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Love her.

Chapter Twenty

BLAKE WASN’T THINKING of anything else but Hannah as he kissed her, memorizing the contours of her lips. He’d been halfway across the room when that little douche bag had tried to kiss her, and when he’d seen her use the move he’d taught her, he’d wanted to whoop in celebration.

Having Hannah in his arms felt so good, so right. He wanted to strip her slowly out of her incredibly poofy gown and kiss every surface of her body until she came, slipping into her when she was still warm and throbbing from her release.

God, just thinking about it was getting him close.

Slow, remember? What the hell happened to slow? Fucking Hannah in the storeroom is the opposite of slow . . .

Which meant he needed to put some distance between them before he forgot all about his good intentions.

Pulling back from the kiss, he pressed his lips to each of her cheeks, her nose, the spot on her neck just below her jawline. She sighed, and he felt it against his mouth as it vibrated in her throat.

“Blake . . . ”

It was so hard to break away from her, but he did, leaning his forehead against hers, taking deep shuddering breaths to calm his libido.

“I don’t want to stop.”

“Then don’t.”

Her answer surprised him, and as he gazed down into her dreamy hazel eyes, he almost did it. Almost pushed it all aside and took what he needed so desperately. What Hannah was offering.

But he wasn’t that guy. He wasn’t going to hook up for the first time with a woman he liked in a storeroom. Hell, he’d rented an expensive hotel for Jenny the first time they’d . . .

Blake closed his eyes, pushing that thought away.

No, you aren’t going to think about that. Not now.

Smoothing his hands up her body and over her hair, careful not to mush it, he said, “I am this close to pulling your dress up and making you come against the wall.”

“Oh.” Her mouth opened in a little O of surprise, and then her hand came up and she ran her thumb across his lips. Unconsciously, he flicked his tongue out against the pad, and the look on her face was almost his undoing.

“Okay, I’m going to step away from you, because if I don’t, all my good intentions are going out the window.”

She let him go, and he turned away, needing to adjust himself as his cock strained painfully against the front of his pants.

“I thought . . . ” Her voice trailed off, and he turned, the sight of her leaning against the wall, her breaths still coming fast and deep, giving him a whole new understanding of the term heaving bosom.

“You thought what?”

A shadow fell over her expression, and she seemed to be thinking about what she was going to say.

“Was the other night a date?”

Blake’s jaw dropped. Okay, maybe it hadn’t exactly started date-like, but by the end, he had thought it was clear . . .

“Yeah, it was a date.”

“But you said you weren’t ready for anything serious.”

“I know I did, but I—”

Her gaze narrowed, and she took a step toward him. “You said you weren’t over your wife’s death and you just wanted to be friends.”

“But then—”