap and man and sex.

My entire body flushes with heat.

Stop it, Jane.

“Golden Boy Pizza is around the corner. Have you been?” He motions down the street with a head tilt.

“No. Pizza sounds great.” Anything to distract me from the never-ending thrum of desire burning under my skin.