“You’re smiling.” She fiddled self-consciously with her hair, pushing back the gentle curls as they walked toward the main road.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said. “Let me know if you feel unsteady or if you need to stop for another hug, since I am a master hugger.”
“It was good,” she said stiffly. “Not great. Don’t get too cocky. I was, in fact, assessing your hug potential for future matches.”
He barely managed to choke back his laughter. It was getting hard to remember this was the same woman who had stolen his paintball victory and shot him in the ass—the woman who had turned his life upside down in two short weeks. “Like a test drive?”
She shrugged and looked away, but not before he saw the faintest quiver of her lips.
“What else do you assess during these test drives?” He felt electric, every nerve in his body firing at once, this attraction raw and unexpected. “Tires?”
As one, they slowed a few feet before the sidewalk, stopping in the shadows as if neither of them wanted to step into the glare of the lights.
She turned to face him, her gaze dipping to his shoes. “They do seem to be in good working order.”
“Suspension?” He took a step closer and heard her breath catch in her throat.
“A little bit stiff.” She licked her lips. “I think we’re in for a rough ride.”
“Acceleration?” Jay shoved the warning voice out of his head and cupped her jaw, brushing his thumb over her soft cheek. Her gaze grew heavy and she sighed. Or was it a whimper? He could barely hear over the rush of blood through his ears.
“A little too fast,” she whispered, leaning in. She pressed one palm against his chest, and in that moment he knew she wanted him, too. “Maybe I should test the handling.”
Dropping his head, he brushed soft kisses along her jaw, feathering a path to the bow of her mouth as he slid one hand under her soft hair to cup her nape. He felt like he’d just trapped a butterfly. If he didn’t hold on tight, she might fly away. “Or the navigation.”
She moaned, the soft sound making him tense inside. His free hand slid over her curves to her hip and she ground up against him, a deliciously painful pressure on his already-hard shaft.
“Navigation it is.” He breathed in the scent of her. Wildflowers. A thunderstorm. The rolling sea.
She turned her head before he reached her mouth. “I’m supposed to be finding your perfect match.”
“Indra wasn’t my type.” He groaned when she pressed cool lips to the heated skin of his neck, teetering on the edge.
“Who is your—”
“Zara?” Parvati’s voice echoed down the street. “I’ve got the ice.”
With a gasp, she stiffened. His mouth left her skin before she stepped away.
Her soft, wet lips and the heat in her dark eyes stoked his hunger. He drew in a slow breath and tried to center himself. Of course she was right to stop this. They were totally wrong for each other. His perfect match was someone like him. Someone who didn’t dance in restaurants or run into doors. Someone who wouldn’t threaten his self-control with one simple touch.
“We’re here,” she called out.
“Are you okay?” Parvati joined them a few moments later, eyes narrowing on Jay’s jacket, hanging on Zara’s shoulders. “It took me forever to find a bag for the ice. Let me take a look.”
“I’m good. Really.”
Parvati squinted in the dim light. “Your pupils are dilated. That’s not a good sign.”
Zara coughed, choked, shot a panicked glance in Jay’s direction. “It’s just the light, Parv. I’m fine.” She shrugged off the jacket and handed it to Jay without meeting his gaze. “Thanks. I’ve warmed up now. Nothing like an exhibition of vulva fruit to freeze the blood in a person’s veins.”
Jay folded the jacket neatly over his arm. “Anytime.”
“I’d better get in there and congratulate my dad.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes and he had a sudden fear he’d broken something between them.
“Indra is proclaiming it a huge success.” Parvati turned Zara’s head from side to side, inspecting her face.
“I hope he doesn’t move on to breasts as bread loaves next.” Zara gave a hollow laugh. “I don’t think I could take dual pumpernickel with almonds on top.”
Parvati snorted as they walked away. “He could do desserts. Plum pudding would work nicely. Or gulab jamun.”