Rip formed a fist, then rubbed it against his other hand. He looked pained, even as his eyes flashed with determination. “I have to talk to you,” he said. “But not here.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, then turned my eyes back to the scattered crowd. “I have nothing to say to you,” I said. “And no intention of leaving this bar. If you want to talk to someone, talk to Clark. You should be apologizing to him first, not to me.”
“I did,” Rip said. “I talked to Clark.”
I startled, then turned back to him. He sucked his teeth and nodded.
“He came to me,” Rip continued. “I wanted to hide my damn face, but he didn’t let me. And if Clark can get his shit together in the middle of all of this, I know we can, too.”
“We?” I sneered. “Because I think you’re the one acting confused.”
Rip stepped forward, and, without saying another word, he placed one hand on the back of my head, then pulled me into a kiss.
We’d kissed a million times. We’d plant a quick, greedy kiss on each other’s lips when we were meeting up at a bar or crawling out of bed in the morning. We’d kiss long, slow, and hungry sometimes, when we both had a day off and ended up in bed together. We’d kiss with our full mouths, rubbing stubble and lips and tongues together, and we’d kiss with just a brush of our lips, when we said hello or goodbye.
But no kiss compared to that one. I moaned and melted into Rip’s hands, and it was like they were the only hands I had ever known. Rip’s lips pressed against my own, and my mouth opened to him. We kept kissing and rubbing our hands on each other. We kept tasting each other and feeling each other.
We kissed like we were made for each other.
I’m here, I thought.Stay here with me.
Rip pulled his lips away, and I sucked in a breath. I was dizzy enough that I had to place my hand on the bar to recover.
“I need to make this right,” Rip said. “I need to make this right with you, and with Clark, too. With all of us.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Call Clark,” Rip answered. “We need to see him.”
