Page 50 of Juniper Hill (The Edens 2)

His hands fisted on his hips. “Is that what you think? That I cook for you because you can’t cook for yourself?”

“Well . . . yes.”

He scoffed, turning his head to the ceiling. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he muttered something. Then he faced me again, taking a long step forward to crowd my space. “I cook for you because it’s how I show someone I care. I cook for you because I love the look on your face after that first bite. I cook for you because I’d rather cook for you than anyone else.”

“What?” My jaw dropped.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with you, woman.”

My mouth was still open.

Which suited Knox just fine.

Because he raised his hands, framed my face. Then sealed his lips over mine.

CHAPTER TEN

KNOX

I was a man who remembered few kisses. Maybe that was a guy thing. But I could only recall with clarity three.

My first. It was the summer before my freshman year in high school with a girl—what was her name?—at the summer fair. Then there was the time I’d kissed one of Lyla’s friends when she’d been over for a sleepover. Memorable not because of the actual kiss, but because Dad had busted us making out in the closet and the next day he’d made me stack hay bales for eight hours.

And then Gianna. I remembered the kiss I’d given her before leaving San Francisco.

The last kiss.

Beyond those, they all blended together. The women too. In the years since I’d moved home to Quincy, I kept sex casual. I hooked up with tourists—uncomplicated nights, because come morning, they’d be gone from Quincy, easily forgotten.

In years, not one had made a mark.

Until Memphis.

I rubbed a hand over my lips, still feeling her mouth from last night. Her sweet taste, mixed with salty tears, lingered on my tongue.

“Goddamn it.” What the fuck had I been thinking? This was Memphis. There hadn’t been an uncomplicated minute spent with her. But damn it, when she’d answered the door last night, tear-stained and chin raised and undeniably beautiful, I’d shut off the rational part of my brain and said fuck it.

Her mouth had been heaven. Warm and wet. Her lips a fucking dream. Soft, yet firm. At first, she’d been hesitant, shocked probably, but then she’d melted into me and proved that she knew how to use her tongue.

Thinking of that wicked mouth had kept me up most of the night.

Temptation had almost bested me. But instead of pushing inside and carrying her to bed, I’d pulled away and retreated to my house, where a cold shower hadn’t done much to cool the desire in my veins.

I craved her, more than I’d craved anyone in a long, long time. And that scared the hell out of me.

If this ended badly, she’d move out and go where? The rental by the bar? Or worse, another town? I didn’t want to be the guy who sent her running from Montana and back to that fucking family of hers in New York.

Yesterday’s snow had covered the ground. The driveway was a pristine sheet of white except for the twin tracks that led from the garage and down the road. Memphis had already left to drop Drake at daycare and head to the hotel. By rights, I should be gone by now too. There was plenty of work to do.

But I stood at the glass in my bedroom and stared at my loft.

No, not mine. It was hers. That loft would always belong to Memphis, even after she left.

There were things to say. Memphis and I had a long conversation in our future, mostly about how she thought she was a charity case. I’d be clearing up that bullshit soon. We needed to talk about the kiss. What she wanted. What I wanted.

What the hell did I want?

Her. But it wasn’t quite that simple. Not with Drake.