I grab her hips and lean in again. Because if she liked that, then—
“Wait.”
I freeze with my mouth inches from hers. The way our bodies fit together, it takes the strength of a crowbar to keep us apart. I give a little growl, debating whether I need to walk away for this conversation or not. “You’re killing me, woman.”
She grips my wrists to hold me still. “Are you frustrated? Is that why your kisses are angry?”
That stops me. I hadn’t thought of myself as angry. Though maybe I was angry at my ex. Angry at the fear Gemma and I could end up the same way. “I was going for passionate.”
“They were definitely passionate kisses.” Her fingers slide from my wrists to pull my hands between us. She laces our fingers together and gazes up at me, and though she’s literally had me in a choke hold before, this is the position that makes me feel vulnerable. “But they didn’t seem happy.”
Happy? Wasn’t happiness for schoolgirls who linked arms and skipped through meadows? I’m pretty sure those schoolgirls don’t kiss like Gemma. “What’s a happy kiss?”
Her slow smile takes my breath away. Happy looks good on her. “I’m going to show you a happy kiss,” she says. “But first, I need to tell you something.”
She’s only inches away, and our noses dance around each other’s as if finding the perfect position for when we get to mold our lips back together. “Tell me.” There’s nothing more important in the world than whatever it is Gemma is going to say before kissing me again.
Her eyes implore mine, revving this engine in my chest. She’d better hurry.
“My sister said anger comes from fear, pain, or frustration.”
Her sister, again? Anger, again?
Though in a way, what she’s saying makes sense. I roll the words around in my mind.Fear. Pain. Frustration.They are the opposite of what I want between us. No wonder she refused to angry kiss.
“So, in case the anger in your kisses comes from anything other than frustration, in case it comes from pain or fear, I just wanted to tell you I’m not going to hurt you.”
In this moment, I believe her. And I’m stunned. Even more so than when our lips met.
She lifts higher to nuzzle her nose against mine, and her warmth stings like a hot spring after a run through the snow. I suspect it’s just as healing.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
GEMMA
Romance is at the heart of our lives. The truly blessed among us find a hero or heroine of our own to love, then root for our children to do the same.
—M. A. JEWELL
Karson’s blue eyes still hold a little bit of thunderstorm, but the intensity of his touch has died down from hurricane-force wind to gentle breeze. His fingertips lap at my back and his breathing presses his chest close to mine in long, slow waves. He looks me over as if checking for damage.
“Stay for dinner,” he says.
“Okay.” My arms circle his neck like a life preserver, and I smile up at him, relaxed as if I’m floating along a lazy river. I’ve worked hard for this vacation, and I don’t want it to end.
“Oh.” He scrunches his face as though he’s in pain. “It’s pizza night.”
“Oh.” I scrunch my face too. The last time I ate pizza, it didn’t stay down very long. As much as I love the taste, I don’t want to make that mistake again. Especially in front of my new beau. “I can’t have pizza.”
His eyebrows dip. “Why can’t you have pizza?”
There’s a lot about me he doesn’t know yet. I hope it takes forever to share it all, though I’m not thinking about the ending so much as our beginning. Karson kissed me. That’s mind-blowing in itself. “I’m allergic to gluten and dairy.”
“Bummer.” He sighs. “But when I said it’s pizza night, I was talking about how it’s the night of the week where Granddad cooks pizza in the brick oven he built, and my family gets together for dinner.”
“Oh …” I purse my lips, trying not to let them stay in a pout. It’s sweet and endearing that Karson is so connected to his family. “Then we’ll have dinner another night. I love to cook.”
His eyes study mine, shifting left then right, reading me like a book. “You should come.”
