I shouldn’t have let him put it on me.
Not just ‘cause it’s selfish as all hell to let him freeze his ass off so I can be warm, but because I can’t shake the feeling that it’s not just the comforting weight of his coat or the sexy scent of him that’s warming me. Like maybe it’s every last thing about this guy, even down to the little half glances he throws me as we walk down the sidewalk, side by side, elbows bumping, that’s part of this weird, cozy-fuzzy feeling that’s taken up residence in my chest. That, no matter how hard I try, I can’t convince myself to believe that he put his coat on me for any reason except that he didn’t want me to be cold.
And fuck if I know what to do with that.
A little flirting and superficial conversation and a lot of watching the blizzard of snow whiting out the city streets is all it takes to get me through the long walk back to our apartments. Or rather, my apartment.
Maybe he’s hoping for an invite in, or maybe it’s just a thing he feels like he has to do, but of course Jesse walks me to my door like the perfect gentleman.
Not that you’ll hear me complaining.
I’ve managed to shut off the bullshit and talk myself back into my original plan. Otherwise, what was tonight about? I’m supposed to be getting this guy out from under my skin, not further worked in. So far, that’s all I’ve managed to do.
A good fuck, or better yet, a bad one, is exactly what I need to get him and those dangerous warm-fuzzies out of my system.
That’s always worked in the past, with only one disastrous exception, and since that exception hangs heavy over everychoice I make and I’m sure as shit not gonna let it happen again, why should tonight be any different?
The snow hasn’t stopped falling, and it’s transformed everything into some sort of magical other world, all white and smooth and sparkling. Even the sketchy-ass stairs up to the landing, where we’re standing now, me with my back to my door, him doing that cute as hell shuffley-awkward thing he does when he comes into the shop and tries to chat me up, only can’t think of a thing to say.
Well now, isn’t it a good thing for him thatIdon’t have that problem?
“Thanks for making sure I was warm tonight, sunshine,” I step forward, not close enough for any part of us to touch, just near enough that the tilt of my chin as I peer up at him through my lashes is an invitation. “But I think it’s time to getyouwarmed up now.”
I can’t hold back a shit eating grin at the punched-out gasp of shuddery breath he lets go as his face flares scarlet. The cold air had already turned his cheeks that color I love, but this is different now, a prickly hot sunset pink blush that spreads over his face and down his neck.
Goddamn, but I want to trace its path under his scarf and down to see how far south it goes. I want to press up on my toes and wrap my arms around his neck and lick a hot, wet stripe up his throat before diving in to taste those soft, full lips of his. I want to drag him through the door and rip that sweater off of him and make him forget his own name.
Fuck, but I’d do it in a heartbeat…If that was all I wanted.
It’s time for my brain to shut up now, except it doesn’t seem to have gotten the hint, and then I’m backing away, my hands fumbley-racing to get me out of his coat, drowning in a streamof intrusive thoughts blaring loud through my head—
I want to sit and listen to him talk. Not like I’m an idiot because I dropped out of high school sophomore year and never looked back, but like he did tonight. I want to find out if his socks really don’t match, like I’ve convinced myself they don’t, and why there’s something sad behind his eyes, even when he laughs. I want to let him fuck me and use me any way he wants, but then I want him to wrap his warm, thick arms around me and hold me while I sleep until I wake up, still there.
I want—
And then it hits me like a ton of bricks.I want him to be everything he seems, and I want to be the sort of guy that deserves that.
Suddenly, I don’t know a goddamn thing except that I have to get away. Get out of the too-tempting reach of him and get into my own head so I can work out what the fuck I’m gonna do.
Because I can’t actually want a single goddamn one of those things.
Fuck no.
“Thanks for letting me wear it,” I blurt as I yank myself free of his coat in record time, thrusting it into the space between us at the same moment as he takes a hopeful little half step toward me.
He probably looks, and, hell, probablyfeels, confused as fuck. Only, I can’t bring myself to look up into his face to actually find out before I turn away toward the door to dig in my pocket for my keys, silently cursing when my half numb fingers can’t quite grip the metal the right way to get the lock open.
“And thanks for dinner,” I babble as I jiggle the key into place, “and the walk,” the latch turns under my efforts and Ionly just keep myself from halfway falling forward as the door pops open, “and—”
Before he has a chance to even answer, and before I have a chance to think through what I’m doing, I’m spinning around, as good as lunging for him as I tip up onto my toes to press a kiss on his cheek. The unplanned movement almost finishes what the door started, and I have to throw out my hands to catch myself against his chest to keep from toppling into him.
Apparently of their own free will, my fingers close around the edges of his scarf, and dammit but his lips are so near and so damn tempting as I tighten my grip on the soft material for just a second before I lightly shove against him, launching myself into a stumbling step back.
“Just, thanks. Really.”
And then I’m through the door, slamming it shut behind me and flipping closed the lock like I’m afraid he’ll try to burst in after me and make me explain what just happened and why I just freaked the fuck out, apparently totally out of nowhere.
After a few seconds that seem to stretch on forever, I can hear Jesse clomping down the stairs outside. The sigh I let out isnothingbesides relief as the heavy footsteps fade.
