What the hell does he think of me by now? First, I come over here and essentially proposition him, and now here I am, getting all choked up and emotional, when all I needed to do was play the first fuck up off as a joke and get on with getting over this totally out of control shit show.
Well, at least I can call it like it is.
“I’m being a total weirdo, aren’t I?” The laugh I let out may or may not sound a little deranged, but thank god Jesse joins me, a real, bright, beaming smile breaking across his sweet, still flaming red face.
“Like I’d know. You did hear me at the restaurant tonight, right? Who the hell talks about medieval execution methods on a first date?”
And just like that, we’re both laughing, maybe harder than the situation calls for, hard enough that when the two of us finally stop, I have to reach up and wipe my eyes. It’s not enough though, because the damn things just won’t stop tearing up. The absolutelastfucking thing I need.
In a flimsy-ass attempt at self-preservation, I make to turn away from Jesse’s blue-grey stare that feels like it’s lasering right through me and into the mixed-up places deep inside thatIdon’t want to look at, let alone let him see, but as soon as I move, he moves too. One big, warm, gentle hand catches me by the shoulder while the fingers of the other sweep over my cheeks. One after the other.
Honest to god wiping away my tears, like it’s just some normal thing to do and not legitimately the sweetest wayanyone’s ever touched me before.
Is this guy for real?
“Are you alright?”
There isn’t an ounce of accusation in his voice, but I can’t help the way I flinch under his touch, exactly the same as if there had been.
“Yeah, totally fine.”
I paste on a grin, about to shake his hand off me, but there’s this line on his forehead, right between his eyebrows, that my eyes suddenly catch on. That line’s always there, but now, as he stares at me, so close that I could count his golden-brown eyelashes, it pulls deeper.
Why, I have no fucking clue, but that totally does me in, and instead of pulling away from his touch, suddenly I’m leaning into it, shaking my head.
“No,” I swallow hard, hating the stinging ache in my throat almost as much as I hate the fact that he’s seeing me for the screwed-up wreck that I am. All messed up and broken and good for nothing. “Not really.”
His fingers glide down from my cheek to cup the angle of my jaw. That damn crease on his forehead is deeper than ever, and his mouth twists in this sympathetic sort of smile that makes me want to run as far away from him as possible, exactly at the same time as it makes me want to wrap myself up in him, and, for just one goddamn moment, feel safe even if it’s nothing but a pretty illusion.
“Can I?” he whispers, and Iknowhe’s asking if he can kiss me.
Hell yes,my thoughts scream, but that damn stinging in my throat is worse than ever, and all I can do is nod and hope that this time, he believes that I actually want it.
Honestly, kissing isn’t even really my thing. Still, that he’dask me like that first is just too sweet for words. Maybe that’s why, when he moves in toward me, I can’t help just kinda melting into him. And nope, totallynotresponsible for the choked little hum of sound I let out as his arms close around my body, ‘cause of course they have to go and be every bit as warm and gentle and softly firm as I’d known they’d be.
He doesn’t kiss me though. Not like I thought he would.
Instead he just pulls me in close against the pilley-soft front of his faded black tee, reaching up to run his fingers through my hair as I rest my cheek against his shoulder. I can feel his breath, warm and slightly trembling, as it skims over my forehead, and then he leans in to press a long kiss to my temple.
It’sonlybecause he’s so goddamn nice to hug and his lips are so goddam soft that this feels so…right. It can’t be anything other than that, otherwise I am well and truly fucked, ‘cause I don’t think anything has ever felt as totally perfect as this.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He doesn’t move his lips from my skin, and he doesn’t slow the smoothing of his fingers through my hair as he asks, and I don’t lift my head as I shake it against his shoulder. Right now, I don’t want a damn thing to change, and if I tell him anything, that’s exactly what’ll happen. What I’ll say if he pushes—
“If you change your mind, I’m here.”
And just like that, at the moment Ishouldbe getting a hit of relief that he’s not trying to get an answer out of me, my contrary AF brain is suddenlydesperateto unload all the bottled-up shit that would be sure to send him running the instant he heard it.
Instead, I shove it all back down and summon up my sultriest whisper as I turn my head to drag my lips over thepulse point at the base of his throat, all warm and slightly rough with the faintest burn of stubble. “I’ll keep that in mind, sunshine.”
Fuuckbut I like the feel of him on my lips. And the way his breath hitches and his hand flexes at the small of my back? Totally takes the edge off those toxic thoughts I’ve spent the whole damn evening wishing I could escape.
Is it healthy that I’m guilty of using sex as a deflection strategy? Probably not. But at least I’m not too proud to admit it to myself. That’s gotta count for something, right?
“But right now…” I close my lips around his skin and suck, just a teensy bit, and he gives me an oh-so-gratifying, full-body shudder.
Only— “Right now it’s late,” he whispers back, his voice low and growly and sexy enough toalmostcancel out thehighlydisappointing fact that now he’s untangling me from where I’d snaked my arms round his neck. Next moment, he’s free of me, stepping back from the way I was about to shift my hips up to grind against the outline of his cock I could feel going hard against my stomach.
