Olivia’s mind short-circuited, her thoughts coming in quick fragments. He’s close. So close. Too close.
She could feel his warm breath on her face. Smelled the intoxicating mixture of soap and his natural scent.
Olivia remembered his touch. His taste. And it was all too much.
Suffering from sensory overload, she wanted to tell him to back up and give her some space. She wanted to yell and ask him where he’s been for the past two months.
A part of her even wanted to scream at the top of her lungs for him to get the hell out of her house and never come back.
She’d been doing just fine on her own, and didn’t need him showing up here unannounced with his perfect body and freaking crooked smiles.
Just being in the same room as him was messing with her head. So, yep. She wanted him gone.
Then, why aren’t you telling him to leave?
“Is that really what you want to do, Liv?” Jake’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts. He glanced at the mugs behind her. “Drink tea and exchange pleasantries?”
Opening her mouth, Olivia tried to tell him what she really wanted was for him to go, but nothing came out.
What was wrong with her? Was she really so weak for the man that she’d actually lost her ability to speak?
Apparently, because as Jake leaned toward her with pure determination in his eyes, her vocal chords froze. When his gaze fell onto her mouth, her breaths began to come in short, shallow spurts.
Olivia licked her lips—something she seemed to do a lot around him—and when those blue eyes rose up to hers once more, she realized the very last thing in the world she wanted was for him to leave.
She wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her the way she’d dreamed about for months. Wanted to know he’d missed her every bit as much as she’d missed him.
Soon, that want became a ferocious need.
She suddenly needed Jake’s lips on hers more than her next breath. The ache between her legs grew exponentially, and despite her earlier thoughts, Olivia couldn’t stop her body’s natural reaction to this man.
He hasn’t even touched you yet, and you’re melting into a puddle. Get a grip, Bradshaw!
Except, she couldn’t. This was Jake, and when it came to him, all traces of logic and common sense flew right out the flippin’ window. Along with her self-control.
Her entire body ached for him, now, every muscle screaming for his touch. The only thing she could do now was stand there and wait for those sensual lips to find hers.
Jake leaned in and began to wrap his arms around her. Rather than fight a losing battle, Olivia closed the gap between them.
Her breasts brushed against his hard chest, and she felt ridiculously triumphant when his fingers pressed into the flesh at her shoulder blades in reaction.
Reaching up, Olivia clasped her hands behind his neck. When she lifted to her tiptoes, both of Jake’s hands began to slide lower.
She closed her eyes. Her lips neared his as his fingers continued their torturous decent. Slowly, they moved even lower until finally, blessedly, he made a move to grab her...gun?
Before Olivia could react, Jake had the weapon freed from her pants, and had broken out of her grasp. He stepped back, putting some distance between them.
Her eyes flew open. He was just standing there, with her gun at his side.
Olivia couldn’t keep up with the sudden onslaught of emotions. She was confused. Disappointed. Mortified and...pissed.
Raising an arrogant brow, he said, “Care to explain yourself?”
Both stunned and furious—mainly at herself for falling for the almost-kiss tactic—she blurted out, “What are you...give that back to me!”
Like two children playing keep-away, Jake held the gun above his head and out of her reach. To no avail, Olivia jumped, trying to snatch it from his hand.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
His voice was stern, and she could tell he was starting to get angry. Well, isn’t that just too damned bad?
“Nothing’s going on,” she stopped jumping and glared at him. “I’m a single woman, who lives alone. And, I have all the necessary paperwork for the gun.”
His expression told her he wasn’t buying it.
Getting more frustrated by the second, Olivia said, “I have every right to protect myself, Jake. For crying out loud, lots of women carry guns.”
She reached for it again, but he continued to hold it away from her with very little effort.
“Sure they do,” Jake agreed. “But I’m willing to bet most don’t feel the need to have their guns in their hands before answering their fucking doors.”
He took a breath, his eyes searching hers as he continued pushing for the truth. “Give me a break, Liv. You’ve moved, added new locks and a high-end security system, changed your phone number, and now this?” Jake tilted his head toward the gun.
Olivia watched as he emptied the bullet from the chamber, released the magazine, and had her gun completely dismantled and on the table behind him...all in a matter of seconds.
She definitely should not be turned on by that, but holy moly, that was hot.
“I think someone’s bothering you, and I want to know who it is.”
Jake was glaring at her, now, his hands low on his hips. He looked so...
Dominating.
The word forced its way into her thoughts and, damn, if she wasn’t even more turned on than before. What the hell is wrong with you?
It was a sickness. It had to be. She was certifiably, mentally ill.
At least that would explain how, even though she wanted to beat the crap out of him for treating her like his best friend’s kid sister again, Olivia also wanted to strip him naked and take him right there on the cold, linoleum floor.
Her panties got wet just thinking about it. Yep, you are one sick puppy, Bradshaw.
Reining it all in—barely—Olivia
