This wasn’t dating. And what Bash gave her wasn’t a decent kiss at all. It was hot and wicked. It was fireworks. The kind of kiss a woman could feel all the way down to her toes, and in every follicle of her hair. In every cell, and in all the good female parts of her as well.
Bash knew how to kiss. It went beyond every fantasy she’d ever had. It was firecracker-worthy, and she couldn’t help but clutch his shirt and lean in for more. And when his tongue slid inside her mouth to deepen the kiss, she could feel herself falling deeper and deeper into the web of desire he weaved around her. Every part of her felt oh so good, oh so needy, and she wanted to rub against him and beg him to touch her.
It would be so, so easy to fall into bed with him, to let him tease her and taste her and touch her and see where this led.
Unfortunately, she still retained some of her common sense. She knew exactly where it would lead with someone like Bash.
Nowhere.
That’s when the warning bells started to clang.
Not the right man for you, Chelsea.
She smoothed her hands flat on his chest, and with deep, deep regret, she pulled away.
He still sat on the arm of the sofa, giving her that smoldering look of intense desire. It had taken everything in her to stop that kiss, and if she really wanted to, she could fling herself against him, topple them both over, cover his body with her own.
She could already envision the tangle of arms and legs, the way their bodies would entwine on the sofa. And as she shifted her gaze from the sofa onto Bash, she was crushed under the heated weight of the look he gave her.
This is not helping, Chelsea. Snap out of it.
She blinked, drew in a deep breath, and grabbed her purse from the floor. “I should go.”
He still hadn’t moved from his perch on the sofa. He inhaled on a deep breath, then nodded.
“If you say so. But you know, I could help you with your list.”
She stilled. “What?”
“Your list.” He motioned with his head toward her purse, where she kept her notebook. “You’re looking for that perfect guy, right?”
“Well, yes.”
“I can help you find him. I know a lot of guys.”
He’d just kissed the living hell out of her. And now he wanted to find her the love of her life?
She did not understand men. At all.
“I don’t think you’ll find me the perfect man at your bar, Bash.”
“I didn’t say they were all at the bar.”
Now she was curious. “Really. You know guys who wear suits.”
He nodded, then pushed off the sofa. “And who work nine-to-five jobs. Though I think your whole idea of making a list is a little stupid.”
She blinked, the wash of his words more than a little chilling, effectively banishing the heat from their kiss. “Really.”
“Yeah. Which is why I’m going to help you.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
He laid his hands on her upper arms. “I don’t fit your list parameters at all, but you can’t deny that kiss we just shared was smokin’ hot.”
She would very much like to deny it at the moment, especially since she felt the heat of his hands through her long-sleeved shirt. “That’s just chemistry, and chemistry can burn out in a matter of weeks.”
His lips tilted upward. “Wanna give it a try and see how fast we burn out, Chelse?”
It might be an interesting experiment. And she’d definitely enjoy some awesome sex with Bash, no doubt. But he wasn’t relationship material, and she was bound and determined to have a bona fide relationship with the “right” guy—not the wrong one.
But he’d so easily made the transition from hot kiss to finding her another guy. A man who was interested in her would never do that. If he could turn it off that easily, so could she, right? “No, thanks. But you’re right about one thing—the kiss was amazing.”
“Glad I wasn’t the only one who thought so.” He dropped his hands, and she immediately felt the chill. “So what do you think? How about I go through your list and play matchmaker for you?”
“I’ll have to give that some thought.”
“You do that.” He opened the front door. “In the meantime, I’ll be on the lookout for that perfect guy for you.”
She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her, or serious about this. “See you later, Bash.”
“Bye, Chelsea.”
As she walked out to her car, she pondered a lot of things, not the least of which was that kiss. And as hard as she tried to shove it out of her mind, her lips still tingled.
Bash was trouble, and she wasn’t sure she could actually trust him to find the right man for her. If she couldn’t find the right guy, what made him so sure he could?
She was still convinced she was on the right track with the list.
The right man was out there—she just had to find him.
Bash spent the day cleaning his house and playing with Lou, getting her accustomed to her new surroundings.
He also spent a lot more time than necessary replaying that kiss he’d had with Chelsea.
What had he been thinking, pulling her into his arms and laying a hot one on her? She was dangerous territory, and he knew better than to wade into waters like that.
But she’d been there, and tempting him, and for some reason he hadn’t been able to resist. Maybe it was reading her list and seeing nearly every damn thing represented on it—not be him. It had hit a nerve inside him.