Sharon’s Wolves(14)

She shrugged and leaned her chin on her hand, her elbow on the glass-top table across from him. “You did save my life.”

He shook his head. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

“What makes you say that?” She eyed him suspiciously, the corners of her mouth turned up the slightest bit.

“For one thing, you look awfully good for a woman who lost as much blood as I saw just a few days ago. So, I have to assume the cut isn’t as bad as it seemed at the time. For another thing, it wasn’t that far down the road to your parents’ lodge.” He leaned forward, tucking his legs under the chair. “And let’s not forget that at least another dozen cars would have come by right behind me if I hadn’t been the one to stop.”

He loved the way her face scrunched up in fake disagreement. “You can’t know all that. You have a vivid imagination.”

“Do I?” What he wanted to do was push the dishes from their meal to the side, lean over the table, and haul her onto her feet so he could kiss her senseless. Instead he continued the necessary banter that accompanied the first date dance.

She giggled. “You do.” She nodded behind her. “Let’s move to the couch.”

He couldn’t think of a better plan. If he could at least woo her to first base, the night would be perfect. And he’d come a long way since last Friday. For an entire week, he’d managed to ignore the fact that all of her siblings lived in unconventional threesomes.

Was it possible she truly didn’t lean that way too? Jazmine thought so.

The problem was, as attracted to her as he was—and damn he was sweating just thinking about lifting her dress over her head so he could see her naked body beneath him—he needed to address that elephant before he went any further with her.

No way in fuck was he going to share her.

If he thought for one second she intended to play that game, he needed to run and never look back. It would hurt. Hell, his cock had been hard for a week. He needed to fuck her so badly he couldn’t concentrate on anything, but he still wasn’t going to share.

Ever.

As Sharon hobbled toward the couch using one of the crutches, he followed behind her, admiring her fine ass for the second time this week. She’d walked away from him yesterday with that tight muscle swishing, and here he was trying to swallow around his dry mouth again tonight.

She had on another dress tonight, probably because it was easier than trying to pull jeans or pants over her injured leg. This dress was sexier than the last one. Black. Tiny. Tight. The material looked soft and comfortable, and it hugged her to perfection. So very fucking sexy that she had to know what it did to a man.

And she had to have worn it on purpose.

Maybe first base wasn’t a pipe dream…

But first things first.

She tugged the hem at her thighs as she settled on the couch and twisted slightly to face him.

He lowered himself next to her, leaving a reasonable first-date space between them. For now.

They’d exchanged all the necessary pleasantries about jobs and family during dinner. All of which was completely redundant since Jazmine had told him everything about her and apparently vice versa. But they’d gone through the motions.

It was time to get serious. He could wait for the second date or the third or fourth or fifth, but why put off the inevitable? It would only make things worse if he grew attached to her and then had to walk away.

Clearing his throat, he gathered courage. “So my sister tells me your brothers all live unique lifestyles.”

She smiled slowly. “They do…”

She was going to make this hard. “That’s kind of unusual, isn’t it? All of them?”

“I suppose it would look that way to most people.” She twisted farther, bending her knee and settling her bad leg on the couch. She leaned her elbow on the back cushion and tipped her face into her palm. And gave him nothing else.

Damn. “And you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you, uh, have the desire to live with two other people?” There. He said it. It was succinct.

She paused, licking her lips. “I’m my own person.”

What did that mean? This wasn’t going well. And to make matters worse, she lifted her head to run her hand through her hair. The dark locks fell in waves over her shoulder, enticing him to lean forward, grab a handful, and bury his face in the thick softness until he memorized the scent of her shampoo. Torture.

“Are you worried about me wanting to be with two men?”

He blew out the breath he’d been holding. “Yes.”

“Well, don’t be. That’s not in the cards for me.”

He watched her face. She seemed to speak in riddles. But she also looked sincere. He had no choice but to take her word for it. And he couldn’t go another moment without tasting her.