She looks at me. Her eyes are wild, and she’s shaking from the adrenaline.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she tells me.
“You scared the shit out of him.” I walk toward her. “I am so proud of you for standing your ground. Most people would’ve taken the money.”
“Most people are desperate. I’m not.”
“Come here,” I say, tired of this space between us. Fucking sick of this wedge.
But she doesn’t move.
I take the rejection on the chin, knowing the next week and a half could be like this. I’m prepared for it, and I’m not giving up. I’ve been known to be a stubborn bastard at times.
“Okay,” I tell her, knocking my knuckles against the wood. “You know where I am if you need me.”
I move toward the stairs.
“Dyson,” she whispers.
I stop. I’m not used to her saying my name.
After a week of circling each other’s orbit, she walks around the counter toward me.
I meet her halfway. My hands find her cheeks, and my thumbs graze against them. I meet her eyes, and then I kiss her like tomorrow may never come. It’s not gentle. The kiss is hungry. But I’ve been starving for her for several days. I’m done pretending I can handle it. She grabs the front of my shirt with both fists and pulls me closer, making a sound that snaps the last thread of restraint I have left. Her breath catches when I pull back just enough to look at her.
“I missed you,” I say against her mouth.
“You saw me every day.”
“That’s not the same, and you know it.”
Her fists loosen on my shirt, but she doesn’t let go. “I’ve missed you too.”
She tilts her head up and kisses me again, softer this time. My mouth widens, and her tongue sliding against mine breaks me open. She’s choosing me with full knowledge of who I am and what I’ve done, and that’s worth more than anything in the world.
I take a step forward until her back is pressed against the counter. I cage her in with both arms, desperately wanting more of her. Control has vanished, and she reaches for my belt loop. I almost lose track of what we’re doing in the lobby, in broad daylight. I groan against her mouth.
“We should stop,” I say.
She kisses me breathlessly. “You’re right.”
“I have no control with you.”
Her laugh vibrates against my lips. My hand slides down her side to her hip, and she arches into me as the front door swings open.
“Fuck,” she whispers, looking past me.
I turn and see Josie.
As she pushes her sunglasses up on her head, she freezes. Her mouth drops open, and she takes in the full scene with my belt unbuckled and her sister pinned against the front desk.
“That answers my question,” Josie says. “Have a great day.”
She turns around and walks right back out, closing the door behind her.
Wendy drops her forehead against my chest and laughs so hard that her whole body shakes. It’s contagious.
“She’s going to text me seventeen paragraphs,” Wendy says into my shirt.
