But tonight, she kissed me like I was worth wanting. And that terrifies me more than anything.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ROSE
The hotel room door clicks shut behind me, and I lean back against it, trying to catch my breath as though I’ve just run a marathon instead of sitting silently on a bus replaying one single kiss over and over again until the memory feels imprinted on my bones.
I’m still buzzing. My skin feels too warm. My lips tingle. Every time I blink, I see Callum’s face. He’s burned onto the inside of my eyelids.
I need distraction. That’s my plan.
I kick off my boots, shed the clothes that still smell faintly of ice and adrenaline, and rummage in my suitcase. The geekiest pyjamas I own land in my hands, navy blue with tiny cartoon astronauts floating among tacos. Space Taco Cat PJs. They are ridiculous. I love them. And it’s not as if anyone is going to see me.
I laugh at myself as I pull them on, tug my hair into a messy bun, and crawl onto the bed with my laptop, intending to start downloading photos from the match. But all I manage is staring at the login screen and thinking:He kissed me like I mattered.
My phone buzzes from where I tossed it beside me. My heart leaps and dives simultaneously. I scramble for it, palms suddenly sweaty.
Cal: Are you still awake?
Oh no. Oh yes. I sit there for a full ten seconds just staring at the words, like they might bite.
Rose: …maybe.
His typing bubble appears instantly.
Cal: Can I come by?
My pulse skyrockets. I sit up so fast the duvet tries to fight me.
Rose: Room 317.
I stare at the message, horrified. Why did I sound so eager? I should have played that cool. I should have thrown in a thinking emoji. Something. Anything. It doesn’t matter now because there’s a knock on my door.
Not just a knock.Hisknock. Firm. Uncertain. Hopeful. How the hell I decipher that from a knock; I have no idea but I do. I stand and nearly trip over my own feet getting to the door. My hands are shaking as I pull it open.
He’s there. Hoodie zipped halfway as though he left his room in a rush. Eyes on me because he can’t look anywhere else.
His gaze flicks down. Stops at the tacos floating through space.
He blinks. “Your pyjamas are… amazing.”
Heat sweeps up my neck. “Thank you. The astronaut tacos are limited edition.”
He smiles, slow and wicked and kind all at once. “Of course they are.”
I step back to let him in, heart hammering so hard I swear he must hear it, and the moment the door clicks shut behind him, he’s on me.
His hand cups the back of my head, fingers threading into my hair; his other arm slides around my waist and pulls me flush against him. My back hits the door with a soft thud and then his mouth is on mine. It’s hot, hungry, desperate.
I gasp into him, and he swallows the sound like he needs it to breathe.
“Been going insane,” he murmurs against my lips. “Needed…Jesus, Rose, I needed…”
Words dissolve when he kisses me again, deeper, firmer, pushing all the air from my lungs. My fingers fist into the front of his hoodie, clinging like he’s the only solid thing in the world.
His body is heat and muscle and restrained tension, every line pressed against me. The taste of him is intoxicating. Mint and something darker, something purely him. My knees go weak, and he notices, lifting me effortlessly until my toes barely scrape the carpet.
I’m drowning. And I never want to come up for air.
