“No worries, I’m sure I’ll be back to my annoying self next time,” he said softly.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. What the fuck did I say to that? What could I say? I had nothing.
He bumped my shoulder. “No witty repartee?”
Repartee. I didn’t know what that meant, but from the context, it had to be something with a joke, considering the association with it being witty. “It ain’t much fun kickin’ a man when he’s already down.”
“Oh, so that was the secret to getting you to be nice to me? All I had to do was stop being so upbeat?”
“I coulda told you that from day one,” I snapped.
“Then why didn’t you?”
I felt like one of those cartoon characters with steam coming out of their ears. “I did! I repeatedly expressed my annoyance with your…your…your fake happiness.”
“It’s not fake.” His tone had taken a sharp edge. “You may not appreciate it, but it’s not fake.”
“Well, it is to me. I have nothing to be happy about, okay?”
“That sucks for you, Grumpy, but that doesn’t mean it’s true for everyone else.”
“You’re not angry about your leg?”
He inhaled sharply. “Of course I am! Some dipshit didn’t pay attention, and it cost me my leg, my bike, my ability to surf, and a hell of a lot more. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna spend the rest of my life mourning what was rather than moving on. It’s a shitty hand we were dealt, but we’ll need to learn to live with it.”
“I don’t know how!” I closed my eyes for a moment, balling my fists in an attempt to get my temper under control. It took me a few seconds before I trusted myself again. “I don’t know how to move on. Don’t I deserve time to process and figure out what comes next?”
His eyes had grown soft, and I hated that maybe even more than his annoying optimism. “Of course you do, Creek.”
Creek. Had he ever called me by my name before? I didn’t think so. Either way, it felt like a moment to me, like something that mattered.
“But that doesn’t mean everyone else has to adapt to your pace.”
Aaaaand, of course, he had to go and ruin the moment. “I never said that.”
“Oh, but you did. You don’t want me to be happy and upbeat because you’re not. So I have to wait to express my joy until you’re ready for it?”
“Yes! No. I mean…” Fuck, he drove me crazy. “Stop usin’ my words against me.”
“Then stop contradicting yourself.”
“I wasn’t. All I meant to say was that…” I buried my head in my hands. Jesus, I had no clue what I was trying to say. None. My whole head was empty. This man had an effect on me like no one else.
“I’m growing roots over here, waiting for you to get your shit together…”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. That was it.
I looked at him, wrapped my hand around his neck, and yanked him onto my lap. He squealed, but I caught the sound with my lips as I kissed him with every ounce of frustration inside me. He was rigid for a second, then moaned into my mouth, and god, that sound… It shot straight to my balls, to my cock, which grew hard in seconds. My tongue slipped into his mouth, and he met me there, and we tangled and danced.
Until he abruptly broke off the kiss and shoved me back so hard I could barely catch myself and prevent falling flat on my back.
“What the fuck was that?” he snapped.
I swallowed. What had happened? “If I have to explain that to you?—”
“Don’t get fucking cute with me. Why did you kiss me?”
That was the one-million-dollar question, wasn’t it? I didn’t even know where to begin answering it. “I don’t know.”
