Chapter 3

“Come on,” George said. “Let’s go through to the kitchen.”

I followed him and sat on the chair he pulled out for me.

“This is a nice place,” I said, glancing around the big, bright kitchen. “Must be pretty expensive.”

“It is,” he admitted. “But I don’t live here alone. I have a housemate. He’s out right now, but he’ll be back later.”

“Ah, got it.”

He grabbed a wet rag from beside the sink and ran it under the tap. I started to reach for it, thinking I’d clean my leg myself, but then he dropped to his knees in front of me.

I looked down at him, my pulse already quickening.

He wrapped his fingers around my ankle. The touch felt electric, intimate in a way I hadn’t expected. No one had ever held me there before. Did he know that? Of course not. But he did it so easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He smiled up at me. Then the cool cloth touched my skin, and I shivered.

His pressure was gentle, careful. Having him on his knees like this, tending to me, felt dangerously close. I couldn’t look away.

“There you go,” he murmured. “All done.”

He stayed down there. Our eyes locked. The air between us thickened, charged.

He took my ankle again and lifted my leg just a little.

“All clean now,” he whispered.

Then he leaned in and brushed his lips against the spot he’d just wiped. My heart stumbled.

I stared at him, breathless. He wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t rushing. He seemed to know exactly how to touch me, how to make me want more without saying a word.

Another kiss, higher, at my knee. My dress had slipped, baring more skin.

Then one soft press of his mouth to the outside of my thigh.

A voice in my head whispered I should stop him. I told it to shut up.

He let go of my ankle and stood.

For a second I thought the moment had slipped away. Disappointment hit me hard.

But then he took both my hands and pulled me up.

“What do you say?” he asked, voice low.

I couldn’t speak. I just looked at him, waiting.

He cupped my chin, tilting my face to his. My heart pounded.

He leaned down slowly. His lips brushed mine, teasing, finding the perfect fit. Then his tongue slipped past my parted lips, meeting mine in a slow, hungry dance.

One hand stayed on my face, thumb stroking my cheek. The other settled at my waist, pulling me closer.

I reached up. My fingers grazed the stubble on his jaw. My other hand pressed against his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt.

The kiss deepened, heat building like a slow fire.

His hand on my waist guided me back until the edge of the table pressed into me. No escape. I didn’t want one.

I pushed into him. Our bodies fit together perfectly—his strength against my softness.

He felt solid, powerful. Every shift of his muscles sent sparks through me.

Then he eased back, just enough to look at me. He took my hands again, squeezed them, and smiled.

I smiled back, suddenly shy. I glanced away, then back, biting my lip.

This was different. No alarms going off in my head. No urge to pull away.

All those old fears were gone. I felt free. Alive. A little scared—and that only made it better.

We both wanted this.

I was ready to fall into whatever came next.