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“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ve waited fifteen years for this. For you, and I don’t want to wait another day.”

I kiss her then. I kiss her because I have to. But I rein myself in and stay on the right side of indecent exposure. She molds her body to mine and grasps at the hair on the back of my head. It takes everything in me not to break a bunch of laws right now.

I pull back, and she whimpers. “Okay. Let’s go to my house. But I’ll follow you.” I want to keep her in my sights the whole time.

She sighs. “I really regret driving separate cars right now.”

* * *

The drizzle that started ten minutes into the drive turned into a storm. The rain comes down so hard I can barely see Ava’s car ahead of me. My phone rings, and I tap the screen on the dashboard to accept the call. “Hey.”

“Hi, just making sure you’re still behind me. I can’t see anything with this rain.”

“I am. We’re almost there. Take the next right and the first left after that. Stay on the phone until we get there.”

“Okay.”

We’re both silent as the rain hits the windshield with such a fury that the wipers can’t keep up. She slows as she turns into my driveway. I follow, parking next to her. I try to look at her through the passenger window, but it’s like looking through a waterfall. The sound of her laugh comes through the speaker. “Well, this will be fun. Ready to race to the door?”

“I am if you are.” The chilly rain might cool me off and ram some sense into me.

“All right. Let’s hang up. You count to ten slowly and then go.”

I hang up, turn off the engine, and start counting. I make it to four when Ava opens her car door and fights the wind to close it again. She dashes past the front of my SUV before I have a chance to get out. I run after her, and by the time we get under the cover of the porch, we’re both soaked.

She’s laughing and holding her belly. “Oh my God. I’d be less wet if I jumped into a pool.”

“You cheated. You didn’t count to ten.”

She wipes wet hair off her face. “I didn’t cheat. I never said I’d count to ten. I said you should.”

The little cheater. She’s soaked, her blue blouse clings to her skin, the jeans miniskirt is glued to her ass, her hair is a mess, and she smiles at me like she’s never been happier than at this very moment. “You’re beautiful.”

Her eyes widen, and her laugh dies. She lowers her gaze, and her cheeks go pink. “I don’t know about that. I’m sure I look like a drowned rat.”

“The most beautiful drowned rat I’ve ever seen.” I kiss her. Her lips part for me, an invitation to go in. And I do. She shivers, and I remember that we’re still very wet and still outside.

I pull away. “Let’s go inside and get dry.”

Chapter46

Avalon

Without his touch,I’m cold. My skin pebbles. A chill runs down my spine. He opens the door and ushers me in. We stop just inside the door, and a puddle grows at our feet. Kojak comes from around the corner and with a disdainful look and sniff, turns his back on us and walks away, tail held high.

Jake toes off his sneakers. “I’ll grab some towels.”

I take my sandals off, and the cold hardwood floor under my feet adds to my discomfort. Jake comes back with a fluffy towel and a change of clothes. “Go in there.” He points to the powder room. “Take everything off and dry yourself. Here’s a T-shirt and sweatpants. Bring the wet stuff out and I’ll put them in the drier.”

I fight with my wet clothes—they stick to me like glue. I quickly dry myself and get dressed. Jake’s clothes swallow me. I bury my face in his T-shirt and inhale. Fresh clean laundry andhim. The long-sleeved T-shirt goes well past my thighs, and I have to roll the waist in the pants several times. Tucking my wet clothes and underwear into the now damp towel, I wonder if I should have kept my panties on, but they are just as wet as the rest of my clothes. Combing my hair with my fingertips, the curls fall in soft waves around my face. The reflection in the mirror shows bright eyes and flushed skin. My stomach flutters with anticipation. I take a deep breath to still myself and open the door.

Not far away, Jake waits. His clothes match mine—a long-sleeved, black Henley and gray sweatpants. He’s barefoot, too. “Better?”

“Yes, thanks. Your clothes fit me perfectly. I might have to borrow them more often.”

His gaze travels from the top of my head to my red-painted toes. He looks like he wants to eat me. “You can borrow them any time you want.”