“Dented the rear fender.” Barely managing to keep a straight face, she turned to leave her coat and boots by the door. “Backed into a light pole.”
His head jerked in her direction. His eyes narrowed. He studied her a moment, then relaxed and turned to offer Annie another spoonful. “You’re a bad liar.”
She gave a quiet laugh. “So I’ve been told.”
She crossed the room, stopping at his side. He made a goofy face at Annie, who rewarded him with a big messy grin. It was a sight that warmed her heart, seeing that soft side of him. It didn’t matter how many times he showed it to her; it awed her every time.
Annie waved her hands again, grunting to be picked up. Emma took one chubby little fist in hers and kissed the top of her head, inhaling the aroma of baby shampoo. She was clean and happy. Dillon wasn’t wearing hardly any baby food this time, which meant he managed to get most of it into Annie.
“You’re doing very well with her. I’m impressed. She usually doesn’t take to new people or new situations, but you she seems to like.”
He darted a glance at her, one brow arched, a self-pleased grin spreading across his mouth. “I won’t even say it.”
She smiled again, in spite of herself, and gave a slow shake of her head. “Seems I owe you a kiss then.”
He turned his head to stare at her, heat flashing sudden and intense in the depths of those dark eyes. For an extended moment, every intimate tidbit they said to each other over the last three days and the intimacy they shared hovered in the air between them.
Without another word, he set the now empty jar of baby food down on the table, then picked up a washcloth and wiped Annie’s face. Once clean, he stood and unbuckled her from the high chair.
“She’s due for a nap.” He lifted Annie out of the chair, grabbed a bottle off the table, and turned to Emma. “Would you like the honor?”
The question was an innocent one. She missed Annie and he knew it. His gaze burned into hers, tension and desire skipping between them. The overwhelming need to press along the length of his body and slip into his embrace returned. The need to taste his mouth again was so fierce her heart pounded, her breath coming harsh and shallow.
With trembling hands, she took Annie from him and went to sit on the sofa. She basked in the moment, committing every coo, every tiny smile to memory. Getting to hold Annie after three long days, the hard ball of anxiety in her stomach finally eased.
Belly full, it didn’t take long before Annie’s eyes closed in slumber. After depositing her into the crib and closing the bedroom door, Emma moved back into the living room. Dillon stood in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter, hands gripping the edge, his gaze on the floor.
He looked up when she entered, and their gazes collided. That sweet tension rose over the room and zipped across the space between them.
She stared at him, all those childhood insecurities swelling to life. She should turn around and walk away. What she contemplated was dangerous at best. This man had been her sister’s lover, and the doubt demon inside her head insisted all Dillon could possibly want from her was sex. He didn’t want her. Men never did.
Dillon pushed away from the counter, his gaze hot and intense. He slipped his hands onto her hips and tugged her against him. All those awful doubts flitted away. Heart pounding, every inch of her came alive with the feel of him pressed against her, from her breasts against the solid wall of his chest to his hard thighs against hers. The undeniable swell of his arousal pressed into her belly and her breath caught. Heat flooded her, each point of contact setting her body ablaze.
“You don’t owe me anything.” His voice was thick with need. His head dipped down, but his mouth hovered out of reach, like he waited for permission.
“A bet’s a bet.” Fisting his T-shirt in her hands, she pulled herself closer, lifting onto her tippy-toes to close the miniscule space between them. She wanted him the way he seemed to want her. Just once, she had to taste him one more time, to feel the power of his passion. Then she’d let him go.
Dillon let out an agonized groan, crushing her against him. He claimed her mouth, his kiss hungry, possessive, demanding. His tongue delved inside, flicking against hers, coaxing it to respond. His body trembled and his heart pounded in time with her own.
She wound her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in the thick, silky locks at the back of his head and slanting her mouth over his. God help her, he tasted unearthly. No man had a right to taste this good—hot, wet and heady, with a hint of mint on his tongue, and she wanted more. Wanted all of him. She needed to feel the passion she’d only ever experienced in his arms.