“Regarding?”
He scratches the back of his neck nervously. “There are a few rooms for rent in town. I thought they might interest you.”
My stomach drops. “You’re kicking me out?”
“No—I wouldn’t do that?—”
“Then why are you calling about rooms?” I ask in a shrill, panicked tone.
But I already know why. I crossed a line.
“You need to focus on studying. That’s the priority. This,” he says, gesturing between us. “Is too comfortable.”
My cheeks flush with heat. “I wasn’t trying anything.” It’s the truth. I wasn’t. Because I was too chicken to make the first move.
“I can’t have you feeling like you owe me because I took you in.” He sighs. “This way, you’ll be able to focus on your studies.”
“Owe you?” My brow crinkles. “Of course, I owe you. That’s why I’m answering phones and cleaning out the extra room. So I can contribute.”
“That look you gave me…”
“Was my stupid girlish crush coming to the surface.” I slump in my seat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it weird.”
“You didn’t,” he says sharply. “I did. I invited it.”
An ember of hope sparks in my chest. “Does that mean you want it too?”
“Greer…” He exhales through his nose, as if the rest of the sentence is fighting to get out. “This—whatever this is—it’s wrong.”
“Why?”
“I was your brother’s best friend. You’re basically family.”
“I’m a grown woman, and we haven’t seen each other in close to a decade.” I snort. “Heck, you hardly even glanced at me back then, so don’t act like we were something we weren’t.”
His jaw flexes as he thinks over what I just said.
“Please don’t make me leave. I understand if you don’t feel the same way about me as I feel about you. I can handle it.”
“It’s not that I don’t feel the same way about you,” he says. “It’s that I want you too damn much.”
His confession steals the breath from my lungs.
For one suspended second, the only sound is the low hum of the clinic’s heater kicking on somewhere in the back. Then Kellan moves.
Not away. Toward me.
He slides off the edge of the desk in one fluid motion and is on me. His hands find the arms of my chair, and he leans down, caging me without quite touching. His face hovers inches from mine—close enough to see the storm churning in those dark eyes.
My hands lift, trembling as they settle against the flannel stretched tight across his chest. His heart is hammering beneath my palms—hard, fast, matching the frantic rhythm of mine.
“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice full of conflict.
“I need it!”
A low sound rumbles in his throat, and then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s demanding. Greedy. His lips are firm and warm, tasting faintly of coffee, which I never liked until now.
