My mouth forms a hard line. I look into her eyes, the blue so much like a storm right now. The muscles in her right cheekbone twitch.
"I could make it easy for you." My voice is thick. I'm talking about the lawyer, but… am I really?
"Make what easy?" Her voice shakes.
"The lawyer. If you use mine, you won't have to find another one."
She shakes her head. "Jared—"
"Fuck that guy," I blurt out.
Her eyes widen. "I don't understand your problem with him, but—"
"I don't like the guy, Jo." I'm teetering on the edge now, knowing my next words could forever alter things between us. Here we go. "I especially don't like him for you."
Her lower lip dips in surprise, and her hands slice the air. "What do you expect me to do with that, Wyatt?"
I'm trying to tell her how I feel, but I don't know how to, and I'm afraid she'll laugh if I do. She has safe and stable Jared who will always say the right thing, do the right thing.
But there's something inside me, something that comes from the center of my heart, that tells me not to back down. Jo stares at me, arms crossed in front of her chest, her lips a stern line.
I step toward her, closing the distance so we're less than a foot apart. We were closer when we danced a few days ago, but this feels different. The air is electric, possibility crackling through it. I watch her face carefully as I lift my hand, my knuckles grazing her forearm. Her lips peel apart and her sharp intake of breath says more than words ever could.
I drag my touch up her arm, waiting for her to tell me to knock it off, but no such directive comes. She closes her eyes and swallows hard when my fingers feather over her collarbone.
This feels like a green light, so I come closer, my hand snaking up her throat and around to the nape of her neck. My fingers work into her hair, and I tug gently, tipping her head back. She drags in a thick, shaky breath. Her arms uncross and she leans her backside into the counter, her hands gripping the edge.
Jared fucking who?
A sigh slips from Jo's mouth when my lips ghost her throat. I press the tip of my tongue against her sweet skin and drag it up the length of her delicate neck.
"Jared—"
I growl, something unintelligible and animalistic. I should be respectful of their relationship, but there isn't a single part of me that wants to. All I want is Jo. It's inconceivable she could be anyone else's. "I've seen you with him, Jo. He doesn't do this to you," I murmur against her flushed skin. "I haven't even kissed you yet, and you're trembling." I press small kisses along her jaw, prolonging the anticipation. She smells like heaven, like honeysuckle and orange peel, and I can't wait any longer. "I can already tell you're going to be the best thing I've ever tasted."
As soon as I say it, I'm hit with that same sense of déjà vu. The words are familiar, but I don't remember saying them.
Jo stiffens. The electric air between us catches fire, and she pushes me away. Her eyes hold fury, but also something like shame, which only confuses me further.
"You're pathetic," she hisses. She straightens a shirt that doesn't need to be straightened, just to have something to do with her hands. I stand in front of her, exposed even though I'm fully dressed.
"Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I'd fall for this actagain?" She huffs a derisive laugh while I try to figure out what she means byagain.
She shakes her head as she watches me scramble to understand.
"What do you mean by 'again'?"
Her cheeks become flames. She crosses her arms, each hand gripping the opposite elbow. She stares at me. "We slept together on that trip we took down to Phoenix. You were too drunk to remember it, apparently." Her gaze falls to the floor.
"No way," I argue automatically. "There's no way I'd forget you, Jo." Her hair falls around her face, strands of pink peeking through. A flush sweeps over her cheeks, and she releases a deep breath.
"But you did, Wyatt." She takes a step, until she's close enough to touch me, one fingertip poking the center of my chest. "You have a small, flat scar on the inside of your upper thigh. I don't know how you got it, because we weren't doing much talking." Her eyes challenge me, daring me to dispute her claim a second time.
I have no words. Right now my brain cannot form an intelligent thought, and my mouth cannot produce a coherent sentence. The best I can do is shake my head slowly back and forth while I try to wade through this information.
Jo mistakes my headshake as me continuing to deny. She nods firmly, the tiny stud earrings she wears glinting in the sun that streams through the bathroom window. "We had sex on every flat surface in your hotel room. There isn't an inch of my body you haven't had your hands on, and… You. Don't. Remember. It." The last part of her sentence slips through clenched teeth.
I turn my hands over and stare at the pads of my fingertips, imagining them running over Jo's lush curves. The underside of her breasts. The warm path between her legs. It is a cruel, cruel punishment to not remember such a thing.
