She gives a short, incredulous laugh that’s somehow worse than if she’d shouted, then sweeps the rolls of tape into her arms like she’s gathering ammunition. Without looking at me, she sidesteps past and heads for the row of cupboards on the next wall.
“Well,” she says in a voice far too calm to be natural, “you told me, ‘This can’t happen,’ and then ran out of the room like it was on fire.” She yanks open the upper cupboard door with more force than necessary.
“I said, ‘Not like this.’”
“And then you ran.”
“With my knee?” My attempt at humour sneaks in, desperate to soften the moment. “You’re a great physio, Elliot, but you’re not a miracle worker.”
The line falls flat. She doesn’t even flinch in acknowledgement. Instead, she hikes one knee onto the counter like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demand.
“Planting a vegetable garden,” she deadpans, already hauling herself up by the cabinets. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Come down from there.”
Her braid slips forward over her shoulder as she stands, one hand gripping the shelving for balance. She looks far too pleased with herself. “We’re not all skyscrapers, Coach. Some of us need a little help reaching the top shelf. And this tape isn’t going to put itself away.”
I move closer, pulse ticking in my jaw. “I’m serious, Elliot. I don’t want you to fall.”
“I’m not going to fall.”
She’s standing on a narrow strip of countertop in soft-soled shoes, stubborn as hell, her braid swinging as she shifts another stack of tape into place. My hands itch to steady her, but I’m scared she’d bristle at the touch.
“Come down,” I order.
“Careful.” She doesn’t even look at me, voice dripping with mock warning. “Don’t let HR hear you. Pretty sure you’re interfering with my job performanceandwork environment.”
“Elliot.” The warning in my voice is unmistakable.
She tips her head down, mimics me with perfect mock-gravity. “Arthur.”
I grit my teeth, torn between throttling her and kissing her senseless, preferably after she’s back on solid ground.
I chew the inside of my cheek as she stretches to stack thelast roll of tape on the top shelf. Every second she stays up there grates on my nerves. The thought of her being unsafe pisses me off, but the thought of her actually falling terrifies me in a way I don’t care to unpack.
Finally, she turns her head, a smug little glint in her eye. “There. All finished and no harm?—”
It happens too fast to stop. Her right shoe catches on her left, and suddenly she’s twisting, losing balance. My pulse slams into overdrive.
Two strides and I’ve got her, my hands gripping her waist before gravity can take her to the unforgiving tile floor. The collision of her body against mine nearly drives the air from my lungs. Her arms loop around my neck instinctively, clutching, anchoring herself to me.
Momentum carries us until her back bumps the cupboard. In the next breath, she’s sitting on the counter she was standing on seconds ago, my body wedged between her thighs, holding her there.
We’re both breathing hard, the sound loud in the hush of the treatment room. My chest rises and falls against hers. Her pupils widen and her gaze flicks unmistakably to my mouth.
My restraint snaps like a brittle twig and I crush my mouth to hers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ELLIOT
I have only ever kissedthree men in my life. And if I’m being honest, two of them barely count. They were high school boys, awkward and overeager, all clumsy lips and too much tongue. Which really just leaves Shawn.
Shawn kissed me a lot, especially in the beginning. I liked it then. I had craved it. Until he started chain-smoking like it was an Olympic sport. Until his kisses tasted like ash and resentment. Until his mouth became the source of insults instead of affection. By then, I could not stand the thought of it on me.
So yes, my experience is limited, but I thought I knew what kissing was.
