He smiled when their eyes met, his finger grazing her chin to lift it the last little bit he needed. His soft lips held hers, the scratch of the stubble beyond them harsh when she deepened the kiss. Her hand cupped his throat, and his pulse sped up, beating more urgently against her palm.

A moan rose in Andra’s chest, and she pressed closer, her free hand pulling the hem of his shirt out of his pants so she could feel his skin. It was impossibly smooth, the muscles flexing beneath in immediate reaction to her touch. For a moment, she hesitated, remembering how he’d stopped her the last time she’d gone for the buttons on his shirt. But this time his hands were rough on her waist, hugging her into him so tightly it was almost hard to move, and she wanted more than this.

Her teeth grazed his bottom lip as she shoved his shirt out of the way, her palms making it as high as the thick pads of his pecs. He half growled and shifted beneath her. “Andra, you—”

She didn’t let him finish, her tongue bolder than it had ever been. Every space between their bodies was a nagging reminder of what it was like when her house was empty of the lilt of his drawl, and she hated it.

She stepped off his lap and grabbed his shirt in both fists, hauling him up after her. She stumbled but he caught her, ending their kiss with a ragged gulp of air. His brown eyes were hazy with need. She pulled him inside, the front door banging back against the wall and ricocheting closed. His weight shifted toward the couch, but she took his hand in hers and slid the old multipaned doors aside on their tracks.

“I, uh—” he said.

It was the first time he’d been past those doors into her bedroom, and she kept toward the center of the room so he wouldn’t hit his head on the ceiling that sloped down to either side. He looked huge in here, so tall in her nook of a bedroom, but somehow familiar, too. The way he’d looked at home in her kitchen the first time he’d stepped through the door.

When she made it to the foot of the bed, she spun around, her heart pounding so hard the movement made her head swim.

“I want to . . .” She squeezed his hand. “I want to feel you.” She lost her nerve to look into his eyes and focused on his buttons instead, popping them open from the bottom as if he’d be less likely to stop her there than if she dared to begin at the top.

His lips brushed her bent forehead. “You can do anything you want to when it comes to me, sweet girl.”