too mad at her, she got us back in a room together." He stopped directly in front of me. The only thing between us were those flowers. The faint, soft smell of the roses matched something stronger and masculine and it took all my pride to not inhale that scent and hold it in.
"The last time we were in a room together you couldn't wait to escape."
There was no edge to my words. No bite of rightful anger. There was just his body and the heat that radiated from him, roping me in.
I clenched my fists and stared at the roses. Just the roses. I wouldn't be liable for my actions, crazy as they would be, if I kept looking into his eyes.
He swept a hand through his luscious dark locks. ”Since you weren't technically ‘you’ before, I wanted to say I'm sorry for the way I left the other night. It was more than disrespectful. It was dismissive and-"
"It was bullshit," I finished for him, still eyeballing the roses, which were beautiful. But I was still mad. Furious. Pissed. Angry.
I raised my chin when he dropped the roses on the counter behind me. The truth reared its ugly head. I was lonely. Afraid. Falling.
Horny.
Against my better judgement, I put a hand on his chest. I wanted to push him away. To pound his chest in anger. Instead, I fisted his t-shirt and yanked him closer to me. I had enough anger left to not just kiss him. Never mind how sexy his lips were. Never mind how delightfully infuriating his smirk was.
"If you ever walk out on me again-"
"Never," he swore, without hesitation.
There should have been a tiny voice in my head that snorted, ‘Yeah right’. That inner voice that was used to disappointment and knew that happily ever afters only existed in fiction.
When I let go, I realized that maybe I didn’t know everything after all.
Chapter Seven: Jackson
––––––––
H er lips were too damn close to not kiss.
My head told me that I should tread lightly. Even if those intense eyes of hers were finally letting me in, daring me to kiss her, the rational part of my brain told me that it could very well blow up in my face. She hadn't accepted my apology, after all. The text that I thought was the beginning of something new hadn't even come from her. Her jaw was still pulled tighter than a bowstring. Her face, so delicately sexy that I worried if I was too presumptuous she'd shatter me into a million pieces, gave me pause.
Knowing what I knew about Sadie, she’d slap me across the face before she showed any sign of weakness.
I hedged my bets and leaned forward, flexing my arms as I gripped the counter and let my lips hover above hers. I swept my eyes from the sexy crown of her head to her mouth. It was hard to believe I'd ever found lipstick sexy. Her lips were bare and it was more than enough to make all the blood in me rush to my groin. I wanted to feel her lips on my lips, her want matching the want that blazed in me.
This was a new thing for me. Proceeding with caution. I had a feeling that if I went to her, took her in my arms, and initiated the kiss that we were literally a heartbeat away from, that she wouldn't leave me hanging. The wait, the not being completely certain, was the hardest part—and the hottest.
"What do you say, Red?" I murmured, our breath mingling and stoking the heat in her emerald eyes. "Do you forgive me?"
Her nostrils flared and she wet her lips. "I..."
My gut twisted and I braced myself for the worst and dared to hope for the best. I bet on her eyes and the fact that her nipples were piercing through her thin t-shirt, all but whispering, ‘Take me’.
She let out a groan that echoed in the back of her throat and leaned in, turning her head so her lips skated across my jaw and rested at my ear. "Just shut up and kiss me."
Finesse and gentleness be damned, I fisted her red locks and snatched her mouth to mine. She moaned into my mouth with abandon. I faded into her taste. Lost myself in the softness of her lips against mine.
I grinned on the inside as
Lex Williford, Michael Martone