You couldn’t take your safety for granted.
Maybe safety was an illusion anyway.
Something was always bound to hurt us. A punch to the chin. A glass shard in a palm.
A broken heart.
I took a step toward him.
He reached out and clasped my shoulders and then dragged me to his chest. I pressed my nose to his sternum and wrapped my arms around him.
It was dangerous.
He made me feel . . . everything.
I wanted him to sleep in bed next to me. I wanted to wake up in the morning and bring him coffee from Sweet Teeth. I wanted to feel his lips on mine and?—
My brain and body were not in sync; they were at war with one another.
“I’ll stay at The Regal Beagle tonight and move here tomorrow. Compromise, all right?”
When he didn’t reply, I pulled back and peered up at him.
He rubbed the corner of my mouth. “Barbecue sauce.”
“Don’t distract me.” I yanked out of his arms.
“Wasn’t trying to.”
I raised my brows.
“All right, I was,” he relented.
He reached for me again then his head dipped.
I shyly met his mouth as his hand slid down my body to press against the small of my back.
Our thighs brushed and desire pumped through my veins, obliterating the voice shouting from the corner of my brain, reminding me to be careful.
Careful had left the building.
We kissed for eons. We breathed the same air.
I grew dizzy and when he pulled back, I slumped against him.
“What were we fighting about?” I asked, breathless.
“We weren’t fighting,” he stated. “And I don’t remember.”
I was propped up in bed at The Regal Beagle, a glass of cheap wine in my hand.
Wyn’s face filled the screen of my phone. Her blonde hair was piled on top of her head and her mouth dropped open. “What the hell is in the water in Huckleberry Hill?”
I took a sip. “I’m inclined to think it’s the altitude, not the water.”
“Hadley got a cowboy, Salem got a bull rider, and you, my dear, have a?—”
“Nothing,” I interrupted. “I have nothing.”
