Page 47

Talk about sublime, and to add to the feeling of euphoria currently gripping my body, my cock has decided to join the party.

The last thing I need is for Opal to view me as someone who can’t handle the first sixty seconds of an open-mouthed kiss before he blows his load in his pants.

She tastes like mint with a hint of something sweet. I can’t place it, but who the hell cares what it is? She tastes magnificent. Everything about this woman is utter perfection, right down to the soft moan that escapes her as I shift my hand so I can thread my fingers through her hair.

“Wait,” she says against my lips in a breathless rush. “Can a person faint from kissing?”

I’ve been asking myself the same question since this kiss started. “I think so.”

Her eyes meet mine, and they’re filled with wonder and need. She wants me as desperately as I want her, but it’s overwhelming her.I know that because I see what I feel reflected back when I look at her.

I kiss her once more, but it’s soft and tender. When we pull apart, she lets out a sigh. “I knew you’d be a good kisser.”

It’s not the first time I’ve heard that from a woman, but it is the first time it’s mattered to me. I want to rip my vest and shirt open, pound on my bare chest with both fists and let out an animalistic cry of victory because the most amazing woman on this earth thinks I’m a good kisser.

I smile at the mental image of that while I take her hands in mine. “Why don’t we sit down so we can both catch our breath?”

Nodding, she lets me lead her toward the bar. “You need to catch your breath too?”

“Damn right, I do,” I say as I motion for her to sit on a stool. “I need some water. Do you want a glass? It’s behind the bar, right?”

She skirts around me, almost running into my side as she mad dashes to beat me to get to the pitcher of water first. “I can get it.”

I’ve got nothing against a woman being territorial. I hope one day in the not too distant future, Opal will be as territorial with me as she is with the bar.

I hold up both hands as if I’m surrendering to her will. “I’m a guy who can take a hint.”

That lures a soft laugh from her. “My reaction did seem a little overboard, didn’t it?”

I take the glass of cold water she offers me. “Who am I to judge? You’ve worked hard on this place. I can’t blame you for not wanting someone behind the bar who has no clue where anything is. For all you know, I could have bumped into that shelf, and that tower of glasses would have crashed to the floor.”

She steals a glance over her shoulder at a shelf behind her. “That’s actually a sculpture. It looks like a tower of glasses, but it’s a famous sculptor’s work. Hildy had it delivered this morning as a launch gift.”

I rest both elbows on the bar so I can lean forward for a better look. “No shit?”

She laughs while flicking a fingernail against the top of the sculpture. It doesn’t move an inch. “See? It’s not even made of glass. It’s some type of resin. It’s indestructible. My great aunt loves art.”

I do as well, but the saying that beauty lies within the eye of the beholder has never held more weight because I wouldn’t pay a dime for that sculpture.

“It’s not exactly my taste,” Opal says as if she can read my mind. “But I want Hildy to see this bar as a reflection of her, too, so I’m glad to display anything she sends my way.”

She takes a sip from her glass of water while her gaze volleys between me and something behind the bar. She keeps looking down, but when her eyes meet mine, a soft smile slides over her lips.

I’d like to think the kiss is to credit for her mood, but I suspect there’s something else at play, so I ask, “What’s back there, Opal? Did Hildy get you another sculpture? Is it a board game you’re scared to challenge me to because you know I’ll win?”

“Very funny.” She takes another drink. “We both know I can beat you at any game, William.”

I’d argue that point, but she’s likely right. Concentration is required to win any game, and focusing on anything but her when she’s within ten feet of me is impossible. I can attest to that because it’s happening right now.

She glances down again. “I have a thank you gift for you.”

I’m tempted to joke that thanking me for the kiss isn’t necessary, but I don’t go there because if anyone should thank someone for that kiss, I should be the one showering her with gratitude.

“For?” I draw that word out.

“For the pill box,” she says, like I should already know the answer to my question.

“I got you the pill box to thank you for the special edition Turquoise Crown game,” I point out. “You weren’t supposed to get me a gift thanking me for that.”