Kiss him.
And once I think those two little words, they turn intrusive, piercing my mind, ping-ponging around my brain, clouding all decent judgment and knocking away any reasonable sense.
Our eyes meet, his irises blazing into mine, and instead of disconnecting, I press closer. His eyes darken in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. His hands are still hovering, but that’s fine.
“Violet.” I think it might be a warning, but he’s not pushing me away.
I brush my mouth against his before he can try.
The kiss is soft. Hesitant, even. I don’t expect his lips to respond, but they do, molding perfectly to mine. My hands shake against his chest, my heart beats a mile a minute, and I’m sure he can tell that I’ve lost my cool completely. That is, if I ever had any to begin with. His hands return to my waist then, and though their touch is as tentative as this kiss, they light me on fire.
Slowly, I break away and open my eyes, trying and failing to catch my breath. His gaze holds mine, heavy-lidded and intense, and I’m somehow even more unsure than before. Did he like it? Does he hate me? Have I made the biggest mistake of my life?
My uncertainty doesn’t last long. Instead of pushing me away like I expect him to, he leans back in, and his mouth slants over mine in a deep, open-mouthed kiss. It starts slow and exploratory. Passionate and deliberate. Our tongues dance, our breath mingles, our bodies press closer, closer, closer until the desire’s too much and the pace is too slow. My arms tangle around his neck. His fingers dig into my hips. The pressure drives me wild, and we kiss like it’s the only thing keeping us afloat. Like it’s more right than wrong. Unexpected but inevitable. Abrupt yet overdue. It’s everything I wouldn’t let myself imagine. He’severything I wouldn’t let myself envision.
He pushes off the floor of the pool and presses me against the wall, legs locked and body trembling. My hands move over his shirt, charting ridged muscle until the fabric feels like a hindrance, and my hands push underneath, gliding up his hard stomach and chest. He groans into my mouth, and heat flares in my stomach at the sound.
I can’t get close enough. I’ll never be close enough.
Because we fit perfectly together in a way I never imagined. Every touch, kiss, breath feels like my first, and I realize that I never want to do this with anyone else. Not ever. This is what I’ve been waiting for—that mind-blowing moment.
Sandwiched between his body and the wall, his hips push against mine. I feel his desire, revel in the exquisite pressure between my legs, and wish all barriers would disappear. His lips leave trails of heat across my mouth, my jaw, my neck, and when he pulls my shirt down to bare my shoulder to the cool air, I whimper as he presses kisses there as well.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, kissing back up my neck, his fingertips digging into my hips in a way that drives me wild. “So fucking perfect.”
I wind my fingers through his hair, tugging him closer, and press my mouth to his for another searing kiss—
The timer goes off on my phone.
No. No no no no no.
We break apart, both of us breathing like we’re desperate for air, and listen to the wake-up call we never asked for and didn’t want.
“Shit,” I mutter. “It’s the cupcakes.” I adjust my shirt and slowly extract myself from his arms. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move a single muscle.”
Once I’m out of the pool, I grab a towel off the table and wrap it around my body. My heart’s still racing as I enter the house and shut off the timer. Removing the cupcakes from the oven, I see with relief that the new batch has perfectly risen, and I set the tin on the stove to cool with shaky hands. My mind’s moving in a million directions, and I can’t quite process what just happened. I can’t figure out how to feel besides giddy, but I don’t want to feel anything else just now. Leave that for later, when I’m alone with my thoughts and the guilt and regret waiting in the wings take center stage.
Taking a deep breath, I hurry back outside, already shedding my towel and tossing it on the first lounge chair I see. But when I see him, I freeze. He’s not where I want him to be—waiting in the pool with a wicked smirk and heated eyes. No. Landon’s out of the pool with a towel wrapped around his neck, his back to me as he dries out his hair, and it’s all wrong. It’s all so insanelywrong.
“What are you doing?” I ask, shivering. “Let’s get back in.”
“I need to shower,” he mutters.
“Is that an invitation?” I tease, but I know something’s wrong. He won’t look at me, won’t face me, and an ache starts to build in my chest. I shift, uncertain in my own skin.
“No, Violet. I need to shower and get to bed. I have an early day.”
“Oh,” I say, taken aback by his short delivery. I take a step back, my heart sinking down to my stomach. “Okay…”
When he finally turns around, his face is flat, devoid of emotion. My fingertips start to tingle in an out-of-body sort of way, and I squeeze them into hard fists.
“Look,” he says, eyes locking on mine. The desire’s gone, and the passion’s disappeared completely. He’s shuttered, the way he was when we first met, and I hold my breath in preparation for what he’s about to say. “This was a mistake.”
This was a mistake.
Each word is a bullet lodging in my chest.
“A mistake?” I croak. “How?”
