She blushes.

“I’m going to kiss you, Elena. Right here in the nursing mothers’ room.”

“I don’t think you should.”

“Right now in this instance, I am. I don’t think I paid nearly enough attention to your lips on Friday night.” My lips hover over hers, and I tilt her head up. “If you want to run, now’s your chance.”

Her breath comes out in little pants. “You better not kiss me.”

“Then move away from me.”

“I shouldn’t have to.”

“You really should, or it’s going to happen.”

“No, it isn’t!”

Her breath hitches. But she doesn’t move a muscle.

“Last chance,” I say softly, tugging on a piece of her hair.

“Stop that.”

I laugh. “You’re like an angry kitten. But you aren’t moving. I’m not holding you, Elena.”

“I can’t move!”

“Same.”

She takes a breath. “But it’s church, and we shouldn’t.”

“People kiss when they get married here.”

“You’re infuriating.” Her eyes are on my mouth as her tongue comes out and dabs at her lips.

“I want to show you so many things, Elena.”

“You mean like sex things? Because I may be a little inexperienced, but I assure you I can keep up quite well—”

“I know.” I laugh and press my lips against hers.

Chapter 15

ELENA

I forgot how beautifully he kisses, his lips soft at first as they meet mine, parting my mouth, widening it slowly with little nips, his tongue delving deep, sliding against mine. His hand lands on my hip before sliding around to cup my ass. “Elena,” he murmurs against my cheek and takes my mouth again, sure and fast, his tongue tangling with mine. He tastes divine, sweet and dark mixed together, and we go from zero to a thousand in five seconds, starved and ravenous, our hands all over each other. Mine slide up his chest, stroking the expensive fabric, the rustle of my touch against him more erotic than it should be. My nipples bead inside my bra, erect and aching, and I grab his hair, sinking into him and letting go of all the misgivings I have. Why not? Kissing him is like holding an exploding star, hot and vibrant and lethal—and I want it. Just one little peck, I tell myself. Besides, it’s the kind of kiss you write in your diary; it’s the one you’ll remember when you’re old and gray.

He groans and presses me closer against him, letting me feel the hard length inside his jeans. I sigh into his mouth, my hands digging into his shoulders. He doesn’t do anything shyly or slow when it comes to this; no, he gets right to the heart of what he wants.

Somehow in the craziness of kissing, I’m pressed against the wall, and he’s raised my hands above my head, his mouth moving down my neck, sucking hard, then pressing small kisses there. He says my name. God, I really like when he says my name like he wants to eat me up. My skirt has hitched up, and he’s ever so slightly grinding his hips against— A man’s voice, Patrick’s, booms through the speaker, and we break apart as Patrick begins his sermon.

We are going to hell.

Jack’s chest rises. “Elena, this is so good between us—”

Before he can finish, he grimaces and stumbles back and sits on the couch next to a group of rocking chairs. “Dammit,” he mutters and rotates his left shoulder, his fingers digging into his skin. He’s gone white, his face drawn and tight.

Breathing hard, I bend down next to him. “What happened?”

He shakes his head, his throat bobbing as he winces. “Old injury. It flares up at the worst times.” He leans his head back, taking in big gulps of air as he presses his hand against his shoulder.

“What can I do?”

He stares up at the ceiling, still too pale for my taste. “Nothing. I need some heating pads, meds, and a deep massage.” He closes his eyes. “Just give me a minute.”

I try to help him get comfortable on the smallish couch, but it’s no use with his huge frame; he’s actually bigger than the couch.

“Can you take Aleve?” I’m digging around in my purse and pull a bottle out.

“Yeah.” He takes three pills from my hand and throws them in his mouth and swallows.

“Let me get you some water from the kitchen.” I stand, and he takes my hand and pulls me down until I’m back with my knees on the floor.

“No, don’t go.”

He grips my hand as another spasm hits him.

“Jack, please, you’re worrying me. Should I phone the town doctor? He’s no fancy athletic doctor, but he does house calls, and I’m sure he’ll come here. Mama knows his family—”

“No, thank you; that’s kind.” He slowly eases himself to sitting, his breath labored.

“Is this a football injury?”

His eyes find mine. “Not originally.”

Odd answer. “Then what is it?”

He doesn’t answer but heaves himself up more, straightening his back and slowly moving to stand. I move with him, supporting him. I’m small, and I’m sure I’m not much help, but I try.

He flicks hazy eyes at me. “I need to get back to Nashville. I have a whole routine I go through when this hits, and I can’t do it here. Would you . . . could you . . . drive me?” He flushes.

“Whatever you need.”

“I hate to ask you.”

“I can tell.”

He nods. “I’ll get a town car to bring you back.”

“Of course.”

I’d agree to anything right now to get that grimace off his face.

Moving slowly, he walks to the door, me beside him. My panties are lying on the floor where I dropped them, and I bend down and stuff them in my purse.

He huffs out a laugh. “You’re either going to be pissed or amused when I tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“I had those in my pocket last night.”

“You are a sicko, Jack Hawke. You had those the entire time and never offered them to me? I may never forgive you.” I smile.

“Carried them around all night, like a little secret I had all to myself. Then you walked up to me, and I thought I was going to pass out in shock.” He leans against the wall next to the door, pausing for a moment to rub his shoulder.

I shake my head. “Why didn’t you just give them back?”

He sighs. “Thought about it. Probably should have. Wanted to see you again.”

“Jack.” I shake my head, bemused by his interest. “What am I going to do with you?”

“First thing is get me out of this church without anyone seeing I’m in pain. Think you can do that?” He gives me a searching look. “If just a hint of an injury gets out . . .”

Right. His career. He’s overly paranoid about everything. “You’re speaking to the unofficial and unwanted leader of the Daisy Lady Gang, so yeah, I’m slick. I know this church like the back of my hand. Hand me your keys, and I’ll pull around to the back. All you have to do is leave this room, go right all the way down the hallway, and there’s a side exit before you reach the kitchen. Got that?”

He nods. “Smart. My keys are in my pocket. Do you . . . can you get them for me?”

I nod and pat his right pocket, sticking my hand inside as he leans his head back against the wall.

“Elena . . . ,” he moans when I grab the metal keys, brushing my fingers around something hard.

“How on earth are you excited and in pain?” I’m whispering, and I don’t even know why except that I’m close to him, and he’s so beautiful and . . .

He huffs out a laugh. “It’s been a while for me. And it’s you, I guess.”

Well.

I let out a shaky breath and hold his keys up. “What are you driving?”

“Black Porsche. When you come out, it’s to the left, next to a big Lincoln.” He sends me a look. “Can you drive a stick? This car is kind of my baby, and the thought of you grinding gears—”

“My nana taught me to drive a tractor when I was ten. I can handle your fancy little car. The issue might be getting you in it.”

“I’ll take care of that. Meet you outside in three minutes?”

I give him a nod and open the door.

He grabs my hand before I can exit. “Elena . . .”

I look up at him. “Yeah?”

He licks his lips, a look on his face I can’t decipher. “Thank you.”

I smile. “For what? I’m helping you get out of here and back home. I’d do that for anyone.”

He flashes a half grin, half grimace. “Yeah, I think you would. What I meant is thank you for . . .”

“What?” I’m whispering. Again.

“For being you. For forgiving me for lying. You have more capacity for kindness than most.”

I shake my head at him. “You just haven’t met the right people, Jack.”

“Maybe.” He closes his eyes as another flicker of pain crosses his face.

“Okay, I’m going to get your car.”

He nods.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

I glance down at our intertwined hands. “You have to let me go.”

He flushes and drops my hand. “Sorry. See you in three.”